Kingdom of Iron: Tyrant's Fall

The next night—or really the next morning, technically—Matt stared through the darkness ahead of him. He was on Nelson once more, this time surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, all dressed in dark clothing and with their mounts' feet muffled by spare shirts or rags, all waiting for the signal.

Many of them had been ordered to rest during the previous day, though that hadn't been all that Matt had been doing. He'd ordered the army, in banners of one or two a piece, to move close enough to the walls for brief skirmishes, no more than a volley of arrows or two, before retreating. Work on the trenches had continued between lulls in the fighting. It had kept the enemy on their toes and worn them out, forcing them to stay alert along the entire wall for the next attack.

He hadn't let up during the night, either. At various spots along the trenches, he'd ordered soldiers from the baggage train to briefly light torches and push forward until they were just within bowshot before retreating. For hours, whatever guards were on the walls had been forced to watch for an incoming raid.

Even now, there were clusters of torches opposite the western gate. Matt had made sure to shift the Hill Guards and Winterknights there, making it an obvious possible attack. The Gnomes could build a ramp for the cavalry to charge up and onto the wall, which meant that the sentries above were likely rushing to the opposite part of the walls to brace for an assault there.

Hopefully that would leave the gate just ahead of him, across roughly three hundred meters, wide open for Vel'morg and his conspirators. Otherwise, he was going to have pushed his army hard for nothing.

As he waited, the gathered troops around him shifted in their saddles or checked their equipment. Both banners of Shadow Hunters were with him, concealing their approach with illusions. Along with them were all three banners of the Hounds, as well as Lucy's Eagle Company. The hope was to take the eastern gate and have the Hounds rush forward to take a gate on the next wall before the enemy knew what was happening. With both walls breached, the army would be free to stream into Thronepeak and put an end to the siege—and hopefully, to the war in the west shortly after.

Matt leaned forward in his saddle, his eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. There were sporadic clouds in the sky, which made it even harder to see. At least there was a quiet breeze, stealing some of the summer's heat. If nothing else, at least the enemy wouldn't smell them coming.

He was still grinning at his own private joke when he saw something flutter above the eastern gate. His breath froze as he watched a torch move, catching that summer breeze once, twice, three times. It was the signal he'd arranged with the Dwarves. The time had come.

With a gentle nudge, he started Nelson moving forward. The warbuck snorted softly, but he walked across the planks the men had laid across the tops of the eastern trenches. His hooves made only soft sounds, ones that Matt desperately hoped wouldn't carry. They were soon echoed by the paws and hooves of the Wargs and greatelks behind him as the first part of his army moved forward.

The distance between the trenches and the walls seemed unending. Part of him, as always, wanted to start Nelson off at a gallop, but he knew better. Running his mount like that would only get him to the gate exhausted, in addition to making a catastrophic amount of noise. Besides, Eagle Company had remained on foot, and outrunning the troops meant to hold the gate was a recipe for disaster.

They had crossed nearly two-thirds of the distance when Matt saw the gate start to open. There was no creaking, something he'd dreaded would give away the plan entirely. Instead, there was only silence as the doors swung out of the way, revealing an opening in the wall as dark and foreboding as anything he'd ever seen.

Matt felt a burst of triumph run through him, followed closely by the need to restrain himself from charging once again. Even if it was a trap, the enemy had made a mistake setting it for him. His troops would be more than strong enough to take that opening. Whatever happened in the next few hours, the siege had just been cut dramatically shorter than it would have been.

They were close enough now that Matt could make out shouts coming from the other side of the walls, as well as the occasional muttered conversations from the guards closer to him. None of them appeared to have seen his banners drawing closer, or noticed the gate standing open. Their attention seemed to be held by the torches and noises in the trenches to the east. To their tired eyes, it must have been a relief that Matt had chosen that side to attack at the moment.

In the end, they made it nearly to within fifty meters of the gate before he heard a shout from the walls. He didn't wait for the noise to increase. Instead, he spurred Nelson into a charge and roared along with the rest of his troops as he charged for the gates, their mounts thundering through the night towards their destination.

He reached the gate mere seconds later, charging through it without stopping. Arrows were already beginning to hiss between his men and those on the walls, but he had another target in mind. As shouts and alarm bells began to ring out through the night, Matt charged ahead with the Hounds towards the second wall. Behind him, red lights burst into life as the Shadow Hunters sent the signal for the rest of the army to advance.

