Page 214 of The Black Witch

I flinch back as another knife collides against the shield in a shower of ice crystals, its terrifying point piercing the ice.

Two men burst from the wilds. They’re large men, all in shadows, black-garbed with dark fabric wrapped around their heads and faces. They raise curved swords marked with glowing gold runes as they run toward us. Two large shapes explode from the woods on either side of them and take flight with compact wings that send air currents down with powerful, rhythmic whooshes.

Dragons!

But like no dragons I’ve ever seen before—they’re the size of large dogs, boxy and muscular, one black, one red.

The runic light from Fallon’s clothing reflects off the collective riot of weapons, teeth, claws and wild eyes all hurtling straight for us.

A black terror swamps over me, and I frantically pull at the laces of my frozen boot with shaking hands.

Everything descends into chaos.

Fallon’s guards frantically yell to each other as streaks of their wand fire spear through the air with staccato bursts of golden light. Fallon hurls out javelins of ice toward the assassins and the dragons, the spears scything straight through her ice shield as if it were mere air.

Breathless, I cower near the ground.

Fallon’s guard runs toward the men and the dragons, wands raised as they continue to throw lines of fire out that are easily deflected by the assassins’ curved swords. The black dragon swoops down and collides with one of our soldiers. I gasp in horror as the beast latches onto his throat and the soldier sends up a gurgling scream. Another soldier thrusts his sword into the beast’s neck, the creature sending up a jagged shriek before slumping to the ground.

The red dragon crashes into our shield with an earsplitting shatter, the dome cracking apart. Ice rains down on us in a shower of frigid, clinking shards as the beast thumps down beside us, red-scaled belly up, eyes rolled back.

I pull hard at my foot, dizzy with fear. My boot lace is hopelessly knotted, the boot solidly frozen to the ground. The dragon’s warmth courses over me in a wave and melts the ice near my toes, but it’s not enough to free me.

Clutching her chest and propped up on her side, Fallon breathlessly grinds out a spell and points her wand at the dragon with a shaking hand, just as the creature begins to snarl and right itself. A line of ice knifes out from the tip of Fallon’s wand and into the dragon.

The dragon freezes then wobbles, Fallon’s spear of ice stabbed right between its eyes. The beast falls to the ground with a dullthump.

It’s impossible not to be wildly impressed—she just killed a dragon with a huge knife sticking out of her side.

I duck as a glowing red orb whirs by overhead, along with stray wand fire, the orb exploding behind me into a circle of red flame that briefly turns everything in the world crimson.

Fallon lets out a harsh growl as she throws out a series of ice spears that collide with the assassins in a harmless spray of snow.

“They’re shielded,” she says more to herself than to me, her eyes latched on to the assassins as her guard relentlessly attacks them now with swords. One assassin fights with two guards at once.

Fallon cries out and rolls onto her back as she sends forth a ceiling of ice over the fighting men. She flicks her wand repeatedly, and ice spears rain down from the ice ceiling and impale the assassins’ skulls.

The assassins slump to the ground.

The runes on her clothing still glowing a bright white, Fallon sets her fierce eyes on me, then promptly passes out.

It’s at that moment when my boot finally cracks free of the ice, my ankle twisted and throbbing.

Wincing from the pain, I crawl on my knees toward Fallon. The hilt of the knife juts out mercilessly from her side.

I have no great love for Fallon Bane, but I certainly never wished for her to be this grievously harmed.

Lurching toward her, I grab hold of her arm with a shaking hand. “Fallon, can you hear me?”

Sweet Ancient One, she can’t be dead.

“Get back,” one of her guards orders harshly.

I get up on unsteady legs and stumble backward as he drops to his knees in front of Fallon, soon joined by the other two surviving members of her guard.

I stagger to the ground and reach down to absently massage my pulsing ankle, stunned and shaken.

More soldiers are running up the field, shouting. They’re mostly Gardnerian, but some are clad in the light gray of the Verpacian Guard, one of them Elfhollen. Three Vu Trin, including Kam Vin and Ni Vin, bring up the rear. Ni Vin’s eyes meet mine, her black scarf wrapped tight around the burned half of her head, sword drawn.

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