Page 63 of Heart of the Shadow King

Then she lunges, curled fingers reaching to tear out my eyes.

26

VOR

I duck, roll, still clutching the broken hilt of my club in one hand. The unicorn roars past me in a storm of flame, its knife-like hooves missing my head by inches.

Virmaer!Of course, the Licornyn are armed withvirmaerblades, which are capable of cutting through not only trolde weapons and armor but trolde hides as well. I find my feet and whirl to face the rider just as he turns his mount’s head about. The man’s eyes blaze bright with hellfire, reflecting the fire which swaths the beast. The two are made one in that flame, a single deadly enemy. And I am unmounted. Weaponless.

A thrum of energy quickens my senses.

I turn, eyes sharpening. A ripple in the fabric of worlds moves in the air above the dead giant. I know what it means. Even as the Licornyn urges his mount into another charge, I hurl the broken club to one side and run for that head as fast as my feet will carry me. Flames billow past my back. I leap.“Knar, to me!”I cry. The muscles in my legs coil, and I propel myself from the giant’s brow straight up into empty air.

My morleth bursts through a tear in reality, a black cloud of sulfur, snorting sparks. I catch his saddle, pull myself into the seat as the beast carries me into the sky. Below me, the Licornyn bellows, enraged, his unicorn tearing at the air with its forelegs, incapable of aerial pursuit.

A blast of agonized mage-light erupts on my left. I turn in time to see a rip open in the ward-wall. Whatever counter magic Ruvaen’s forces have been hurling at the Miphates’s spell has finally paid off. A stream of Noxaurian berserkers press through the narrow gap, killing each other in their mad need to reach their enemy. For a moment it looks as though their own dead bodies will block the rift, giving the Miphates time to reinforce the magic. Instead, they tear the gap wider, and a wave of ravening lunatics spills forth. Black poison drips from their eyes, mouths, and nostrils.

“Breach!” I cry, signaling to the nearest of myortolarok.They’ve brought down a second giant and speed back to the compromised gate. The Miphates scramble to shore up the damage done by the cyclops’s war hammer, but now they face the onrush ofvirulium-maddened warriors. Before the Noxaurians reach the gap, morleth descend on them from above. Stone clubs smash skulls and send howling bodies flying. The berserkers are no match for trolde warriors.

I guide Knar in a slow turn, stealing a moment to catch my breath as I take in the field below. “Welcome back, stupid beast,” I growl. “Enjoyed your nap?” Knar puffs, and smoke coils from his nostrils.

“Trolde!”

I shift my gaze down to where the giant’s body lies sprawled. The Licornyn has ridden his mount up on the hill of the giant’s back and shakes his fire-wreathed blade at me in defiance. “Come back and face me! Or do you fear to fight on level ground?”

Time to rid the field of this menace.

Spurring Knar, I descend in a streak of shadow. I am still unarmed, but my sword protrudes from the giant’s eye. Leaning far to one side, I stretch out my arm and take hold of the hilt as my morleth sweeps by. The Licornyn springs his attack. For a moment, my vision is filled with red, raging flame. His sword falls in a deadly arc. This time when I raise my defense, a blade of living black diamond meets hisvirmaersteel. Our weapons crash; a shudder ripples up my enemy’s arm. Our faces are close, our eyes locked. A momentary flicker of doubt flashes in his gaze.

Heaving hard, I throw him off me even as Knar lunges with his great fangs, going for the unicorn’s throat. The fiery beast dances lightly out of reach, but I drive Knar in close again. Confident now that my sword will hold up, I go on the offensive, raining down a series of devastating blows. The Licornyn defends well but is unprepared for the full force of a trolde warrior. The fifth time our weapons crash, he is nearly unseated. Teeth flashing, he angles the unicorn away, putting some distance between us before turning for another charge. His advantage is in the light quickness of his maneuvers; he knows he cannot best me with brute strength.

All around us, the field before the citadel wall fills with bloodshed. Many breaches weaken the ward now, new ones opening more quickly than the Miphates can reinforce the spell. Noxaurians rush through only to be met by the crushing clubs of myortolarok.The ground is slick with poison-blackened berserker blood. Ruvaen may have the numbers, but we will carry this night. I am more certain of it by the moment.

