43

South of the Eastmaw Mountains

WINTER FELT THE ROAR almost before it began. She looked for the source, and quickly found it near the rihnemin, where the Khalic officers were now stationed after pushing the tiellan forces back.

One of the officers, Winter could not tell who, had thrown his head back to make the sound. The man’s eyes glowed red, sending twin beams of crimson light up into the dark, stormy sky. The battle around her paused for a moment, while all faces turned to see what was happening.

Then, the Daemon appeared. Winter knew instinctively that it was a Daemon; she suddenly worried for the Rangers she had ordered to guard Ghian, but there was nothing she could do for them now. She glanced around quickly for Ghian, but he was nowhere in sight.

With a guttural howl, a soldier charged Winter, axe swinging.

The soldier wasn’t Khalic or Cantic, however. He was a tiellan, eyes glowing deep red.

Winter brought her sword up, sliding one hand onto the blade to block the axe strike, but the force of the blow sent vibrations of pain through her body, amplifying the throbbing in her skull. Her injured shoulder screamed in agony at the strain.

The tiellan man raised the axe to strike again, and Winter rolled out of the way just in time. She leapt to her feet and stabbed the man in the back. She withdrew her sword as the man turned with a growl, eyes still glowing. With a cry, Winter swung her blade deep into the man’s neck, and he fell.

Breathing heavily, she looked around to see the red-eyed bloodlust spreading around her. Tiellans and humans alike turned on their allies. This battle was no longer about the tiellan movement. It was not about the Khalic government. It was suddenly, and only, about survival.

Winter and Urstadt rallied as many of their tiellan forces as they could. They had to keep together if they wanted to survive. She couldn’t see Gord or Eranda. She had lost track of them in the initial charge.

They were all right. They had to be.

“What is this madness?” Urstadt panted, knocking out a red-eyed tiellan with her sword hilt as he plunged a dagger uselessly towards her. “Why have our fighters turned on us?”

“That Daemon is the cause. We must fight our way to Carrieri!” Winter shouted back. “We have to ally with him to defeat the creature.”

The Rangers who were not affected pulled closer as she spoke. Her heart leapt to see Selldor, Gord, and Eranda were in the small band. They charged toward the rihnemin as one. The Khalic soldiers in front of them were half-distracted by their own berserkers, and Winter’s organized group smashed into them. Just as they were about to break through, a group of human soldiers, some red-eyed, some not, struck their flank. One man set his glowing red eyes on Winter and charged at her. Winter dodged the first swing of the man’s axe, and parried the next as best she could, but he was strong. Another berserker came at her from the side. She could only dodge and parry as the two maddened, red-eyed men attacked her at once. Her small force was likely to be overwhelmed.

The exhaustion that had been tugging at the back of Winter’s mind since the battle began set in deep. Her limbs burned as she maneuvered for her life, barely escaping one man’s axe, only to parry the other’s sword with a glancing blow that set her hands, arms, and entire body vibrating. She could not keep this up much longer. Sooner or later—

Winter slipped, one leg giving out beneath her. She fell to one knee, and the berserker with the sword swung down. Winter lifted her own to parry, but she was not quick enough. She deflected the blow from her face and torso, but the sword cut deep into her arm. Winter dropped to the ground, avoiding the berserker’s kick, only to find herself looking straight up at an axe coming towards her.

With a scream, someone blurred into the axe-wielding berserker just in time, sending him off balance. Winter thought it was Urstadt at first, but as she struggled to her feet, she saw it was Eranda.

Before Winter could even scream, the man with the sword turned and swung with such force that his blade buried itself between Eranda’s neck and shoulder, biting deep into her back. He kicked Eranda, freeing his sword. She fell to the ground, and both berserkers turned to face Winter.

Urstadt swept in between Winter and the berserkers. In all her training, in all Winter’s time with Urstadt on the battlefield, she had never seen the warrior move so quickly. Her glaive cut, slashed, and stabbed, until both berserkers bled out onto the rain-soaked muddy ground.

Winter ran to Eranda’s body. Her oldest remaining friend lay still and face down in the mud.

Urstadt grabbed her shoulder roughly.

“I have to—”

“Do not let your emotions control you,” Urstadt growled. Above them, lightning split the sky, and thunder rolled.

“Let go of me!”

“You know what we must do, Winter.”

Winter stared at Eranda’s body. Urstadt was right. Eranda was gone. The Daemon was here.

And, she realized, a strange glimmer catching her eye, something else was here too. Shimmering shapes in the sky above her.

Winter’s heart sank. She had seen those shapes before, in the imperial palace in Izet. She knew what came from them. Without frost, none of them stood a chance.

Her gaze lingered on Eranda for a moment longer, then she turned and stalked the rest of the way to Carrieri, the Daemon, and the end of this conflict, as Outsiders began to drop to the ground around her.