He seized the spear, rolled to one side very quickly, and barely dodged the scythe that plunged down at him from the vord now mounting the wall beside his opponent. Scuttling like a limping crab, Ehren stayed beneath the vord warrior, grasping the spear and once more reaching out for his woodcrafting, until he had bent its shaft into a quivering bow that would have enclosed most of a circle. Then he took a second to decide where to strike and how to aim, grounded the spear’s butt against the stone of the wall, and released the woodcrafting.

The spear straightened again, with vicious energy. The sharp tip of the weapon skittered along the vord’s armored underbelly—but then the tip bit into the joint between two plates of chitin and plunged into the vord with such force that it lifted its forequarters off the ground. Dirty green-brown blood geysered from the wound, and the vord fell off on the Aleran side of the wall, thrashing in its death throes.

Ehren let out a whoop—but it turned into a scream as something that felt red-hot slammed into his lower back. There was a thumping sound, and his body jerked, and a muscle behind his right shoulder blade went into a sudden, vicious cramp. He tried to move, but something held him fast to the ground. It might have been gravity. He felt very heavy.

He looked over his shoulder, itself an agonizing motion, and saw that the next vord up the wall had leapt onto him as its less fortunate relative fell to the ground. He couldn’t see the scythes or where they had pierced him. Thinking about it, he decided, he really didn’t want to. The pain was bad enough. He didn’t need a visual image to go with it.

He couldn’t breathe. He just wanted to take a good, deep breath. But he couldn’t inhale at all. That didn’t seem fair. He laid his cheek on the stone.

There was a bright light, and something warm passed over him, and a vord shrieked.

“Healer!” bellowed Gram.

Ehren blinked open his eyes and looked to the south. There, hovering in the air, was a single brilliant spark of bright red fire.

“No, you idiot, don’t pull them out of him,” Gram snarled at someone. “He’ll bleed out right here.”

“But they’ve got him spiked to the bloody wall,” protested someone with a deep, resonant voice.

“Use your head for something besides finding things to smash with that maul, Frederick,” Gram answered. “Earthcraft the wall enough to get them loose.”

“Oh. Right. Just a second...”

Gram was leaning over him, and there were legionares back on the wall around them. They must have closed the breach. That was good. Ehren lifted his hand. It shook more than it should have, he thought. “Gram,” he gasped, pointing. “Signal.”