The chemistry of revenge was a delicate thing, much like the bomb Valeria was currently constructing on the kitchen table.
The device was ugly. It consisted of a reinforced iron canister - scavenged from the Guild's mining equipment - filled with water that Caspian had pressurized until the metal groaned. Inside the water floated a glass vial containing Ignis's most volatile concoction: Liquid Fire, a mixture of sulfur, pitch, and the essence of Fire Bloom.
"The trigger mechanism is simple," Ignis explained, his voice hushed in the pre-dawn silence. He pointed to a small pin on the canister's lid. "When this pin is pulled, the glass vial breaks. The fire essence meets the pressurized water. The resulting steam expansion will be instantaneous and catastrophic. It is not an explosion in the traditional sense. It is a thermal shockwave."
Valeria nodded, carefully wrapping the canister in wool to keep it stable. "A steam bomb. Clean, powerful, and leaves no magical residue for the Guild to track."
"It will vaporize anything within twenty feet," Kael rumbled from the corner, where he was oiling his axe. "Are you sure you want to be the one carrying it?"
"I'm not carrying it," Valeria said, looking up with a cold smile. "The Duke is. He has a stronger throwing arm."
She stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the sky was a bruised purple, the sun struggling to rise over the snow-choked valley. The Duke of Ironclad was already in the yard, checking the harness of the two horses pulling the sleigh. He moved stiffly, his injuries from the ambush still fresh, but his hands were steady.
"It's time," Valeria said.
The plan relied on timing, terrain, and the specific psychological profile of Commander Varg. Varg was a predator. Predators didn't like easy meals; they liked the chase. But they also couldn't resist the scent of blood in the water.
Valeria walked out into the cold, her breath pluming before her. She approached the Duke.
"Ready to be live bait?" she asked.
The Duke tightened the cinch on the lead horse. "I have been bait for political rivals for thirty years. At least this time, the enemy has the decency to try and kill me to my face."
He looked at the canister Valeria was holding. "Is that the surprise?"
"Part of it," Valeria said, handing it to him carefully. "Do not drop it. Do not shake it. And for the love of the gods, do not pull the pin until I say so."
The Duke weighed the bomb in his hand, a grim appreciation in his eyes. "Understood."
"Kael, Ignis, Silas," Valeria turned to her husbands. "You know the rendezvous point. The box canyon at the eastern ridge. You have one hour to get into position. If Varg sees you before we get there, the trap fails."
"He won't see us," Silas said, his grey eyes shimmering. "We are upwind. And we are angry."
"Go," Valeria ordered.
The three beastmen vanished into the twilight, moving with a silent speed that no human soldier could match. Even Ignis, usually slow, was carried on Kael's back to ensure they made good time.
Valeria climbed into the sleigh beside the Duke. She wrapped her heavy fur cloak around herself, checking the Silent Crossbow hidden beneath the seat.
"Let's make some noise," Valeria said.
The Duke snapped the reins. "Hya!"
The horses lunged forward. The sleigh surged out of the gate, its runners carving deep lines into the fresh snow. They didn't head for the hidden trails. They headed straight for the open road - the main artery leading toward the box canyon.
Valeria reached into her pocket and pulled out a bandage soaked in the Duke's blood - saved from when Silas had dressed his wounds. She tied it to the back of the sleigh.
"Subtle," the Duke noted dryly.
"Varg tracks souls," Valeria shouted over the wind. "But his dogs track blood. I want to make sure they don't miss us."
They rode for two miles in tense silence, the only sound the rhythmic thudding of hooves and the hiss of the runners. The landscape was a blur of white and grey pine.
Then, Valeria saw it.
Through the Merchant's Monocle, a red marker appeared on the ridge line behind them.
[Target Detected: Commander Varg.]
[Distance: 1.5 miles.]
[Speed: 40 mph.]
"He's here," Valeria yelled. "Five o'clock! Ridge line!"
The Duke glanced back.
A black shape was tearing down the slope. It wasn't a horse. It was a massive, armored Dire Wolf, easily the size of a bull. Riding atop it was a man clad in black leather armor, a long spear in his hand. Following closely behind him were six fresh Hell-Hounds.
"He brought friends!" the Duke shouted, whipping the horses.
"Faster!" Valeria urged. "We need to hit the canyon before he closes the gap!"
The chase was on.