As though struck by the same realization, the Licornyn roars in savage rage before hurtling toward me again. His unicorn’s head is down, its blazing horn aimed straight at Knar’s breast. I yank on the reins and spur Knar back to the air. He gathers himself, leaps, sailing over the unicorn in a neat arc. Just as we reach the apex, his body shudders beneath me. He utters a sound I’ve never heard from a morleth’s throat, a hideous, rasping squeal. Flames spurt on either side of us, heating through my armor.

Then we crash to earth. Tumbling, rolling. My helmet is knocked away. Were it not for my trolde bones, my neck would snap, and my skeleton would be pulverized to dust.

We come to a stop at last. I lie on my back, staring up at a distant, magic-riven sky, churning in a storm overhead. Something heavy crushes me. Black, solid, hot. A foul stench of burnt flesh fills my nostrils, sharp enough to make me gasp. My battered brain fights to comprehend what has just happened, fights to understand. Because this body on top of me . . . it’s Knar. My wounded morleth did not simply flash out of existence, waiting to be called back again. He’s dead. Heavy, solid. And dead.

Blood pools around me, black and steaming, eating away at my armor. I struggle to get my arms under the morleth’s body, to push him off and free myself. What kind of sorcery is this? Morleth are beings unbound by physical confines. He should not be trapped in this form, should not be able to die.

The weight increases suddenly. The flame-wrapped figure of the Licornyn looms over me. He’s dismounted and stands with his feet planted on Knar’s carcass, his sword upraised. Would he stab me as I lie pinned? Fury rushes through my limbs in white-hot heat. My arms heave, rolling Knar’s body, knocking the Licornyn off balance. He jumps back as I rise to my feet, towering over him, my face and armor blackened with morleth blood. I have no sword; it doesn’t matter. I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands.

The Licornyn sees death in my gaze. He retreats, avoiding my lunging arms, then moves to reclaim his unicorn, which stands close by. Before he can catch the reins, darkness sweeps overhead. He ducks, narrowly avoiding a braining from the swinging club of anortolarok.His unicorn is not so lucky.The blow hits it hard across the side of the head. The beast lets out a shriek and flies through the air as though it weighs no more than a dream. It lands heavily, however, delicate limbs flailing, cloven hooves tearing at the air.

“Elydark!” the Licornyn cries and takes three lunging steps. Before he can take a fourth, a flash of silver falls between him and his beast: a delicate net of woven spell-craft, one of a dozen Mage Artoris gave me and my people for this purpose.“The threads are woven from fibers of thechaerorablossom,”he told us,“which is toxic to unicorn magic. It is the only means of defense we have against the damned beasts, but it works—if you can get close enough to use it.”

The silvery weave settles across the unicorn’s head, shoulders, flanks, soft as a cloud, fine as mist. The instant it touches that flaming flesh, the unicorn’s fire goes out, snuffed like a moonfire candle. That body, which had burned red with flame, collapses in a black, smoldering pile.

The Licornyn screams wordlessly. His own fire flares and goes out in the same instant as the unicorn’s. He lunges forward, hands outstretched to tear that netting free, but all life seems to go out from his body. He staggers, crashes to his knees, falls on his face.

Morleth riders close in, dismounting and rushing to secure the unicorn. I move to help, but a Noxuarian berserker charges me, slavering with bloodthirst. I raise my blade, warding off his erratic attack with ease. In three simple maneuvers, I run him through, leave him gasping out his last breath on the ground.

A scream. Short, sharp. Abruptly cut off.

I whirl from my enemy in time to see one of my own warriors fall. Three of them had dismounted and surrounded the unicorn, working to secure the binding spell to ensure the unicorn did not escape. The nearest of them did not see the Licornyn’s approach. He had fallen, after all, collapsed, broken, the fire gone out from his body. He was done for.

Only now he stands over the body of the trolde warrior whose neck he snapped in a single, swift movement.

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