The glow from those signal lights lit the houses of Thronepeak's serfs in a lurid, shifting hue. Shadows raced and shifted as he charged ahead through the narrow, cobblestone streets, searching for the road that would lead him to the next gate. It seemed like the Dwarves had allowed the warren of serf housing to spring up in a deliberately confusing maze of dead ends and confusion, perhaps intending to use their own slaves as a buffer against disaster.

If they had, the serfs were not currently going along with the plan. Dwarves looked out of windows and opened doors, but the instant they saw Matt and his lifeguards, they immediately ducked back inside and hid. A group of what had to be militia appeared at one intersection, looking bewildered and holding an assortment of farm tools. They threw down their weapons and fled the moment they saw the approaching cavalry.

Even as the roar of battle rose behind him, Matt remained focused. Each twist and turn had been planned for; his efforts to map the town hadn't been limited to just the walls, after all. The attack had been planned for the time of night when the enemy would be the most off-balance, the most confused by the sudden alarm and noise. They'd be expecting the fight to be at the outer walls, and they'd be rushing there without realizing that their defenses were breached. If he could just find the gate before they corrected that assumption…

A turn at the next intersection brought him face to face with the fact that he had not moved nearly quickly enough. The gate ahead was already beginning to shut, and soldiers were streaming up on top of the wall to defend it. Another handful of moments, and the inner town would be safe from his forces.

Matt's eyes narrowed, and he urged Nelson forward. As the warbuck charged, Matt fell into another of Snolt's tricks, the Rider's Heart. His Fire Source pulsed and flowed into the spell's framework, channeling a torrent of energy along a glowing network of light that surged out of him… and directly into the beast he rode.

Snolt had described the spell's effect as a 'minor' boost. Something barely noticeable for most moments. As Matt had suspected, and a number of shattered trees outside of Mornal Castle had proved, it became something more in the hands of the Iron King.

Nelson's strides abruptly grew longer. His muscles bulged underneath his thick hide, and his muffled hoofbeats abruptly became solid and harsh. Flames began to leak from the warbuck's eyes and smoke trailed from his mouth and antlers. Matt thought he heard cobblestones crack as Nelson shook his head and bellowed, the sound echoing through the street.

Matt heard panicked shouting from the wall above the gate, but he ignored it. The doors were nearly shut, but they hadn't been barred yet. If he could convince the warbuck to hit the door just right…

His mount barely even hesitated. Trailing fire and still accelerating, Nelson crossed the remaining distance at a speed he'd never reached before. The wind whipped the trailers of smoke away as the warbuck reached the doors, just as they finally swung shut.

Matt barely had time to close his eyes before the warbuck struck the doors at a full gallop. The impact crushed the doors inwards, sending splinters of wood and shivers of iron in all directions. They held, however, and Nelson bellowed again as he backed up, the fire in his eyes growing hotter.

The warbuck charged again, lowering his head to strike the same exact spot. Again the doors resisted, though cracks ran all through them now. Matt heard more panicked shouting. Arrows began to zip downwards, smacking into the street as Balred's magic diverted their course.

Nelson paid them no heed. Bleeding from the impacts, but his eyes still focused on the barrier in front of him, he backed away for a step or two. Then he reared, once again unleashing a horrendous bellow that roared through the night. His front hooves, seeming to burn with ethereal fire, slammed into the door, putting the warbuck's full might against them.

This time, the doors gave way. One of the sides took the brunt of the assault, and it snapped in half. Nelson landed and slammed the other door aside in a resentful burst of anger; it swung back into the wall with enough force to turn it into a shattered ruin. As the top half of the remaining door swung back, the warbuck caught it in his jaws, ripped the remnant of the door from its hinges, and tossed it further ahead onto the cobblestones like a petulant child.

Then, with fire still blooming all along his antlers and face, Nelson sucked air into his lungs like a bellows from hell. He roared, and the sound rebounded off the walls of the great fissure.

There had been Dwarves and Elves gathering in the space behind the gate, holding polearms and other weapons. Nelson's roar hit them, and all semblance of courage vanished immediately. The soldiers broke formation and ran, with some abandoning weapons or armor to gain speed. Those initially brave enough to try standing their ground still backpedaled, and as the rest of the cavalry streamed forward, they ran as well.