Varg was gaining. His mount was built for this terrain, its massive paws acting like snowshoes, whereas the sleigh horses struggled in the deeper drifts.
Valeria turned in her seat, raising the crossbow. She aimed not at Varg, but at the snowbank above him.
Thwip.
The bolt struck the ice shelf. It wasn't enough to cause an avalanche, but it dislodged a heavy sheet of snow that crashed down in front of the Hell-Hounds. Two of the dogs tumbled, losing their footing, but Varg's mount simply leaped over the debris.
"He's good!" Valeria cursed.
"He's the Houndmaster!" the Duke yelled. "He hunts Wyverns for sport!"
They were a half-mile from the canyon entrance. Varg was now only three hundred yards behind.
Valeria could see his face now. He wore no mask. His face was a roadmap of scars, his eyes manic and wide. He was smiling.
"Run, little rabbit!" Varg's voice carried supernaturally over the wind. "Run to your hole!"
"He knows," Valeria realized. "He knows we're heading for the canyon."
"He thinks we're cornered," the Duke said, his jaw set. "He doesn't think we're leading him."
The entrance to the box canyon loomed ahead—a narrow fissure between two towering cliffs of granite. It was a geological dead end, a natural prison.
"Hold on!" the Duke shouted.
He yanked the reins. The sleigh drifted sideways, spraying snow, and skidded through the narrow gap. They were inside.
The canyon opened up into a bowl shape, surrounded by hundred-foot sheer walls. There was no exit.
"Pull up!" Valeria ordered.
The Duke hauled on the reins. The horses reared and came to a halt in the center of the snowy bowl.
Valeria and the Duke jumped out, abandoning the sleigh. They stood back-to-back, weapons drawn.
Seconds later, Varg burst through the entrance.
He didn't stop. He rode his Dire Wolf into the center of the canyon, his six hounds fanning out around him to cut off any escape. He pulled on the reins, and his mount skidded to a halt, snarling.
Varg looked down at them from his high saddle. He looked at the dead end. He looked at the Duke's hammer and Valeria's crossbow.
"Disappointing," Varg sighed, his voice echoing off the canyon walls. "I expected a fortress. I expected the 'Tiger General'. Instead, I find a wounded old man and a girl playing soldier in a hole."
He pointed his spear at the Duke.
"Ironclad. You have caused the Guild a lot of paperwork. Surrender now, and I'll let the dogs eat you quickly."
The Duke stepped forward, hefting the bomb in his left hand, hidden behind his cloak.
"You talk too much, Varg," the Duke growled. "Did you ever consider that the hole isn't for us?"
Varg frowned. He scanned the canyon walls. His tracker instincts were screaming at him, but he couldn't smell anything over the overwhelming scent of the Duke's blood and the Corpse-Flower mist clinging to Valeria's clothes.
"You have no backup," Varg sneered. "I tracked your souls. Just two terrified heartbeats."
"Three," a deep voice rumbled from the snow directly beneath Varg's mount.
Varg's eyes went wide.
The snow exploded.
Kael didn't attack from the walls. He had buried himself. He erupted from the ground like a landmine, his golden form flashing in the morning light. He didn't go for Varg. He went for the Dire Wolf's legs.
With a roar, Kael slammed his shoulder into the beast's knee.
CRUNCH.
The Dire Wolf howled as its leg snapped. It toppled sideways, throwing Varg from the saddle.
The Commander hit the snow and rolled, coming up instantly with his spear ready. He was fast - unnaturally fast.
"Ambush!" Varg screamed. "Kill them!"
The six Hell-Hounds charged.
"Now!" Valeria screamed. "Ignis!"
High above, on the rim of the canyon entrance, a figure in a red robe appeared. Ignis held a small, metallic object in his hand - the Seed of the Iron-Bark Oak they had bought from Renard.
Ignis dropped the seed into the narrow fissure that served as the canyon's only exit.
"Grow," Ignis commanded, pouring a flask of concentrated World Tree Water onto the seed as it fell.
The effect was instantaneous and terrifying.
The seed hit the ground and detonated into life. Thick, metallic roots erupted from the soil, tearing through the rock. In seconds, a wall of gnarled, iron-hard wood shot up, weaving together to seal the canyon entrance completely.
Varg heard the sound of the exit slamming shut. He glanced back. He was trapped.
