Page 31 of Of Scale and Blood

I gathered every ounce of inner strength I had, then raised a hand and cast a thick stream of fire toward the long line of semiconstructed catapults. My flames were so damn hot, their color was violet blue rather than my normal yellow red, and they instantly crisped any Mareritt foolish enough to not dive out of their way. They hit the first machine, spread across its frame, and, with a satisfying whoosh, the whole thing went up. I directed the flames on, leaping them from one machine to the next, feeding more and more energy into my fire to ensure it remained at its hottest, and the machines went up the instant flame caressed their wooden bones.

Pain pulsed through my brain, and the mote in my eye popped, pouring blood over my lashes. I ignored it, pushing on, until every single machine was burning beyond repair.

Now, Kaia. Now.

With a mighty roar, she dropped through the remnants of the fog, her murderous claws stretched out in front of her as she soared only yards above my head. The Mareritt shouted and pointed; some aimed crossbows while others raised heavy throwing spears. I flicked my flames toward the latter, and though they no longer held the heat to cinder in an instant, they still set hair and skin alight, and, more importantly, destroyed their weapons.

Kaia dropped lower, the force of each wing sweep sending dirt, ash, and men flying. Her claws raked everything before her, scooping up man and machine as one; she swiftly squashed then released the shattered remnants before scooping up the next lot. As she reached the end of the valley and swung around for her next run, I called for Desta, then scrambled to the side of the building and jumped down. My fingers briefly brushed the ground as I steadied myself, then I thrust up and on. Heard footsteps coming in fast from the back of the building. I drew my sword but didn’t stop or attack. If I got too bogged down with fighting, I would die. There were simply too many of them, even if Kaia was killing them off by the dozens.

An arrow shot past me—a blur of air I felt more than saw—followed by a soft thump. Damon, once again proving how skilled an archer he was.

I continued on, down the slope and over the stream. Two Mareritt appeared out of the smoke to my right, one far closer than the other. I drew my knife and flung it hard at the nearest warrior. As he batted it away with a sneer, I lunged in low and swung at his thigh, the sword slicing through muscle, bone, and veins with equal ease. It didn’t completely sever it as my Ithican blade would have, but there couldn’t have been much holding it on, either. He didn’t seem to care; he simply roared and swung his weapon. I countered, the heavy clash of steel against stone ringing out across the haze of noise surrounding us, my arms quivering with the sheer damn weight of his blow. I swore at him, and he laughed, an anticipatory sound if ever I’d heard one.

Laugh at this, you freak, I thought, and flicked a thin lance of fire at his face. He instinctively jerked back, and I swept my sword around and down, completely severing his wrist. His hand and sword fell, but he somehow caught the latter with his left hand. He didn’t attack. He was mortally wounded, and we both knew it. Instead, he raised the bloody blade to his forehead, an acknowledgement of my successful ploy, then cut his own throat. For the Mareritt, there was no shame in taking one’s own life. They believed it to be a far more honorable death than allowing an enemy to claim victory over them.

I scooped up my knife and ran on, but the second warrior was closing in, his gaze a weight I could feel on my back. I tried to increase my speed, but I was running on empty, strength wise, even if I wasn’t yet totally flamed out. Something sharp hit the bottom half of my leg and I staggered for several steps before catching my balance and running on.

But I was hobbling now, and there was warmth spilling into my boot and weakness washing through me.

Movement, directly ahead. Damon, standing tall, bow nocked and aimed. Heard, internally rather than physically, his order to dart left and immediately complied. An arrow shot past me and thwacked into the warrior behind me. He dropped. I hobbled on up the rock-strewn slope, following the line of the barrier that no longer existed.

Behind me, chaos ensued. Kaia continued her sweeping runs, destroying everything she could get her claws on. Another arrow shot past me, but this time, there was no sound of it thudding into flesh, but rather the soft clang of metal against stone. A miss. I swung around, sword raised. Saw two Mareritt coming in at speed, heard Damon’s internal shout to go right, and again obeyed without thought. The nearest warrior followed my movement and attacked, swinging his heavy blade at my head. I raised mine, catching and deflecting the blow, the force of it shuddering through my entire being. Even if I had been at full strength, the likelihood of me beating this particular warrior would have been low. He was too big, too strong, too damn fast. I sucked in a breath and unleashed what remained of my fire. It wasn’t hot enough to melt his blade or even ignite his leathers, but it certainly consumed the exposed parts of his flesh, burning through his eyes and into his brain. The man was dead before he even hit the ground.

Pain exploded through me, and I dropped to my knees, somehow managing to sheathe my weapons before cradling my head in my hands and rocking lightly back and forth. Fresh blood ran down my cheek, and consciousness faded in and out. But I couldn’t let go. Not here. Not now. Not until we were back behind the safety of Esan’s black walls.

Somewhere ahead of me, Kaia bellowed, a furious sound of intent.I come, I save.

Somehow, I forced my head up. Saw, through a bloody veil, a full host of Mareritt racing toward us. Felt the ground under my knees begin to shake, heard the sharp retort of hooves striking stone. Then my squad swept past me and thundered down the hill toward the Mareritt. Desta stopped beside me, snorting softly, the scent of her sweat lightly stinging the air.

I patted her velvety nose, then asked her to move forward and grabbed the stirrup, using it to help drag myself upright. The white-hot heat that shot through my body had nothing to with flame, but rather the agony now radiating from my leg. Warmth continued to flood down the inside of my trousers and fill my boot, and sweat broke out across my brow. As the world briefly spun, my knees threatened to give way and I wobbled, but a hand caught my arm, holding me, steadying me.

“How badly are you hurt?” Damon asked curtly.

“It’s just a cut. Nothing to?—”

“Of course there’s not,” he cut in angrily. “Nothing aside from the fact your face is as white as the ghost fronds, and you can barely even stand.”

“I’m fine, really.” I glanced past him; my vision briefly faded in and out before focusing. The squad were wheeling back toward us, the Mareritt in brief retreat. It wouldn’t last. It never lasted. “And you can berate me later. Right now, we need to mount up and get out of here.”

“You’ll bleed out long before we reach Esan, Bryn. Call in Kaia and let her fly you out of here.”

“Damon, it can be bandaged?—”

“Bryn, I can see bone. How the fuck you were even walking, let alone running, I’ll never know.”

Listen,Kaia growled.No bleed out.

I ignored her. “I’m the captain of this squad—I can’t just up and leave in the midst of a battle.”

“Kerryn’s a capable second, is he not?”

“Yes, but?—”

“Look, I admire your determination to stay and lead, but remember, you promised not to get dead. I’m going to hold you to that damn promise, even if it means I have to tie you up so Kaia can sweep in and grab you.”

Like this plan.

Obviously, I was never going to win this particular battle. And in truth, they were both right, even if I didn’t want to admit it. “Fine. We’ll do this your way.”

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