Shuddering with disgust, Issari struggled, trying to kick off the witch. But the small, frail woman seemed stronger than a warrior. Issari could barely breathe. The crone's knee drove deeper into her belly, and Issari thought she would split in two, that her every internal organ would shatter. She reached across the floor, pawing for her dagger, but could not feel it.

Shedah raised a third leech and dropped it. It attached itself to Issari's neck. She felt it pulse as it sucked her blood.

"With your blood, I will brew potent potions, yes." Shedah spat. The glob landed on Issari's cheek, sizzling like acid. "They will make me live for many years."

Issari could barely breathe. The crone's hand wrapped around her throat, constricting her. The second wizened hand tore at Issari's tunic, and Shedah placed a new leech upon her; it sucked at the top of her breast. Weakness flowed through Issari, and her head spun. She felt blindly for the dagger, desperate to find it.

I have to stop her. I have to. Or she'll do this to Laira again. Tears budded in Issari's eyes. She did this to my sister so many times. I must stop her.

Her hand connected with something wet and soft—the toppled bucket of leeches, she surmised. Blindly, she grabbed one of the worms.

"Perhaps your father will let me keep you, princess." Shedah grinned her bloody grin. "You will be mine—my giver of life, my toy to torment, my—"

With a choked gasp, Issari thrust up the leech she held.

She slapped it against Shedah's eye.

The worm squirmed, latched onto the eyeball, and began to suck.

The crone screamed.

It was an inhuman sound, the buzz of a thousand insects, the cry of shattering bones and ripping souls, the cry of steam, of cracking wood in fire, or burning men. The witch stumbled back, and Issari gasped for breath and pushed herself to her elbows.

Shedah stood, grabbed the leech with her knobby fingers, and ripped it off. The leech came free with the eyeball still attached, leaving an empty socket.

No. Don't faint. Issari sucked in breath. Fight her.

She spotted her fallen dagger near the bed; it lay among several smashed statuettes. Issari grabbed the hilt, leaped up, and pointed the blade. "Stand back!"

But Shedah, enraged, leaped forward. She rose into the air and hovered for a moment, a creature of blood and rage and drool, more demon than human. Then she plunged down, claws extended, blackened gums bared.

Issari grimaced, blade held before her.

Claws slashed her shoulder.

Issari screamed.

Her blade thrust into the crone, tearing through leathery skin and into crackling, dry flesh.

For a moment Shedah hung upon the blade, suspended in the air like some deformed, bloated sack. Then she crashed down, twisting, writhing, screaming. Smoke rose from her and worms escaped her wound.