Trailing twin streams of blue fire, Nikias pivoted between two makrasha and whirled the Bladestaff in dizzying arcs, slashing the creatures half a dozen times.

“Follow me,” he shouted before rushing through the gap in the enemy line.

Outriders surged behind him and engaged the makrasha flank, rolling it back and opening the way for more soldiers to cross the bridge. Nikias left them to it and circled the enemy to engage the last two shadeleeches ensconced at the rear.

He whooped another warcry, riding the current of battle fury that drove him on. He had only been chosen as bearer months before, and many scoffed at him, calling him untrained and reckless.

Today he would prove he was worthy.

# # #

Sweat beaded Harafin’s brow. These three are very good.

He’d rarely faced such tightly coordinated attacks. The trio of shadeleeches deployed a wide portfolio of spells, challenging him more than he had been in a long time. Under different circumstances, he would have enjoyed the contest, but today every second lost could prove fatal.

Just as serious, every second spent battling these three expended more of his waning reserves. He’d never experienced such a dearth of latent magic. It was just gone, spent by the battling sentinels, leaving nothing for him to draw upon. With the heart of the mountain sealed and the sun’s rays blocked, no reserves flowed into the area.

A fresh attack began eating through his shields. As he worked to nullify the new threat, a blond-furred halimaw leaped out from where it had been concealed among the makrasha.

Harafin grinned at the rush of fear and excitement. It had been too long since he’d engaged in such a challenge. He was a man of peace at heart, but when the moment called for it, he easily donned his battle persona. He excelled at it.

As the monster launched itself down the slope, Harafin lifted four nearby makrasha corpses into the air and pushed, using them to catapult the halimaw overhead. It was an awkward throw, but with a little luck the monster would land in the river.

With the halimaw at least temporarily out of the way, Harafin finished nullifying the latest shadeleech attack. Then he conjured a wave of flaming darts to pelt across the enemy lines. It did little real harm, but distracted them for a second while he completed preparations on a much more complex spell.

There. He grinned. Time to end this.

Looking to the sky, he breathed a word of power and threw most of his remaining energy up toward the clouds.

# # #

“What is that?” Ceren gasped, her voice squeaking with fear.

A blond-furred halimaw fell from the sky and slammed into the ground twenty paces downslope before tumbling toward the river. For a second it looked like it would roll right into the raging waters, but its impossibly muscled arms dug its curved claws into the ground. They gouged deep furrows and slowed its headlong rush just short of the bank.

The monster turned and fastened amber eyes on them. It opened its long snout and roared, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

An arrow slammed into the center of its chest.

“That’ll teach it,” Adalia said with a satisfied smile. The smile faded when the halimaw rose to its full twelve-foot height and yanked the arrow out of its fur.

“We be in trouble,” Adalia decided, but even as she spoke, she drew another arrow, nocked it, and took aim.

The monster lunged onto all four legs and charged, tearing at the earth in its hunger to reach them.

Ceren raised her sword, but her hand shook with terror. It wasn't fair! She hadn’t just survived death by makrasha to die by this horror.

Adalia let fly the second arrow and caught the monster in the face, just missing an eye. The shaft grazed its skull, leaving a thin crimson gash.

“By Jagen, that ain’t right,” Adalia cried, already drawing another arrow.

The monster barreled toward them, its terrifying gaze fixed on Adalia’s tiny form. Unfazed, she nocked the third arrow.

“See how ye like this,” she snarled, drawing the bow with a rock-steady hand. She would get only one more shot.

Nikias arrived first.

In a blur of blue flame, he intercepted the monster and slashed its torso with the burning silvery blades of his staff.

The monster skidded to a halt and grasped at the puny human, but Nikias danced aside and slashed again, shouting like a lunatic. His blades sliced across the monster’s arms, cutting its thick hide but not penetrating the dense muscle beneath. Fire raced along the blades but seemed to have no effect on it.

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The monster lunged at him again, but again he danced aside, twirling behind the beast and stabbing at its back, again just scraping through the tough hide. The monster spun after him, but he dodged its grasping claws, slashing again.

Ceren watched in amazement as the two lunged and ducked, slashed and clawed, spun and dodged in a deadly dance punctuated by the beast’s frustrated roar and Nikias’ incessant whooping yells.

Then Nikias misjudged a dodge and one huge, furry arm clobbered him in the side of the head. He tumbled to the ground, and the monster pounced. Ceren gasped with a spike of fear, but an arrow slammed into the base of its throat, punctured the softer skin of the neck, and sank several inches into the flesh.

The beast grunted, clutching at its neck, and tore the arrow free. It turned back to Nikias, but the young Bladestaff bearer was already back on his feet, striking a gallant pose and grinning like a fool.

“Turn off the fire,” Adalia shouted as she drew another arrow. “It be distracting me.”

Nikias dodged the monster again and spared a glance at Adalia. “But the fire’s the best part.”

Adalia stared, mouth agape. With a scowl, she shouted, “Be ye daft, man? If’n what yer doin’ don’t help, get rid of it.”

Nikias slashed again, looking a little crestfallen. The fire winked out. The monster lunged, its dozen bleeding wounds not slowing it.

Nikias whirled closer, and for a second it looked like the monster was going to encircle him in its crushing arms. Nikias slashed a blade across its throat before ducking and rolling under its arms. It opened its mouth wide and roared.

