Kellian’s body moved of its own volition. No thought, just action. He grabbed his sword and sprang up. He shoved the young woman aside and raised his blade to deflect the ifrahn’s attack. No grace, no tactics, just strength against strength.
The great sword snapped his sword off at the hilt and cut down, through his armor, deep into his shoulder and chest.
Fiery pain blazed, but then turned to numbness as a terrible cold gripped his core. The world wavered. His shattered sword fell from his hand as he dropped to his knees. Someone screamed his name as everything slowed.
The ifrahn gripped his hair and pulled the great sword free, preparing to sever his head from his body.
Just as the darkness took him, a hand reached out and touched the ifrahn’s side.
***
Chapter Fifty-two
Sven Malschev
Sven and Laney stayed hidden, but assisted in any way they could without giving the ifrahn more targets. Laney focused on Tetra while Sven helped Malec. His courage swelled, and he knew Pavil did his part as well. So far, Malec appeared to be in a tug of war with a spear the ifrahn chucked at him. The two went back and forth, until Malec rolled back, his face bleeding. As he stood back up, wiping the blood from his face, he looked frightening. When the ifrahn raised its other hand, Sven knew to act.
He planted hands on the damp ground. Months of watching the orocs manipulate earth had taught him the techniques. Now came the test to see how well he’d learned. A slab of earth shot up in front of Malec. The flames slammed into the wall, boiling it. A cry distracted Sven. There was a shattering sound, and the soldier fighting with them crashed into the cliff wall beside Halli.
“I … I think I got it,” Katerine shouted. The flames melting Sven’s earthen shield abated, and the ifrahn uttered a furious hiss. He switched to another trick he’d learned from the orocs. The wall changed shape and shot at the ifrahn, becoming a spear. The ifrahn shoved on the earthen spear with its Archon affinity. It slid back as the spear rushed in, and Sven poured more earth into its formation.
Malec took advantage of the distraction, flipping the ifrahn’s own spear around and hurling it harder than before, followed by scores of tiny shards of metal. With its focus split, the ifrahn flew back against a tree; it didn’t have the strength to fight both their affinities. Its metal spear thrust through its chest, pinning it to the tree.
Then a cry jerked his attention aside. Halli had moved to help the injured soldier and the third ifrahn had shifted behind her. Sven watched, helpless, unable to redirect his affinity in time. The ifrahn raised its sword—and then the soldier rallied to thrust her aside, right before the ifrahn’s massive sword sheared through the man’s sword and into his chest.
“Kellian!” Tetra screamed.
Sven gaped, not knowing what to do, not sure if he could even force himself to move. Then Halli reached out and touched the ifrahn’s side. It jerked and reared, but Halli pulled her hand away. She hung her head. “I can’t.”
Tetra flung his hand up, a snarl on his lips. A ghastly hissing howl tore from the ifrahn’s throat, which died away as it dropped its sword and slumped to the ground.
Tetra ran to Halli, and Sven studied the remnants of his friend’s opponent. Not much left but pulp. Then he looked back as Halli knelt by the fallen soldier and placed her hands on his head.
***
Chapter Fifty-three
Gnarrl
Gnarrl circled the two ifrahn, Fursta at his side. Neither of them had faced an ifrahn before. He felt ill prepared for this, and tried to think of a way to defeat them. Almost impossible to run them through with earth, since they could push spikes away or alter their direction if strong enough. Better to use their Tecton affinity to defend against the flames and projectiles the ifrahn would hurl from a distance. But how to attack?
Twin streams of flames shot from the ifrahn. Twin shields of earth rose to block them. Fursta held the greater Tecton magnitude, while Gnarrl was rich in Geist. Though not strong enough to perform a full soul sever, if he got close enough to touch, he could force one of the ifrahn to astralize—a technique he hadn’t used since the raid on Jaegen, when he’d left the Geist Walker’s sibling to die for killing Maraco. Even in the heat of battle, he wrestled with the shame of the memory.
He forced himself to focus. Keeping behind his earthen shield, he formed a spike from the ground in front of the nearest ifrahn. The ifrahn pushed away and tossed jagged metal bits into the air, which it launched at him. The projectiles bit into his shield, but didn’t penetrate.
