#kishore

First, Cadiana helped the First Bastion—those who weren't already defending—underground. They threw two injured people onto Warpath and fended off draconic beasts as they went, acting as a rearguard. Cady let the head priest do a headcount before pivoting on their heel, making for the exit to the surface.

Lorcan lunged to grab their arm, but instead of stopping Cady, her momentum brought Lorcan stumbling forward. His arms were strong, but his balance wasn't perfect with his re-grown foot. Cady stopped and supported him under the elbow, inviting him to speak. 

"You're alright to do this?" he asked. It wasn't a question that Cady was going back out.

Cady wanted to give it some thought for him, but they couldn't hesitate—every second mattered. Even if she wasn't okay, by whatever definition, she would have gone. "Yes.”

"Erathis protect you and guide your maul, Steelsong."

"She will." 

—

Outside, blasts of fire, ice, and lightning shaved off chunks of buildings. Poison clouded off blocks, dissolving skin and melting lungs. Civilians who hadn't escaped fast enough were cornered into their homes or drained into the streets, where they were cut down. The cult was needlessly brutal about it, removing entire limbs, heads, or dragging screaming families apart. Were they taking prisoners? What the hell for? 

Orla’s words, a reinforcement of Erathis’, resonated in them: protect the city. Protect her city. Westruun had become Cady’s home as much as Emon once was. 

Cady charged. They swung with the force of a battering ram, using their maul to slam cultists’ heads off their shoulders or into buildings and launching at them like a bear. Maybe bears didn’t scare dragons, but Cady was at her fiercest in battle—where she couldn’t instill fear, she could kill.

Cady realized why Lorcan had asked. She'd been here before—a hurricane of noise around her, steel on steel and bellowing and the drumbeat of a thousand armoured feet and shields, the snap of bowstrings and bones and crossbow bolts. Fire and spells added to the roar, so loud it made her ears want to go numb. The air was pungent with sweat and the iron bite of blood, so thick she tasted it in the back of her throat. 

For a fleeting moment Cady had wondered if they’d freeze, but they were calmer than they’d ever been, Erathis’ steady presence beating in tandem beside their heart. 

Once upon a time, Cady might have been on the opposite side, a pawn of a Betrayer God—Bane instead of Tiamat. Warren Drassig and his son were the closest she had ever gotten to one. Warren had fooled her, making her trust he was enacting Erathis’ tenets, but his son unveiled the truth. Cady had turned away just as Bane’s fingers had brushed her shoulder. 

Out on the battlefield during the Scattered War, away from the cities, Cady had believed everyone there was a soldier; that when opposing sides met, they were all at least trained in basic combat and were there voluntarily, even if that reason was a reaction. In Westruun, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

Cadiana arrived at the city’s heart in time to join with some of the Gilded Thorns: Krusk, Kishore, and Bryn. The three and some armed guards had cleaved a path through a knot of cultists trying to stave in the courtyard gates. The Thorns had successfully drawn their attention and were beginning to drive them back.

Cady reeked of sweat, smoke, and blood—some their own, but mostly the cultist’s. They thrust a fist against their chest, closing most of the wounds, and took up a wide stance beside Kishore. Kishore spared him a quick flick of the eyes, then returned her focus to battle.