"You think a tree can stop me?" Varg roared, stabbing his spear at Kael, who dodged with a metallic clang. "I will burn it down!"
"It's fireproof, idiot!" Valeria shouted.
She looked at the Duke. "The bomb! Now!"
The Hell-Hounds were closing in on them.
The Duke pulled the pin on the canister. He heard the glass vial break inside. The canister began to hiss.
He didn't throw it at the dogs. He threw it at the cliff wall above Varg.
"Heads up!" the Duke yelled.
The canister sailed through the air. It hit the granite wall twenty feet above the canyon floor.
BOOM.
The steam explosion was deafening. It didn't produce fire; it produced a shockwave of pure, superheated pressure. It shattered the granite face of the cliff.
Tons of rock and snow detached from the wall.
"Avalanche!" Varg screamed, looking up.
The landslide came down like the fist of a god. It buried the Hell-Hounds instantly. Varg tried to leap away, using a skill to boost his speed, but the debris field was too wide. A boulder the size of a carriage clipped him, sending him spinning into the snow.
When the dust settled, the canyon was silent.
The Hell-Hounds were gone, buried under twenty feet of rock. The Dire Wolf lay dead, crushed by debris.
Only Varg remained.
He pulled himself out of a snowdrift near the center of the kill box. He was battered, his armor dented, his spear broken in half. He coughed blood, staggering to his feet.
He looked around. Kael stood to his left, axe raised. Silas and Caspian had emerged from their hiding spots on the ridge and were repelling down the ropes. The Duke stood in front of him, hammer ready.
And Valeria stood ten paces away, leveling her crossbow at his chest.
"Checkmate," Valeria said coldly.
Varg laughed. It was a wet, gurgling sound.
"You think... you've won?" Varg wheezed. "You killed my pack. You trapped me. But you forgot one thing."
He reached into his tunic and pulled out a small, crimson crystal.
"The Guild doesn't just send hunters," Varg grinned, blood staining his teeth. "We send beacons."
He crushed the crystal.
A pillar of red light shot straight up into the sky, piercing the clouds. It was visible for miles.
"A distress signal," Ignis shouted from the top of the wall. "Level One Priority! Every Guild agent within a hundred miles will see that!"
"Let them see it," the Duke said, stepping forward. "They will arrive too late to save you."
Varg dropped the dust of the crystal. He drew a short sword from his boot.
"I don't need saving," Varg hissed, his eyes turning entirely black as he activated a Berserker state. "I just need to take you with me."
He lunged at Valeria.
He was fast. Too fast for Kael to intercept. Too fast for the Duke to swing his heavy hammer.
Valeria watched him come. She saw the madness in his eyes. She saw the blade aiming for her throat.
She didn't flinch. She didn't fire the crossbow.
She simply stepped aside.
Thwip.
A single steel needle, thin as a hair, flew from the high ridge.
It didn't hit Varg in the eye. It hit him in the neck, right where the armor met the helmet.
Varg stumbled mid-stride. His leg went numb. Then his arm.
"Paralytic," Lucian's voice chirped from somewhere high above. "Viper venom. Courtesy of the Library."
Varg crashed face-first into the snow at Valeria's feet. He tried to move, to crawl, but his body refused to obey. He could only glare up at her with hateful, paralyzed eyes.
Valeria looked down at him.
"You tracked a soul," she whispered, leaning closer. "But you should have checked the resume attached to it. I'm not a rabbit, Commander. I'm the one who writes the end of the book."
She looked at the Duke.
"He's all yours, Your Grace. I believe you have a tribunal to convene."
The Duke walked over. He looked at the paralyzed Hunter.
"Bind him," the Duke ordered Kael. "Chain him with the heaviest iron you have. He is going to testify. And then..."
The Duke raised his hammer, letting it rest on his shoulder.
"...then he is going to hang."
Valeria turned away from the fallen enemy. She looked up at the red beacon of light still fading in the sky.
The trap had worked. They had captured the Commander.
But the beacon was a timer. The Guild was coming. Not a squad, not a pack, but an army.
"We have to move," Valeria said, her voice cutting through the victory. "Ignis, dissolve the Iron-Bark wall. We need to get him back to the fort before the cavalry arrives."
"And then?" Kael asked, hauling the paralyzed Varg over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
"Then," Valeria said, reloading her crossbow, "we prepare for the Siege."