Gnarrl shaped another spike from further away and hurtled it toward his enemy. The ifrahn hissed as it deflected this one, too. Gnarrl roared, frustrated. He risked a glance to check Fursta’s progress. She’d erected thick blocks of earth between herself and the other ifrahn and now ducked and weaved between them, working her way closer while the ifrahn flung torrents of flame at her. Her opponent didn’t seem to notice her approach.
A felled tree trunk flew at Gnarrl. He raised a wall of earth, but the dead log smashed through and knocked him down. The ifrahn warrior gurgled and hissed as it closed to finish him. Gnarrl waited until the serpent came just within reach, then he lifted his head and launched a spike. At the same time, he formed a second spike behind the ifrahn, at the very edge of his influence.
The ifrahn growled and pushed back from the frontal attack. It sailed backward until, with a startled grunt, it impaled itself through the heart.
“Gnarrl!”
Fursta’s shout came just as the second ifrahn’s spear took him in the side. He howled and grabbed the haft. It burned. The serpent threw itself at him as he struggled to pull the spear out. Then Fursta collided with the reptile, sending them both crashing. They rolled to a stop as the ifrahn gave a last gurgling breath and lay still, a blade of earth punched up through its skull.
He lay back as she rushed to him. “Put your foot on my side, next to the wound,” he said. “When you pull the spear out, don’t hesitate. Fast and strong. Fling it away quickly, it burns to the touch.”
He howled again as she ripped the spear free. Fursta knelt, and he felt the soothing touch of Geist flow into him. He looked over to the pillar of earth she’d summoned, using it to fling herself at the ifrahn. Clever. The same tactic they’d used at Drayston. Sounds of fighting came from both directions now, back toward the cave and also in the direction the human saplings had fled.
Gnarrl tried to rise. “We must aid them!”
Fursta held him down. “Not until I’m finished. You’re no good wounded.”
***
Chapter Fifty-four
Malthius Reynolds
The stack of ifrahn corpses had grown high enough that it forced the attackers to climb over their own dead to engage the humans. Bealdred was a force of nature, beyond human. Reynolds finally understood the stories of the day the twelve Dreadknights had taken the field alone against the ifrahn nation of Scalardin and emerged victorious. But the losses just enraged the creatures, and they seemed committed to overwhelming them by sheer numbers.
Reynolds fought on, slaying all comers, but he knew he could slow time only once, maybe twice, more before total exhaustion claimed him. The overuse already threatened his focus, and his vision flickered red and gray around the edges.
Sibyl fought the ifrahn up close, jamming daggers into their eyes and throats, using her prescience to know when to dodge their Archon-powered blade attacks, leaving her, always, in the perfect position to strike. Her Admired battled with blade and bow, but several had gone down under the ifrahn who’d slipped past Bealdred.
“Bealdred!” Andros shouted over the din of battle. “Can you get above the cave?”
Above? Reynolds silenced a screaming ifrahn with his sword through its mouth. Then he glanced at the boulder-strewn mound above the cave mouth. Of course. He should’ve seen. The arch over the entrance wasn’t formed from solid rock, but packed-in boulders and rubble.
“Aye!” Bealdred sh
outed. He crushed an ifrahn’s head and kicked it aside.
“Do it!” Andros parried an attack and lopped off one of his opponent’s arms, sending it toppling.
Bealdred jumped far higher than a man his size, and in full armor, should have been able to. Landing halfway up the boulder pile he scrambled the rest of the way, to the top of the cave. The others finished the ifrahn they faced and closed in, trying to stem the flood. Then, from one instant to the next, they stopped coming.
“Voids,” Sibyl cried. “Get away! Get—”
The pile of bodies exploded, flinging bodies and limbs everywhere. Most ducked the flying dead, though a severed something, Reynolds couldn’t see what, whipped Sibyl’s legs out from under her. Another corpse struck Oltarian flat, where he lay unmoving.
