Page 163 of Commanding Flame and Shield
One. Two. Three down.
I roared as one dove for my sword hand, fangs just scraping enough flesh to draw streams of red to the surface. Baring my teeth, I lunged forward. Aren bellowed. Lana gave a yelp. I focused on beheading the beast bent on disarming me. Aren’s blade swung down as my own did, and it fell. Pain registered somewhere in the back of my mind, in the wrist it had struck.
No time. Keep moving.
My stomach roiled, as somewhere in the distance someone was yelling to get back in line. If those lines failed, if they buckled, we were all as good as dead. The sheer size of them...But Ansel had all but held the breaking segment himself. If I could just get him back to the front…
Lana and Ansel, both bloodied, drove twin blades up into the ribs of one of the blood wolves with lethal, synchronized precision. With immortal speed, Ansel dropped the beast and loosed two throwing knives into the throats of advancing Renown, already within a body’s length from us. His bandolier was looking thin.
Aware of the same observation, Ansel dove forward, and tore his knives from their flesh as they drowned on their blood.
He spun, extraordinary grace rippling through his muscles, and threw them again. Again, and again, they met their mark. I held his back, deflecting the attackers that came for the old general.
He drew two more blades, eyes on the last of the Renown advancing towards us. Just as a blood wolf collided into him.
The outraged roar in my chest broke into the night, and I dove forward, sword raised.
But the two grappling bodies moved with such speed, I couldn’t swing. Not without risking Ansel.
Ansel’s agonizing scream shredded apart the very fabric of the air. He roared as the beast tore great gouges of flesh from his belly, somehow still throwing the beast from his frame with just enough force for me to lunge forward and bring down the fatal blow.
The beast’s enormous head fell to the earth, maw still open with murderous rage.
Numbly, I turned back as Lana collapsed to her knees by his side. Her beautiful face contorted in a scream I could not hear, braid swinging down with her movement to shield her mate, who writhed in agony against the earth. Her blade clattered against the stone by her knees. She pressed her pale, spindly hands into the impossible wound. Fingers spread wide, as though she could will the flesh to seal back together.
I whirled, just as another beast lunged for the back of my neck. Sword instinctively raised, we collided. The force of the thing took us both to the ground. Wind rushed out of me. Pain rippled. Muscles trembled as I forced air back into my body. Blade pressed against the wolf’s great, fleshy neck, we roared at each other, saliva and hot blood spattering from its maw onto my face.
Then it went limp.
The blood wolf collapsed into me with the bright green fletching of an arrow barely protruding through its eye. It took all my strength to roll the great beast off me. I staggered to my feet, gasping and rasping for air, stumbling to retrieve my sword. When back on two legs, I spotted that eternal pale face and familiar eyes, just long enough for her to know she’d succeeded.
And she was gone. Back into the battle.
I went to move for Aren, but it was redundant. He snapped the beast’s neck with a crack. Its limp body dropped to the ground.
Lana was sobbing, unspeakable agony filling the wails, the sound more horrific than any I had ever heard. She was pulling Ansel’s limp body against her own as she staggered back, out of the fray, retreating towards the wooded wall. Aren was bellowing for a healer, but his voice trailed into the chaos. There would be no healer. I stared down at the bold warrior, and horror settled in my stomach. Blood. Too much blood.
St. Michael, send help.
Alvara was coming, I could feel it in my bones as she sprinted forward. Alec too—his energy just as familiar. Only. Urgent. No trace of that constant calm.
“Hold the line!” I barked at Aren. He gave a quick nod and swung his sword through the air. The motion would be menacing to the enemy, but I knew he was testing his wounded shoulder, as blood poured from the gash from one of the wolves. The bone-chilling screams of great cats tore through the air and my heart sunk. More beasts.
Still, I advanced.
SIXTY-EIGHT
PRAYERS
ALVARA
The killing field had long since descended into a melee, the left flank crumbling entirely after the wolves were released. Hands sticky with drying blood, I knocked an arrow, trying to keep a tally of the precious few I had left, and an eye on the ground for strays.
The twang of Alec's bow, followed by a low, “Fuck,” drew my attention. He’d stayed planted by my side, his face twisted in a snarl, amber eyes dark with his rage. I hadn't realized just how long we’d been on that field until his fingers fell away from his empty quiver. He’d rained down hell for us. Every last arrow with lethal precision.
“To the bitter end.” His voice was hoarse from barking commands, but he threw his arms around me.
“Until we meet again.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then leapt apart to block a blade, and gut the man wielding it. Alec brought his sword down to sever the head as the man fell beneath my blow.