Matt led Nelson forward, letting the lifeguards surround him again. He let the spell lapse, knowing it wasn't meant to be sustained for a long time. The berserk strength went out of the warbuck, and as the Hounds streamed into the inner city, Matt dismounted and moved to check Nelson's status.

The charge against the gate had left its mark. Nelson was still shaking his head, as if trying to clear it, and there were bleeding scrapes along his broad face. Matt felt a pang of guilt as he tried to wipe away the blood and splintered wreckage. "I'm sorry, Nelson. You did well."

Nelson grunted sourly at him, but Matt patted him on the flank and the warbuck huffed in acceptance.

Shouts were still ringing from the Hounds as they continued to dismount and take up positions around the square and the wall top. Some of them were exchanging arrow fire with enemies along the battlements and streets; their longbows were dealing devastating casualties to the scattered and isolated defenders. It didn't take long for the area to be cleared. Meanwhile, others of the Hounds were bringing their mounts into a gatehouse, turning it into a fortified stable for their steeds.

Matt handed Nelson's reins to one of the lifeguards and ran up the stairs to the wall top. He peered over the battlements to see what was happening in the lower city. If the first gate had been retaken by the Alliance, then he and the Hounds might have been cut off from reinforcements. At that point, they'd need to try to take the palace on their own.

As he looked out over the lower city, he found a scene of chaos and battle unlike anything he'd seen before. The eastern gate was still apparently in the hands of his army. Banners were flowing through it from the trenches outside, pushing further and further into the city while frantic waves of Dwarves, Knights, and Elves were trying to respond to the threat. More of the Alliance soldiers seemed to be pulling back rather than holding ground, however, and their confusion and panic only grew worse as time went on. Some were even starting to run for the other gates, as if they were thinking of fleeing the city rather than staying to defend it.

He couldn't really blame them for the choice. After all, without the defenses on the walls, and with their soldiers disorganized and panicking, they weren't likely to be able to hold for long. Cheered by the sight of friendly troops already advancing towards him, he turned to the nearest member of the Hounds. "Raise the banners. Let's tell the Alliance that they're being cut off and let the others know that we are waiting for them."

The Knight nodded, and Matt turned back to look at the street below. All they needed to do was hold on until they were reinforced, and then the upper city would fall as well. How hard could that be?

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"They're coming again!"

The shout rang above the clamor of the fighting in the lower city, and Matt cursed as he spun around. Militia were pouring out into the street leading further into the upper city, along with soldiers in heavier armor. He swore under his breath as he recognized Dwarven Crossguards, obviously hoping to use their less-well-trained brethren as cover. A glance told him that further along the wall, some of the Hounds were still exchanging arrow fire with a partial banner of Pinions hiding in the serf hovels in the lower city. Enough of them were turning to face the upper city, however, that he didn't have to call them back yet.

Hounds standing on the wall top aimed at the approaching mass of Dwarves. They were copied by another line of Hounds standing on the ground, their backs to the shattered gate. Longbows bent as the Knights drew back arrows, aiming at a range that was sure to be deadly.

One of the commanders—a Knight he thought was named Carlist—shouted above the warcries of the approaching Dwarves. "Loose at will!"

Arrows sleeted down from the wall top, knocking Dwarves to the ground and felling dozens of them in the middle ranks of the mob. A second volley swept out from the Hounds on the ground, lashing through the front ranks like a lethal wind. The militia crumpled backwards, crying out and panicking as their companions fell wounded and dying on the cobblestones. Those bodies joined others that were already lying in the street, the remnants of previous charges.

As the militia began to rout, the Crossguards in the rear struggled to form ranks and aim the massive, powerful crossbows that gave them their name. A handful of the Dwarven nobles managed to fire, sending bolts to punch through the ranks of the Hounds. One shot caught a lifeguard named Gorwith; the Orc fell dead a moment later. Another whistled past Matt's head, though it did miss by a wide margin.

The Hounds didn't fall back, however. Instead, the dragoons quickly set more arrows to their bowstrings, pushing the longbows out in front of them and aiming down at the milling crowd of Dwarves. More arrows swept through their ranks, in a scattered shower of lethal bodkin arrowpoints. Those few militia that had remained either fell to join their fellows on the cobblestones, or broke completely and fled. A handful of Crossguards fell as well, shot through gaps in their thick armor or the eye slits of their helmets.

