ESSA
There were no words, now. No strategy. There was only the flow and flash of battle, the next enemy in front of us, the sting of pain, and the exaltation of landing a blow.
Othura’s tail whipped a Lacuna off his horse.
The arc of my sword brought down a bat-like golena.
A blast of Othura’s wind breath toppled a knight of a noble house, sending him to the ground in a crash of armor.
And still they kept coming, more and more of them, like angry bugs welling up from an anthill.
Amongst the slashing blades and clacking teeth, commoners ran and cowered, some trying to flee, some trying in vain to defend themselves, others desperately trying to hide amid the rubble.
Now, I caught sight of a pair of them, a teenage couple with rags for clothes, running while a pack of golena dogs chased after them.
There! I told Othura.
I see them, she said. With a single flap of her wings and a blast of wind we were there, hitting the ground in front of those deformed dogs—no, wolves, for they were huge.
They scattered, but a second later, their pack reformed and they leapt at us, snarling.
Othura caught one in her jaws and dispatched it with a crunch.
A second one leaped over her wing and lunged for my head.
My blade bit into its clay flesh, nearly taking off its foreleg.
Still, it landed ahead of me on Othura’s back and scrambled toward me along her spine.
Fear almost made my heart seize up in my chest, but I reared back, shouting in fury, and brought my sword down in a massive overhead stroke.
Having two hands would have been better than one with such a blow, but after years of training, my left arm was strong.
The blade cleaved the thing’s head an instant before its jaws would have clamped onto my face.
Its head fell apart, one burning red eye falling to my left, the other to the right, and the monster’s body slid off Othura’s shoulders to hit the ground with a sickening thump.
“Look,” a familiar voice to my left drew my attention.
Lure sat astride Axjan, their purple aran dragon. Blood spattered the smooth, caramel skin of Lure’s face, but a dark glee gleamed in their eyes—the same transcendent, almost ecstatic look Lure always got in a battle, for Lure had always been a prodigy among the Skrathan—one of the best of us.
Now, their sword blade pointed upward, toward Charcain.
I followed the gesture and saw two figures on a balcony about halfway up the citadel’s highest tower.
One had flowing black hair and wore dark robes.
The other was a heavy-built, bearded man of about fifty in a regal red cloak.
Prelate Kortoi and Lord Natath, head of the Noble Council.
Now. We could fly up there now. Kill them both—something I should have done long ago. One snap of Othura’s jaws, one jab from my sword, and we could end this.
Yes! Othura said in my mind, and she crouched, ready to take flight.
But at that moment, a shrill scream pierced the air behind me.
I turned to see a little boy, six or seven years old, from the look of him.
A golena in the shape of a boar had grabbed hold of his arm and was yanking, dragging him toward a pack of other monsters, horrors with mismatched animal heads and bodies, their glowing eyes menacing as they encircled the child.
I looked up to the balcony once more with ferocious longing. Kortoi was pointing down at us. Natath was shaking his head. Together, they stepped away from the edge of the balcony.
Essa? Othura prompted.
I knew what she was thinking. They were getting away. We had to fly. And yet, my attention turned back to the little boy. He was looking at me now, dark hair falling into a face pale with fear. His blue eyes—dark blue, like Charlie’s—were full of terror and pleading.
I looked to my comrades to see who else might be able to help the boy. But on the far side of the courtyard, I saw that my Skrathan had breached the haphazard wall our enemies had built to entrap us.
“This way! Hurry!” Pocha was shouting as our little army—and many of the commoners who’d been trapped inside as human shields—streamed out the breach.
Pocha was wise to order a retreat. We were outnumbered, outmatched, and in a poor position. It was time to flee. Lure was over there, too, covering their retreat. I was alone.
I glanced up to the balcony once more. Kortoi and Natath were nearly to the doors.
A moment more and they’d be inside Charcain, out of my grasp.
I also became aware of enemies surrounding me.
A dozen Lacunae galloped toward me from my left.
A score of them from my right. Winged golenae circled me overhead. I had to move. Now. Fast.
Behind me, the boy squealed again. The boar beast had released his arm, which was now bloody, but more monsters had come to encircle him. They crept closer with the slow steps of predators as tears streamed down the poor boy’s face. And something inside me cracked.
“Foolish. Stupid,” I chided myself as I wheeled Othura around.
There was no need to tell Othura the decision I’d made; she already knew, leaping and swooping toward the little boy.
She landed between him and the nearest golana and blasted the monster with wind so hard that it flew backwards, smashed into a pile of rubble, and disintegrated.
I unclipped my right hand from the saddle and slid off Othura’s back, my sword whistling through the air as I cut more golanae down, stroke by stroke, advancing toward the boy.
One monster bit my ankle before I stabbed its eye out and killed it.
Another clawed my left ear, leaving it stinging and bloody, before I hacked off its talon.
The world melted into a blur of battle fury—thumping heart and flexing limb and righteous rage and sweat.
When at last I paused to catch my breath, a score of golenae were heaped on the ground around me, dead.
A ring of Lacunae encircled me, their lances pointed toward my face.
Othura lay a dozen yards away, held fast in a dragon-catching net and encircled by what had to be a hundred golenae and knights.
The little boy I’d saved was clinging to my leg, hugging me and crying. I touched a hand to his head, tousling his hair.
I looked up to the balcony. Kortoi and Natath were gone.
“Benin!” a woman called. She stood perhaps forty yards away, standing on a mound of rubble with her hands cupped to her mouth.
The boy saw her and squealed, “Mama!”
He released my leg and ran through the ranks of men toward his mother.
My heart swelled with relief with each step he took.
Then, one of the void knights stepped into his path.
The boy skidded to a halt in front of him and the knight, with horrible casualness, swung his metal gauntleted fist and clanked the boy in the head, knocking him to the earth.
The mother and I screamed at once, a terrible harmony.
We both rushed forward, trying to make our way to the child.
The boy lay still. Dead, I thought with horror.
Then he gave a low wail and rolled onto his side.
He wiped his nose with a filthy sleeve, which came away bloody.
I felt rage growing in me like a dragon rising from its den.
“You cunts! You cowards! I’ll kill every one of you!” I shouted. “Every. Last. One.”
The mother was fighting, trying to get to her son, but other commoners were holding her back, whispering desperately for her to calm down. At the same time, the Lacuna who’d belted the boy drew his sword.
“NO!” I shouted.
He cocked back, blade poised, ready to stab the child.
I reached out with my hand, summoning the power of my dragon stone.
A blast of wind struck the knight, causing him to stumble—giving the boy just enough time to scramble to his feet and sprint to his mother.
She caught him in her arms and the two rushed away, disappearing into the crowd.
The knight, steady on his feet now, turned and began striding toward me. Though no face was visible behind the visor of his helmet, I could feel malice and anger radiating from him.
I should have run, but I was surrounded by at least a hundred knights and just as many golena, along with a thicket of lances and swords. The men and monsters parted as the knight strode toward me until we were toe-to-toe.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, prick?” I said—which was ironic, since I had to tilt my head back to look up at his expressionless black visor.
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the knight said.
The last thing I saw was his black gauntleted fist speeding toward my face.