Saran’s heel caught on a body. He fell backwards, helmet and sword shuddering free as he hit the ground.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Viktor reclaimed his claymore. He set the point against the prince’s chest.

“Your head will burn with the rest of you,” he said. “We’re not barbarians.”

“No,” spat Saran. “You’re a monster, a herald of the Dark.”

“Only today,” said Viktor wearily. “Tomorrow, I’ll be a man once more.”

He tightened his grip on the blade, bracing for the thrust that would take the prince’s life.

The northern skies exploded in fire and song.

Thirty-Nine

Thirty-Nine

“A shanael Brigantim!”

The battle cry rose out of song, its harsh notes riding high over steel and strife.

And everything changed.

Revekah vied shield-to-shield with an Immortal half her age. She felt the man’s desperate blows grow strong as confidence returned. She saw a kraikon seize to a sudden, impossible halt.

Then came the pale-witches. Horned steeds darted nimbly through the melee. Moonlight spears gleamed in their hands. Each slash or stab was answered by a scream and a spray of blood. And then the newcomers were behind the line of shields. The slaughter began.

“Raven’s Eyes!”

Revekah rammed her shoulder against her shield. Her thrust bit through scale and flesh, and she kicked the body away.

Tarn ran past, his eyes wide with terror and his shield abandoned. Revekah dragged him to a halt. “Pull yourself together, lad!”

“What for?” he demanded. “It’s lost!”

Militia shoved and clawed at one another in their hurry to flee.

“Shield ring!” Revekah bellowed. “Shield ring!”

A handful of voices took up the cry. Most kept running. Some westward to the distant shelter of the redoubts. Others fled south, and the hoped-for safety of the trees. Of Akadra, Revekah saw no sign. A battle in the balance only moments before had blossomed to bitter defeat.

Revekah stared bleakly at the handful of faces who’d heeded her cry. First Zanya. Now this. It was all happening again, and she was helpless to prevent it. The witches were everywhere. The Immortals came forward anew.

To stay was to die.

“Go!” she shoved Tarn. “All of you! Get out of here!”

With heavy heart, Revekah joined the rout.

Warned by his shadow’s scream, Viktor threw himself aside. White fire cleaved the space he’d occupied a heartbeat before. It whirled about, driving him back from Saran’s prone form.

“You will not take my father!”

Desperation tinged the woman’s voice. Determination gave her blows shattering force. Viktor’s claymore shuddered beneath each parry. His shadow curled deep in his soul, away from the blinding flame.

She spurred close. Viktor struck her lunge aside. Sparks flared. Molten metal splashed at his skin and hissed against his surcoat.