Reynolds lifted his head and his blood turned to ice. A solitary ifrahn stood in the now-cleared cave mouth, golden armor bonded to its black scales. An ifrahn Archmage. It slinked forward, gazing steadily as it took in the battleground. One of the remaining Admired charged—and then snapped up into the sky so fast, his scream faded almost instantly.
Bealdred’s war hammer struck the central boulder forming the roof of the cave entrance. The gargantuan piece of stone cracked and fell toward the Archmage. The ifrahn lifted a hand, and the boulder rose back into place.
Reynolds and the rest regained their feet and charged in again as more ifrahn flowed out around the Archmage.
***
Chapter Fifty-five
Halli Bicks
Kellian lay unmoving. Halli cradled his head in her hands, eyes closed. The ifrahn her brother had somehow killed lay just behind her, but Tetra ignored it to stare at his fallen friend. He held his breath, for Kellian’s chest no longer moved. He didn’t even twitch or shudder.
The churned-up waters were muddied with blood. Stillness draped over the clearing, no one moving as they waited. The children hiding behind the boulder made an occasional sniffle or wail until Sven and Laney shushed them.
Halli reached deep and realized it wouldn’t be enough. So she pushed out, asking the forest for help. It answered. Geist flowed through her, fanning the last spark of life about to extinguish itself in the soldier. It caught fire.
Then the corporal drew a ragged breath. Tetra stared as the flesh and bone stitched back together, from his exposed ribcage up to his shoulder. Muscle knotted and twined. The skin mended itself, covering the wounds. When Halli opened her eyes and drew her hands away, red welts and the damaged armor remained the only evidence of his ever being wounded.
His cheeks looked sunken, and he was thin. Too thin. She could feel the wasted, starved muscles and vascular system. Whatever he had done in the battle, he had pushed his affinity to the point that he should have been dead, even without the mortal blow. She shook her head. When would the blood stop?
“He’ll need lots of water when he wakes. He’s lost a great deal of blood.” She stood, and Tetra stood before her, a look of disbelief on his face. They regarded each other for a moment before she embraced him. He wrapped his arms around her and held tight. “I knew you’d come,” she cried into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I tried to get them out, to save them myself. I wasn’t strong enough.”
“Of course I came,” was all he could say.
“We didn’t know you would bring an army though,” Sven said.
Tetra hesitated and then held Halli at arm’s length. “Take care of Kellian. I never would’ve made it to you without him.”
Her expression cracked. “Tetra, you can’t go back!”
“I have to.” He kissed her cheek and then turned away. “I can’t leave them to die while I run. Get them to safety.”
He took off at a sprint, making himself lighter. The forest rushed past as he ran faster than ever before. He came upon the orocs who were making their way toward Halli and the others. Tetra halted, glaring at Gnarrl. The orocs stopped and returned his gaze, expressions inscrutable. Despite what Halli said, he wanted little more than to take Gnarrl’s head off. The oroc stood still, arms dangling, head bowed slightly as if inviting Tetra to take his revenge.
Screams echoed from near the cave. Making his choice, Tetra ran past the orocs, staring Gnarrl down as he went. “I’ll be back for you, murderer.” He prepared to increase his speed again when a tremendous crash sounded above him.
Gnarrl bellowed as Tetra looked up. An ifrahn plummeted through the hole it had made in the forest canopy. He threw himself aside as the ifrahn rammed a spear down. It just missed his leg, but one of the creature’s ribbons lashed out and struck him across the back and bent one of the locking rings of his brace. He slammed into the ground, wind rushing from his lungs. His back spasmed, momentarily stealing his strength as he struggled to rise.
The ifrahn advanced, spear poised. The orocs ran for them, but Tetra knew they were too far away to intercept in time.
Movement from the corner of his eye coalesced into a hulking, yet sleek, beast. It pounced on the ifrahn, bearing it down. The ifrahn’s screech cut off as the giant cat ripped out its throat. Muzzle stained with blood, the cat left its prey and prowled toward Tetra. He stared up, waiting for the beast to tear his face off, but it just sniffed him over.
