Marcus looked back over his shoulder and saw his knights charging after him, their swords flashing in the sunlight. He saw the blood on the horses and the dead on the ground and, most important, from the ridgeline, he heard the blaring of trumpets and the beating of drums. His brother and father could see for themselves now that the enemy was, indeed, upon them. Marcus enjoyed a brief moment of triumph and satisfaction that swiftly evaporated like the morning mist. He could tell by the motions made by the female dragon warriors and the eerie glow starting to shimmer around the fingers of the males that they were arming themselves.

“Fall back!” Marcus yelled, waving his arm. “Fall back!”

Wheeling his horse, he found his way blocked.

A dragon warrior raised glowing hands. The bluish fire of the magic roiled off his fingers. Spinning and twisting, the magic snaked toward Marcus, who had time only to suck in a breath. The blast struck him and his mount like a gust of wind blowing from the mouth of hell.

The horse screamed. Marcus had a sickening sensation of falling and then blackness and pain crashed down on top of him and buried him deep.

Sir Troeven saw the prince go down, and the knight galloped toward Marcus, using a powerful yell and a wave of his hand to direct the other knights, who were closing with him rapidly.

The dragon warriors did not try to stop them, but melted away at their coming. Troeven was feeling good about this until he happened to glance over his shoulder to see the strange warriors flowing in behind them and around them. The warriors had managed to cut off two knights, who had been lagging behind, laughing at the sight of the enemy standing to face them without weapons of any kind. Sir Troeven remembered what Edward had told them about this army and, though he had laughed then (when the king wasn’t paying heed), the knight wasn’t laughing now. These strange warriors might not be holding swords in their hands, but they were armed. He knew that by the confident way they moved and by their calm, implacable expressions and the fact that one of them had felled his prince. He had his sworn duty and he rode on.

Marcus’s horse was dead—that much was obvious—and it had fallen on top of him. Sir Troeven could see the prince’s head and shoulders, arms and torso pinned beneath the large animal. Marcus, encased in armor, lay still and unmoving. Two of the dragon warriors were approaching him.

Sir Troeven received another shock when he saw that one of the two warriors was a woman, young and attractive. He got over his shock quickly enough when he saw the woman reach out her hand toward the prince’s helm, as her male partner looked on.