Matt watched as the survivors pulled back, retreating into the alleys and buildings near the gate. More of them fell as arrows caught them in their thinner rear armor, but in the end, most of the Crossguards were able to withdraw. He cursed quietly.

The Dwarves had showed themselves more than willing to exchange the lives of their serfs for cover, and the armor meant that even the longbows of the Hounds weren't creating the casualties that they would in other situations. They had to be running out of militia willing to lie down and die for their supposed betters, but the Hounds were also taking casualties at an unfortunate rate.

It didn't help that they were being attacked from both sides; just as many corpses lay in the streets of the low city as were strewn on the cobblestones of the upper. He winced as a Pinion managed to hit a Hound, knocking the Knight from the wall. The woman beside him stood up long enough to unleash a shot of her own; a Pinion in Ravens' colors fell halfway out of a window, an arrow in his eye.

Matt grimaced. If they weren't reinforced soon, he might have to pull back. He didn't think the Alliance could really secure the gate, not after what he and Nelson had done to it. It would be a setback, but it was better than being picked off piecemeal while the rest of the army was still on the way.

Then Tiridine grabbed his shoulder, pointing back into the low city. "Sire, they're coming from that direction! We have to—"

An arrow from a Pinion snapped into the battlement next to her, and the Red Moon Orc ducked down. All the same, Matt saw what she had been pointing towards. What seemed like an entire banner of Alterian Sentinels was marching towards the gate, flooding out of the streets leading to the shattered doors. Their oversized swords and shining armor seemed out of place in the dark and flame-strewn night, though they seemed far more organized and disciplined than the previous attack.

Matt shouted above the chaos. "Face low! Face low!" The Hounds on the wall, still loosing arrows after the hiding Dwarves, turned reluctantly to face the new threat, changing their targets from Dwarves to Elves. Many of them wavered for a moment, as if uncertain or exhausted. Commander Carlist shouted more orders, getting them organized, even as the Elves below charged forward, a warcry filling the air.

"Loose at will!"

Arrows shot down into the ranks of the Sentinels, and this time they had no militia to absorb the impact or heavy armor to shrug off the deadly rain of projectiles. Elves screamed and clutched at arrows that struck them in arms or legs; others crumpled soundlessly with shafts buried in heads, necks, or chests. The charge faltered as more and more Sentinels fell, but at the last moment, the remainder appeared to rally and cross the final remaining distance to the gate.

The Hounds on the ground threw down their longbows and took up their spears, but they weren't going to have a real chance of standing up to warriors like Sentinels. Those long blades would tear straight through the light shields and thin armor the Hounds wore; normally, the dragoons would simply withdraw from threats like these.

Which was why Matt's lifeguard was scattered among the Hounds' ranks, reinforcing them with a small cadre of elite fighters. Even as his warriors fought, however, the line was pushed back from the gate. He grimaced as he saw some of the Elves cut down a handful of Knights and rush up the stairs towards the wall top. "Tiridine, behind!"

The Red Moon Orc spun, her sword lighting with the blue heat of her magic. Fire spread along the edge of her blade, and she brought it down in a broad slash that was meant to catch the closest of the Sentinels.

Unfortunately, her opponent was ready for the move. She ducked the Orc's slash and retaliated with a thrust of her own. Tiridine grimaced as the tip of the Elf's blade caught her in the arm and grunted as lightning crackled down the length of it. The Elf darted in closer as Tiridine fell back, but the lifeguard wasn't done yet. As the Sentinel rushed forward, Tiridine lashed out with her left hand and grabbed the enemy by the throat. Before the Elf could react, she swung the attacker up and out over the edge of the wall, hurling them back to the streets of the lower city.

A second Elf shot forward, hoping to take advantage of Tiridine's distraction, but Matt charged in, his mace already glowing with the heat of the Little Tinderbox. The Elf's eyes went wide as they blocked his swing and their sword snapped; they were flung back down the stairs with a smoldering crater in their side a moment later. The third Elf spent a crucial moment shoving their dead companion aside; a Hound shot them in the back as they started up the stairs again, and they crumpled without a sound.

