Snow drifted in slow spirals from the darkening sky, settling on the jagged stones of the Western Pass. The wind carried the scent of pine and the sharp bite of frost. Veer stood at the mouth of the pass, his cloak whipping behind him, eyes fixed on the shadowed road ahead.
The alliance army was arrayed along the narrow slopes — archers high on the ridges, shield lines across the choke points, cavalry hidden in the folds of the hills. They had moved swiftly and silently, claiming the high ground before Virath's scouts could fully measure their strength.
Bhairav, wrapped in furs, approached with a grim look. "Scouts report movement two miles west. Torches. A lot of them. They're advancing slow — not in battle formation, more like… waiting to see if we flinch."
Veer's gaze narrowed. "He's testing our patience. If we strike too soon, we lose the advantage of the pass. If we wait too long, he'll bring more men and press us from both sides."
General Rudra joined them, his breath a mist in the cold. "Majesty, the men are restless. They want to fight. But I think this is what Virath wants — to make us impatient, to draw us into the open."
Veer walked to the edge of the ridge and looked down at the frozen stream below. The pass here was barely wide enough for six men to walk abreast. If Virath attacked, he'd have to send his troops through in waves. That was Veer's greatest advantage — one he could not waste.
"Hold positions," Veer ordered. "No arrows unless I give the signal. Let him think we are fewer than we are. When his vanguard enters the pass, we will trap them like fish in a net."
Bhairav grinned. "And the net will have teeth."
Night fell heavy, and the enemy's torches drew nearer, flickering like fireflies in the black. Then came the first sound — not of marching boots, but of horns, deep and resonant. The echoes bounced off the cliffs, making it impossible to tell the size of the force.
Virath was playing the game well.
Hours passed before the first figures emerged from the western shadows. They wore heavy cloaks over polished armor, the hawk sigil glinting faintly in the torchlight. A banner rose above them, its golden bird spreading its wings as if to blot out the stars.
But instead of an immediate charge, the front ranks stopped. A lone rider broke from their lines, moving slowly through the snow toward Veer's position.
Bhairav tensed. "Another envoy."
"Let him come," Veer said. "The pass is narrow. His words can't hurt us here."
The rider halted at the halfway point and pulled back his hood. He was younger than Veer expected — sharp-eyed, with the confident smile of a man who had never tasted defeat.
"I am Captain Daran of the Sun Hawk Guard," he called out, his voice carrying in the frozen air. "King Virath sends greetings to King Veer, and offers one last chance to avoid bloodshed."
Veer stepped forward, his voice firm. "If Virath wants to avoid bloodshed, he should turn his army around. This pass is closed to him."
Daran's smile didn't waver. "The pass is closed to those who cannot take it. My king believes you are a wise man — wise enough to know that every wall can be climbed, every gate broken. If you leave now, no harm will come to your people."
Bhairav muttered under his breath, "And if we don't, they'll kill us all. Same as every other tyrant's offer."
Veer's eyes locked on Daran's. "Tell your king I do not measure wisdom by how much land I give away. If he wants this pass, he will have to pay for it in blood. And the price will be higher than he can afford."
For the first time, Daran's smile faltered. "Then you've made your choice." He wheeled his horse around and rode back to his lines without another word.
The next morning, the storm began.
At dawn, Virath's vanguard advanced into the pass — tight ranks of shield-bearers with long spears bristling before them. Behind them came archers, their bows ready to send volleys into the cliffs.
Veer held his men steady until the enemy's front line was halfway through the choke point. Then he raised his hand and brought it down sharply.
The ridges erupted.
Arrows rained from above, finding the gaps in armor. Rocks, loosened in the night by Veer's engineers, crashed down into the narrow space, shattering shields and scattering the front ranks.
The vanguard tried to retreat, but the enemy forces behind them kept pressing forward, trapping them in a crush of bodies. The pass became a slaughterhouse.
Bhairav roared, "Forward!" and the shield wall surged down from the slope, slamming into the disoriented enemy. Spears thrust through the gaps, cutting men down before they could raise their weapons.
But Virath's men were disciplined. Even under the deadly rain from above, they fought to hold their formation, using their shields to form a roof against the arrows. Slowly, painfully, they began to push forward again.
Veer knew he had to break their momentum before the rear ranks could reinforce them. "Archers, fire on the rear lines!" he commanded. "Cut them off from the front!"
The order worked — the soldiers behind the vanguard faltered, raising their shields to protect themselves from the arrow storm. The front ranks, suddenly unsupported, began to collapse under the relentless assault.
When the signal horn blew, Veer's cavalry swept in from the side path — a hidden route known only to the mountain villages loyal to the alliance. They smashed into the exposed flank, sending shockwaves through the enemy's formation.
By midday, the pass was littered with the bodies of Virath's vanguard. Those who could still flee did so, scrambling back to the safety of the western slopes.
Bhairav wiped blood from his blade and grinned. "That'll make him think twice."
Veer wasn't so sure. He looked toward the west, where the bulk of Virath's army still waited. The vanguard had been a test, not the real attack.
"He'll be back," Veer said quietly. "Next time, with more men and fewer mistakes."
That night, as the fires burned low, a messenger arrived from the scouts. "Majesty," he said breathlessly, "Virath's main force has stopped. They're building fortifications on the far side of the pass."
Veer exchanged a look with Arivan. "He's not retreating. He's digging in. This won't be a single battle — it'll be a siege."
Bhairav growled, "Then let's break his camp before it's ready."
Veer shook his head. "No. We've bloodied him today, but he still outnumbers us. If we leave the pass, we lose the one thing keeping him at bay. We hold here, no matter what."
Far to the west, in his tent of red silk, King Virath studied the reports from the vanguard's defeat. He was not angry — not yet. Instead, he smiled slowly.
"Good," he said to his generals. "The young king fights well. It will make breaking him all the sweeter."