Page 49 of Claws of Death

One by one, we’re pushing the Flames back. From the end of the corridor, shouts to order speak of the disarray ruling the Flames’ formation. They are losing this fight, and fast.

Fire flares against our shield once more, the impact hard enough to make Herinor stagger, but he holds his ground, one arm wound around the legs of the fairy female he’s carrying over his shoulder, the other arm straining as he holds both the shield and his sword to take down whoever skips through.

Heat blasts my face, singeing the fine hairs in my nose and I pray that the Flames won’t send another onslaught of fire right away. I’ve only recently been a living torch. No need to repeat that experience. The Flame closest to me grins, and I stab without delay. It’s not my most elegant move, but it’s effective: The Flame topples over as I pull my dagger from his chest and crouch down to slice behind his knees. He almost hits me when I hesitate for a moment before leaping out of the way.

We’re making progress. Slow, but progress. Every step forward is a step toward freedom.

Reinforcements are within reach. It can’t be long until the others show up. Kaira must have already informed them of the trap we walked into.

Stab, slash. Stab, slash. Herinor’s shield flickers with each new ball of fire the Flames hurl at it, hissing and steaming at the contact, but it holds. It holds long enough for us to make it to the stairs leading up to the entrance hall.

“When we get out of there, run.” Myron’s voice is full of authority. It’s not a suggestion but an order, and I’m ready to listen for once. “You, too, Herinor. Run.”

Before either of us can object that he’d better run, too, Myron curses and shoves a Flame pushing through the shieldright back into the darkness and over the threshold to Eroth’s Veil. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Promise?” This single word is all I have breath for.

“Promise.” Myron’s response loosens the knot in my chest, sending the concern for my mate to the bottom of my thoughts. He promised. He won’t stay behind.

“Where the fuck are the others?” Herinor is now fighting alongside us up the stairs, grunting under the strain of balancing the shield and carrying the unconscious female. “The moment I spot Clio, I’ll shove that creature into her arms, and she can take her to her brother.”

He sounds like a grump, but I hear the genuine concern for our rescue in his tone.

“They can’t be far,” Myron grits out, pressing his blade against a Flame’s silver sword.

We’ve been fighting for minutes; the noise of our battle can’t go unnoticed.

“Kaira!”I shout in my mind.

No response.

“Kaira, where are you?”

The entrance hall greets us with spacious russet and cream. About five more Flames are fighting, but they are strong and ready. They’ve been waiting for us, preparing to strike the moment we set foot into the room. Walls of fire hit from all sides, heat blasting apart Herinor’s shield. Myron throws his arms around my shoulders, cradling my head against his chest as he shields me from the flames with his own body. I taste iron and salt as I bite my lip at the impact, but the momentary pain is nothing compared to the panic grabbing hold of me. Herinor’s curse echoes through the hallways.

“Fuck the gods! Where are those boasting fairies when you need them?” He means Clio, but the female isn’t there to save the day. Not this time. None of the others are.

The air stills as the Flames wait for their magic to recharge so they can smother us with another blow of power.

Myron nods at me as if expecting me to understand, then at Herinor.

He wants us to run while the Flames are dependent on their blades. The door is about fifteen feet ahead, and the Flames are standing well away from it. If we run, we can make it.

“I’m not leaving y?—”

“Go, Ayna. I can hold them off on my own.” Silver lightning crackles at Myron’s fingertips, and an expression of collected menace graces his features.

It’s that moment that I know he’s right. He can blast those five Flames out of their boots if he wants to—he’s just that powerful—but he’s scared to hurt us with his still uncontrollable magic. So, he wants us out of the way before he brings this estate down for good.

“Now!”

Grabbing my daggers harder, I bolt, darting for the door. Herinor is right beside me, his shield wrapping around us like a shimmering target.

We get close to the doors. Closer. The Flames are coming for us, but we’re faster.

At the last two paces before we would crash into the carved wood of the entrance, Herinor sends out a blast of his own power, dropping the shield to let the shot through.

The door splinters into a million pieces, but I don’t stop. Hands are thrown over my head to shield my face and neck.Myron’s roar is an echo at the back of my mind as we stumble through the door, coughing and panting and featuring an array of scratches along the backs of our hands.

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