“Perfect,” Adalia whispered.

Her next arrow shot into the beast’s mouth and buried itself in the soft tissue at the back of its throat. The monster gagged and staggered, tearing at the shaft with its claws. Another arrow punched through a huge, amber eye. The monster clutched at its wounded face, roaring in agony.

“For King and the Lady Jagen,” Nikias shouted.

Moving around the monster, he hacked with both blades of the Bladestaff, twirling the weapon so fast it blurred into a silvery cloud.

Fur exploded from the halimaw’s body and drifted around the combatants. Strips of muscle and flesh shredded from its limbs and torso. Blood fountained from a hundred wounds as Nikias carved the beast from neck to thigh, peeling it layer by layer to the core.

It convulsed in agony and tried to swipe at him, but the wounds were beginning to slow it, and Nikias had found his rhythm. It staggered as Nikias carved through its bulk. It shrank in size as its flesh billowed away in crimson clouds.

Ceren gagged and wanted to turn away from the grisly sight, but could not. Nikias drove one blade of his weapon up through the monster’s bare midsection, plunging it deep and sinking half the length of the wooden shaft up under its ribs to pierce the heart.

Blood sprayed from the monster’s mouth as it convulsed a final time. Then it toppled, a ruined shadow of its former terrifying might.

Nikias withdrew the Bladestaff and stood panting, his face drenched with sweat and covered with gore.

“Wow,” Ceren said, glancing at Indira, who nodded and said, “the way is clear. I have to reach the wounded.”

“Nice blade work at the end,” Adalia said.

Nikias beamed and made an extravagant bow. “Thank you, my beautiful young archer!”

“Took long enough,” she said, and turned to follow Indira and Ceren toward the bridge and the ranks of wounded. Ceren bit back a chuckle at Nikias’ crestfallen expression.

The young hero shrugged, grinned, and let out another wild cry. Turning back to the main conflict, he rushed toward the fighting.

# # #

The lowering clouds above the valley roiled as if shaken by a giant hand. Half a dozen jagged bolts of lightning ripped the air, striking around the three shadeleeches confronting Harafin. Thunder pealed in an overwhelming rumble that shook men and monsters alike to the ground and reverberated off the cliffs.

Leander shook his head to clear the after-effects of the blasts. Leading the charge, he’d been closest to the shadeleeches when the lightning struck. A makrasha groaned nearby, and he dispatched it with a blow to the head.

The shadeleeches were simply obliterated. The surviving makrasha howled in fear as the men charged in to finish the fight, some shouting Harafin's name as they brought the monsters down. Harafin joined Leander a moment later.

“You always finish things with a flair,” Leander said with a weary chuckle. “Had you waited a few seconds, you would have blasted me to the eternities with them.”

“Trust me.”

Leander laughed, and pulled himself onto an available horse.

“We must help Rhisart," Harafin said as he also mounted.

“Jerrik, Drystan,” Leander called. “Wrap this up and join us when you’re done.” The two captains saluted and turned back to the last pocket of fighting.

“I’m at eleven,” Jerrik’s voice drifted back to Leander.

“Same,” Drystan replied.

“We’d better hurry then,” Jerrik said, “before there’s none left.”

# # #

Wayra banged the heel of her hand against one side of her head, trying to stop the ringing. Debris covered the courtyard inside the wall, and a thick haze of dust choked her lungs. All along the still-standing sections of wall, the fighting had resumed. The defenders, led by two kestrels, were about to be overrun.

We’re out of time.

She turned to Rhisart. She’d managed to impale the halimaw as it fell, but hadn’t managed to cushion Rhisart’s fall. One leg was badly broken, and his chest had been ripped open by the monster’s claws. She laid a hand on his pallid face, searching for the spark of life.

She felt a distant glimmer, but it disappeared before she could fan it back to strength.

Rhisart, Gerent of Il’Aicharen, was dead.

She prepared to compress his heart with her power. At times that had been proven successful in reviving the recently deceased. She paused with her will gathered, struck by a new realization.

As Rhisart’s second, she was the new gerent.

She ruled Il’Aicharen.

She turned from the fallen man, filled with an exultant feeling of triumph. She ruled! It was a bitter irony that her keep was on the point of destruction.

Then she gasped, eyes wide, as power thundered into her. The ecstasy of it stunned her for several heartbeats, and she threw back her head and moaned with pleasure.

This feeling was everything she had ever dreamed. Her senses extended, sliding along every surface, from the wall to the still-standing buildings, and on to the passages into the mountain. Her soul became linked with the keep.

You are my second.

Rhisart’s words resonated in her mind and she laughed, finally understanding what that meant. The keep’s vast defenses were hers to command. She spun to focus on the breached wall and the enemy she sensed approaching.

A shadeleech stepped through the haze. He stood average height, and dust dulled his crimson robes. He met her gaze, and even imbued with all the power of the keep, she shuddered at the roiling blackness covering his eyes.

Tanathos! It had to be.

He snarled and raised a hand.

I am ready.

With a single thought, she unleashed a blast of raw power.

She was stronger than she thought. The wave of magic struck Tanathos, shattered his shields, and catapulted him backward, high over the wall. He tumbled out of view, leaving behind a vile curse.

Wayra laughed, then headed up onto the wall. With her newly acquired powers, she would eliminate Tanathos and destroy his army. She would not allow these invaders to tarnish this first day of her rule.