Matt looked beyond them to see the line starting to break. He caught sight of one of his lifeguards, a High Imp named Rudeth, raising his arms in preparation for a spell. The man had fought with him at Bridgeton, the Forks, and the Ridge. Knowing the High Imp Matt had to guess that the spell would be Fire Blossom, probably thrown in the midst of the incoming Elves.

He threw his own strength behind Gran's Gift, and just barely managed to make the timing work. Moments later, his strength flowed through the connection to Rudeth, and through the Imp, out into the spell.

A titanic blast flowered in the middle of the Elves. What should have been a burst of flame that killed two or three Elves became a sudden wave of destruction that slew a dozen outright and felled dozens more. The blast even knocked some of the Hounds and lifeguards backwards, but it did far more to blunt the charge of the Sentinels. Elves that had been pushing forward were now staggering and falling back, fighting to avoid being surrounded rather than to break the Hounds' line.

Rudeth was still frozen in place, his eyes wide from the devastation he had just wrought. He looked up at Matt just in time for a crossbow bolt to punch through the front of his breastplate. His already wide eyes went blank, and the Imp fell forward as Matt's eyes snapped up to the inner street. The Crossguards were back, seeing the chance to help their allies.

He snarled as the Hounds struggled to turn around and face the renewed threat from the upper city. Even as they rained arrows down on the Dwarves again, Matt heard another roar of Dwarven throats, and glanced back to see a pair of militia banners rushing into view, plainly hoping to reinforce the shattered banner of Sentinels. Desperation clawed at him. They were going to be overwhelmed at this rate. There had to be something…

Then, just as the militia were forming up, a trumpet sounded, and Eagle Company made their presence known.

The Knights slammed into the militia from the rear, their poleaxes reaping a terrible cost. Militia, already seeing the elite of the Elves put to flight, abruptly panicked. Chaos erupted as some tried to run, others tried to turn and reform ranks, and others tried to charge towards the gate on their own. Through it all, the Sentinels tried to force their way through to reform and were confronted by a banner of warriors deadly enough to face them on their own terms.

Seeing their allies routed, the Crossguards started to pull back, chased once more by arrows. The Pinions in the low city tried to shift their attacks to the incoming Knights, but a chain of explosions tore through the buildings where they were hiding. A banner of High Guard Imps rushed into view a moment later, along with a banner of Orcish Bloodsworn and another of Red Guard. Whatever resistance that had remained among the Alliance troops fled, and all that remained were troops that were surrendering or fleeing.

Matt slumped in relief as he watched the reinforcements arrive. They'd held out long enough. Then he shook his head and went down the stairs, followed by Tiridine and a few more of his lifeguards.

Lucy arrived moments later, having cut her way through the Alliance troops, her own bodyguards on either side of her. Her face was alight with triumph as she approached. "Glad to see you didn't decide to just finish things off without me! I halfway expected to have to find you in the palace itself."

Matt snorted. "You got here just in time. I was about to get started on my own."

Both of them knew he was lying, but she smirked at him, anyway. Her eyes briefly scanned the number of bodies covering the cobblestones, and her expression grew sober. "How many?"

He lowered his voice. "They're spent. The Hounds should either hold position here or withdraw. I'll leave another couple of banners with them, but we'll need to use someone else to assault the inner city." Matt looked towards the gate. "How's the lower city?"

She responded in her own low tones. "Almost ours. Most of the militia have collapsed already, and aside from another banner of Sentinels, they were the only real solid resistance." Lucy paused and shook her head. "There are more banners of Pinions, though, and the Shadow Hunters and High Guards are trying to hunt them all down. Apparently, they have their own methods for doing so."

More explosions roared on the opposite side of the wall, and Matt winced as he remembered some of the stories he'd heard from Snolt. Hopefully, the fires wouldn't spread too far and the Pinions wouldn't try to use the serfs as shields. He didn't know how much hope he could hold out for it, though. "Half my lifeguards are down too. It looks like the Alliance troops are hiding rather than coming out against us."

Before Lucy could respond, another voice intruded. "I am grateful you saved some measure of glory for us, sire."

Matt turned to find Captain Rordine walking through the gate, flanked by some of his Bloodsworn. The Red Moon Orc's eye was fixed on the high city, and it blazed with a thirst for battle that made Matt wary. "I'm glad you and your troops found your way here so quickly, Captain. Though it seems so far you've mostly only faced militia. A pity."

