many others? Were the rest caught in the skirmish that approached down the smoldering track through the trees?
Marin barely saw the kayal as it dropped from the branches of the pine and came at her with a long, jagged blade .
She hadn’t counted on this one .
9
THE KAYAL attacked Marin with incredible fury .
Its blade sang through the air. She parried and riposted. The thing struck back, hooking her sword, forcing her arm aside. She feinted and gashed her enemy’s sword arm with a twisting lunge. Blade dripping with black blood, she slashed again and lopped off its head .
She turned in a slow circle, calming herself. Five other kayal lay sprawled on the ground. The one that had taken Hiril’s arrow through the head would never move again. Marin quickly dispatched the other four, then headed toward the sounds of fighting .
The smoking branches where the úathir had passed still stank of Maeros’s charred flesh. Marin breathed through her mouth as she watched for signs of friend or foe. The battle sounds seemed to be moving farther north .
Except—
Something ran toward her in the gloom, too light for an unhorsed rider in chain mail, too fast even for Hiril. Marin raised her blade as the kayal appeared. Its blind haste signaled flight rather than attack—until the thing fixed its gaze on her. Even in the dark, its black eyes gleamed red. It raised a jagged blade, swerved and charged. Something about this creature—its scent? its hatred?—told Marin she was confronting the butcher she had tracked from Darós .
The kayal-witch .
And Torre Lavvann would spare it? Not while she faced it here alone!
Marin launched herself at her adversary, slashing deep into itssword arm. But her enemy pushed back with even more fury than the one she’d fought moments earlier. It struck her blade as fast as she could parry. Saving strength while seeking advantage, Marin gave her enemy more ground as it tried to back her into a tree trunk. Her own battle fury gave way to a chill that spread from the pit of her stomach .
She might not survive this fight .
Suddenly two arrows pierced the kayal from behind. With a grunt of shock and the snap of bone, it dropped its sword and fell face down, arrows protruding from its back and the base of its neck .
Marin dropped to her knees and closed her eyes, gasping. Footsteps pounded the forest floor, and she smiled at the welcome clink of chain mail. Someone gripped her shoulders. With a sigh, she dropped her sword and began to tremble .
“It is over,” said Lavvann. Marin looked gratefully up at her captain. “TWO are dead: Jarrle and Sarsca.” His voice was raw with grief. “We will bury them this night.”
“Brave men, both,” said Marin softly. “I will miss them. But… did Hiril Altaïr reach you?” Worry sharpened her voice. “Have you seen him?”
“I am here.” And so he was. Marin was unable to see how Hiril had fared in battle, but his step was heavier, and weariness weighed down his voice. “The rest of your company is running down the last of our enemies. The úathir was gravely wounded and its fire is flickering. It fled, but will not escape.”
“We are in your debt, Hiril,” said Lavvann. “But one more favor, if I may. Please stay with Marin Hanani while she gathers her strength. My duty lies elsewhere.”
“Of course.” Hiril waved a gracious hand. “See to your fallen soldiers.”
Lavvann retreated into the woods, leaving them alone .
Hiril slid his hands under Marin’s arms and lifted her to her feet. “You fight fiercely, Marin Hanani.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
“Have you, now?” A smile lurked in Hiril’s voice .
An ominous gurgle interrupted them. The dying kayal-witch writhed, groping at the arrow in its neck .
Marin stared down at her enemy, grieving for her fallen comrades, sickened by the memory of the slaughtered prince. She kicked the creature onto its back, pushing the arrows deeper into its throat and chest. Its mouth gaped
Marin barely saw the kayal as it dropped from the branches of the pine and came at her with a long, jagged blade .
She hadn’t counted on this one .
9
THE KAYAL attacked Marin with incredible fury .
Its blade sang through the air. She parried and riposted. The thing struck back, hooking her sword, forcing her arm aside. She feinted and gashed her enemy’s sword arm with a twisting lunge. Blade dripping with black blood, she slashed again and lopped off its head .
She turned in a slow circle, calming herself. Five other kayal lay sprawled on the ground. The one that had taken Hiril’s arrow through the head would never move again. Marin quickly dispatched the other four, then headed toward the sounds of fighting .
The smoking branches where the úathir had passed still stank of Maeros’s charred flesh. Marin breathed through her mouth as she watched for signs of friend or foe. The battle sounds seemed to be moving farther north .
Except—
Something ran toward her in the gloom, too light for an unhorsed rider in chain mail, too fast even for Hiril. Marin raised her blade as the kayal appeared. Its blind haste signaled flight rather than attack—until the thing fixed its gaze on her. Even in the dark, its black eyes gleamed red. It raised a jagged blade, swerved and charged. Something about this creature—its scent? its hatred?—told Marin she was confronting the butcher she had tracked from Darós .
The kayal-witch .
And Torre Lavvann would spare it? Not while she faced it here alone!
Marin launched herself at her adversary, slashing deep into itssword arm. But her enemy pushed back with even more fury than the one she’d fought moments earlier. It struck her blade as fast as she could parry. Saving strength while seeking advantage, Marin gave her enemy more ground as it tried to back her into a tree trunk. Her own battle fury gave way to a chill that spread from the pit of her stomach .
She might not survive this fight .
Suddenly two arrows pierced the kayal from behind. With a grunt of shock and the snap of bone, it dropped its sword and fell face down, arrows protruding from its back and the base of its neck .
Marin dropped to her knees and closed her eyes, gasping. Footsteps pounded the forest floor, and she smiled at the welcome clink of chain mail. Someone gripped her shoulders. With a sigh, she dropped her sword and began to tremble .
“It is over,” said Lavvann. Marin looked gratefully up at her captain. “TWO are dead: Jarrle and Sarsca.” His voice was raw with grief. “We will bury them this night.”
“Brave men, both,” said Marin softly. “I will miss them. But… did Hiril Altaïr reach you?” Worry sharpened her voice. “Have you seen him?”
“I am here.” And so he was. Marin was unable to see how Hiril had fared in battle, but his step was heavier, and weariness weighed down his voice. “The rest of your company is running down the last of our enemies. The úathir was gravely wounded and its fire is flickering. It fled, but will not escape.”
“We are in your debt, Hiril,” said Lavvann. “But one more favor, if I may. Please stay with Marin Hanani while she gathers her strength. My duty lies elsewhere.”
“Of course.” Hiril waved a gracious hand. “See to your fallen soldiers.”
Lavvann retreated into the woods, leaving them alone .
Hiril slid his hands under Marin’s arms and lifted her to her feet. “You fight fiercely, Marin Hanani.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
“Have you, now?” A smile lurked in Hiril’s voice .
An ominous gurgle interrupted them. The dying kayal-witch writhed, groping at the arrow in its neck .
Marin stared down at her enemy, grieving for her fallen comrades, sickened by the memory of the slaughtered prince. She kicked the creature onto its back, pushing the arrows deeper into its throat and chest. Its mouth gaped