Page 63 of An Unlikely Knight

“We’ll hold here. Go check the rear!” Tristan called out over the din.

Padriag raced into the keep and raced upstairs to a crumbling balcony. A bow and quiver waited there. He grabbed it.

Some of Meliot’s men had managed to make it past the fire and were advancing.

The dark warriors were trampling over their own fallen to breach the back defenses.

The others had to defend the front where there were more opponents

The arrows Padriag had wouldn’t be enough. There were too many enemies.

Fire. It had to be fire.

Summoning another ball of flame, he hurled it downward.

The second line of brush ignited.

Screams erupted, the smell of burning flesh filling the air.

Padraig grabbed the bow, notched an arrow, and fired. Another. Another. Each shot found its mark, thinning the herd of whatever creatures had survived the flames.

At last, the rear of the keep fell silent.

Breathing hard, he hurried back to the first level, where the others had returned inside and peered out through the cracks in the stone.

“Where is the dragon?” Padraig asked.

Liam, stood by a window peering out. “Circling. It’s not attacking—it’s scouting. Probably sending messages back to Meliot.”

“At least there’s only one dragon,” Niall muttered. “That we know of.”

They had little time to waste. The men rushed outside, reinforcing their firewall with more dried brush, oil, and powder before retreating into the keep to drink water and prepare for what came next.

They barely had time to catch their breath before Tristan’s voice rang from the top of the keep.

“I see sentinels! More fighters incoming!”

The wolf-creatures were formidable.

Padraig’s stomach clenched. Unpredictable. Ruthless. And worst of all—fast. They couldn’t wield swords, but the creatures’ teeth and claws were just as deadly.

The battle raged again.

They triggered the fire—more screams, more bodies turned to ash. Arrows and spears rained down, Niall and Tristan’s spears finding their marks.

Then—the ground trembled.

A third wave thundered toward the keep.

Overhead, the dragon shrieked, and fire rained from the sky.

They barely made it inside before the ground where they’d stood was scorched black.

Through the window, Niall cursed. “Centaurs.”

Padraig’s gut turned to ice. Elite warriors. Eagle-eyed. The centaur archers were death itself.

His jaw clenched. “Gavin, time to test those shields.”

How much longer could they hold them off?

Padraig had no answer. But as he crouched behind the crumbling wall, watching the dust and smoke on the horizon, he knew one thing.

This was only the beginning.