Lucy spoke, her voice carefully neutral. "We should have plenty of reinforcements soon. A Company of Hawks should be here soon to guard the prisoners."

"Pathetic serfs. They should have known better than to fight their superiors." Rordine seemed completely unaware of the way the Hounds and Eagles stiffened with anger. He looked back at Matt, ignoring Lucy. "Sire, if you wish, my men and I will take the palace for you now. Unless you believe we should wait for help?"

Matt's eyes narrowed for a moment, detecting a hint of a challenge in the Captain's question, but he nodded. "We have only seen some of the Alliance troops here so far. The rest must be hiding in the palace, and I would not waste your men against such a challenge."

Rordine raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps these… allies could show their worth by advancing first?"

Angry mutters started up among the Hounds, but Lucy just smiled. "If the nobles are afraid to go first, we'd welcome the chance to show them what true bravery is like."

A brief snarl formed on Rordine's face as he twisted to face her, but Matt spoke up before they could argue. "Bravery isn't going to be what gets us inside." He looked at Lucy. "We need the Hill Guards or the Sparrows. Are they coming?"

She nodded. "They should be on their way now. The Sparrows might get here first; the Hill Guards had to come all the way across the trenches first."

Rordine seemed to fight to regain his self-control. "As if those toys can maneuver through the streets so easily! The Hill Guard will be here, or I'll have their heads for dawdling."

"For now, the Hounds will secure this gate with Captain Tirsen's Red Guard and Captain Gu'moth's High Guard." Matt felt a moment of relief at recognizing those officers in the approaching troops; Tirsen, at least, had seemed to be a reasonable man. "Eagle Company and the Bloodsworn will start clearing the upper city in preparation for the rest of the army."

Rordine's eye narrowed. "Sire, if we just strike directly at the palace—"

Matt tried not to sound like his patience was waning, though it was. It was extremely early in the morning to have to try to manage things like this. "Don't push into the palace if you can avoid it, because they'll be expecting that. We'll hit the palace, but I want to make sure that we aren't going to be facing ambushes on every street until we reach the place. Understand?"

Lucy cocked an eyebrow at him and then nodded. Rordine seemed like he was about to argue further, only to grunt and nod. "It will be done, sire."

The Orc strode off towards his troops, already bellowing orders. Lucy watched him for a moment and then looked at Matt. She kept her voice low. "He talks too much."

Matt nodded slowly. "Let's hope that's all he does. Be careful."

"You too." She paused long enough to give Nelson a pat. Then she turned to her own men and raised her voice and sword together. "Heroes of the Revolution, to me!"

As the infantry started to move into the upper city, Matt saw Tiridine trying to bandage the wound on her arm with some of the other lifeguards. He walked over to her, already bracing for an argument he knew was coming.

Tiridine looked up as he approached. "Sire, I—"

"I need you and the others who are wounded to stay here." Stubborn refusal welled up in her eyes, but Matt held his ground. "If this gate falls to a counterattack, our forces in the upper city might be cut off. I need people I can depend on with the banners here."

The Red Moon Orc shook her head. "I'm no Captain, sire."

Matt nodded. He stepped in close. "Then be my blade. If someone seems to be doing something unwise, remind them who is in charge."

She seemed to struggle with the order. Then she glanced at the still-bleeding gouge in her arm and slumped. "Very well, sire."

He nodded again and stepped away. Balred fell in beside him, his voice cold despite the blood that covered his armor. "We will only have seven left to guard you, my liege."

Matt looked at him. "And?"

"You should stay here and wait for reinforcements." Balred shook his head. "If you fall…"

He sighed. "It would be almost as bad to let Rordine try to take charge, Balred. He needs to know I'm out there, ready to step on his neck if I need to." The Hard Scythe Orc grimaced, but he nodded. Matt looked around and caught sight of another banner of Bloodsworn flooding in through the gate. "That's the Fourth, right?"

Balred nodded. "Yes, sire."

"Then we'll move forward with Captain Tollardine and his troops. Rordine and Lucy can push up with their own soldiers, and hopefully we'll be able to breach the palace by sunrise." Matt gave Balred a grim smile as he glanced up at the sky. The night stars were being hidden, now, by the columns of smoke that were rising; the streets below were lit by more and more fire. "Let's go."