Page 45 of The Serpent’s Shadow

The Huscarl was shocked to see me—a half-elf—fighting for the elves. It gave me a moment to draw in close.

But then he was moving away, southward with the others—toward the largest congregation of enemies.

There must have been thirty of the bastards here, in this invasion. They swarmed Corym’s right-hand man.

Logaithn swung, dismembered a Huscarl’s arm from his body, and left him screaming and writhing in pain, spurting blood as he fell to the ground to clutch at his vacated limb.

Two others closed in and stabbed Logaithn, managing to slow his twirling dance of death with his two blades.

The elf looked at me, determination and grit in his eyes as he staggered—

And an axe fell from behind him and beheaded the elven soldier.

I screamed, pulled back, and ran off toward Corym before I could see the aftermath of that head flying through the air and thudding to the ground.

“Deitryce!” Corym called to his sister, who was not in my view amid the high torches of the blazing tents.

Huscarls were starting to notice me, converging from every direction as I ran with my tiny hatchet.

“Fuck!” I yelled.

“It’s the bog-blood, over there!” one of them called out, drawing more attention to my silver, black-streaked hair.

“Grab her!” yelled another.

I avoided the hands of one man who came barreling out of a tent that still stood, hands at his unclasped belt. Behind him in the tent, I noted the wailing of an elven woman inside, trying to pull her clothes back on.

Bastards!

When his hands reached for me, I chopped the axe down and took his left hand off at the wrist.

The man howled, stumbled, spraying blood.

I kept moving toward Corym, who was a flash of silver and gold.

In the distance, at the back of camp under an open-faced awning, Deitryce stood with two of the elders and a few other members of the sixteen Ljosalfar who had come here. The thirdelder was dead on the ground in front of them, arrows sticking up out of his back.

The elves stood in a box-like formation, back-to-back in the squat, open-faced longhouse, and waited for Corym to get to them at a sprint.

Behind them, or ratheraroundthem, the air shimmered like a mirage in the desert. I noticed a sphere of magical energy surrounding them, staying, blipping in and out of existence.

My mouth fell open as I got closer to Corym, now less than twenty paces away.

“Brother!” Deitryce yelled at him as he rounded a squat wooden structure on fire. Her arm stretched out and she made a come-hither motion with her fingers, trying to draw him closer—though she didn’t move from her spot.

I realized what was happening.

They’re in the portal, waiting for Corym before they activate it!

“Come on! Faster!” Deitryce cried out.

Corym glanced behind him. He saw me . . .

And stuttered to a slower pace. Behind me, over my shoulder, was the army of Huscarl invaders pillaging their way through camp. Chasing me and the elven leader.

Our eyes locked. Corym’s went wide with disbelief, sadness, and hurt.

Then he locked his jaw and grabbed his sword tighter. He made it to Deitryce.

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