“Leave him be,” came Halli’s voice. The cat slunk off and Tetra rose shakily to his feet. Though he couldn’t read their faces well, he thought the orocs looked as shocked as he felt. The monstrous cat loped over to Halli and licked her face. “Thank you for coming back,” she said, stroking its color-shifting fur.
Gnarrl said something in the oroc tongue.
With a bone-shaking roar, the big cat bounded away, and Tetra watched until its form blended into the forest. Then he glared at Halli.
“I told you to stay with Mikkels,” Tetra said.
“If I had, you’d be dead. Besides, you don’t get to tell me anything. I am older, after all.” They exchanged quick grins before she turned serious. “Your other friends may need healing.”
Grimacing in agreement, he broke into a run again, now with her at his side.
***
Chapter Fifty-six
Malthius Reynolds
They couldn’t hold out much longer. Reynolds fought an ifrahn as skilled with the sword as himself, no small feat for the short-lived race. None of them remained unwounded. Alleen had taken a metal bolt through the calf, yet kept fighting. Sibyl had lost her daggers but now wielded a spear she’d snatched from a fallen ifrahn. Three warriors converged on her as she tried to keep them at bay.
Andros held a hand to his bleeding side, sword blurring as he fended off a larger ifrahn with a great sword. Oltarian had just risen, looking dazed, and the few remaining Admired struggled to maintain their ground. Reynolds’ few nicks and scratches made him the luckiest so far, other than Bealdred, but it couldn’t last. Someone would fall at any moment, and then they’d be overrun.
Either Bealdred collapsed the cave in the next handful of seconds or they all perished. And if they died, the children would, too. But the ifrahn Archmage kept the cave braced open while the blacksmith tried to hammer it down from above.
Reynolds ducked a slash, causing his opponent to overreach. He thrust out. The tip of the blade found a gap in the ifrahn’s breastplate and sank home. Planting a foot on the creature’s chest, he kicked it back into those still pressing to escape the cave.
A shout rose behind him. He looked back as Tetra charged into the fray. The young man swung his mace and sword, becoming a whirlwind of destruction. Ifrahn fell and flew aside with each blow. Their heads rolled away and limbs tumbled. Reaching the front of the cave, Tetra yelled defiance with every devastating strike. The ferocity of his assault beat back the tide, and the others closed around him.
One of the Admired Volcons dropped as a lucky spear-throw took him in the face. At this, the mass of ifrahn withdrew back into the cave, leaving the Archmage alone once more. Reynolds understood an instant later. The fire dampening. One Volcon couldn’t suppress the Archmage’s flames.
>
The Archmage pointed at Tetra, mouth stretched in a macabre grin. Bealdred roared with a basso battle cry, his armor glowing. Time slowed, then stopped as Reynolds stormed. He took a breath, studying.
He knew what he had to do.
The first spark of fire manifested before the Archmage’s outstretched hand. Reynolds darted around Tetra who stood frozen in place. The budding flames blocked the strike he needed. He didn’t know how long he could maintain his control, so he abandoned any effort to avoid the fire. It seared the flesh of his sword arm as he rammed his weapon through the ifrahn’s chest.
The impossible happened. The ifrahn’s eyes focused on him and a spear of pure force slammed through him. He felt bones shattering throughout his body.
Time snapped back to true. The flames wrapped Reynolds in their embrace and danced across his flesh. Above his screams, the pounding of Bealdred’s war hammer sounded like a bell tolling.
***
Chapter Fifty-seven
Tetra Bicks
Tetra realized his mistake too late and knew death had come for him.
Then Reynolds popped into being in front of him, his sword through the ifrahn’s heart. Flames engulfed the man, blocking Tetra’s sight as he stumbled back. Bealdred roared and slammed his hammer into the top of the cave. The central boulder plummeted and the impact drove Tetra to the ground as rocks fell around it, sealing the cave. A deafening rumble blasted through the area as dust and debris filled the air.
As the collapse settled, Tetra raised up on his elbows, stunned and trying to make sense of what just happened. Had he really seen Reynolds? Where was Bealdred? Where had his sword and mace fallen?
“Malthius!” He heard Sibyl cry out.
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