Page 65 of An Unlikely Knight

Hell itself broke loose.

Eslander warriors charged into battle atop massive aurochs, their colossal mounts moving with terrifying speed. The great beasts plowed through Meliot’s forces, crushing everything in their path. Swords shattered against their thick hides, arrows bouncing harmlessly away.

Padriag fought to keep the bindings around the wizard strong, but he was tiring.

Veylen, the leader of the Esland army burst through the fray, his ice-blue piercing gaze locking onto Padraig. “I brought you a gift.”

Three aurochs were brought forward by Esland warriors. Tristan, Gavin and Niall mounted whilst Liam went to fetch the two in the stables.

With renewed hope, the knights atop the great beasts stormed into the fray.

The hold on Meliot burst and the wizard disappeared.

“Meliot,” Padriag said to Gavin.

“He is weakened and won’t go far,” the Scot replied.

Atop the auroch, Padriag searched among the fighters for the wizard.

The battlefield was a frenzy of clashing steel, screams, and the thunderous pounding of hooves.

But Padraig barely noticed. His focus was on one man.

Meliot.

He turned and looked toward the keep. If the wizard was truly weakened, then he could have sought refuge.

His pulse spiked.

“I’m going after Meliot,” he told Liam.

Liam’s jaw tightened. “Be careful. His magic is still strong.”

Sword in hand, Padraig urged his mount away from the battle to the front of the keep and leapt from the saddle, his feet sure on the scorched ground. He barely paused before striding inside, sword at the ready, his heart hammering.

He spotted Meliot near the remnants of the hearth, his hands raised, lips moving in a frantic whisper. A spell.

“You will never be free.” The wizard called out.

Padraig stepped fully into view, his grip tightening on his sword. “You’re weakened. You can’t flee, can you?”

The warlock’s sneer deepened, his black eyes narrowed. “I remain more powerful than you will ever be.”

With a flick of his wrist, Meliot sent a blast of energy crashing into Padraig, sending him sprawling.

Pain ignited through his ribs, but Padraig fought through it, rolling to his feet. He shot a disc of fire in retaliation. Meliot staggered.

“You’re not so sure anymore, are you?” Padraig taunted.

The warlock’s face twisted in fury. With a sharp motion, Padraig’s sword was yanked from his grasp. It hovered midair—then turned, its deadly tip aimed at him.

Padraig barely had time to curse before the blade shot forward. He dove, hitting the stone floor hard as the sword embedded itself on the wall behind where he’d just stood.

Another blast sent him slamming into the wall. He gasped for breath, struggling to rise.

As the wizard walked closer, Padriag struggled to all fours.

Meliot yanked the sword from the wall and stared down at Padriag. “I won’t grant you last words.” He brought up the sword, but then abruptly stopped. “What do you want?”