I twisted my head to see Nikella a few yards away, her bloodied spear held firmly in her hands.
Renwell let out a coarse chuckle. “You’re welcome to try, Nik. But I have a feeling that even with all your warrior training, you still can’t defeat me.” He twirled his glittering black sword for emphasis. “I have conquered everything I set out to. Just as I said I would, all those years ago.”
“That proves nothing. Having more power doesn’t make you right. It makes you more responsible for defeating the evil in this world. Which you have not.” Nikella’s voice softened, as if she were instructing a young one. “You will lose that power, same as those you took it from.”
An ugly expression twisted Renwell’s face, and his boot pressed harder into my chest. I swallowed a whimper of pain and tried to shove him off. To no avail.
“I will lose nothing,” he hissed, his gaze fixed on Nikella. “I have taken over an entire kingdom. I have built ships that can defeat any that sail.” He spread his arms wide. “I have stolen power from the gods themselves by taking control of their precious fireseeds and sunstone. Their power is nowmine.”
My mouth fell open. His normally pale face was flushed. Spit flecked his beard from his harsh words. I’d never seen him so impassioned. Nor so careless.
Silver streaked over my body. Renwell twisted away with a snarl, lifting his boot. I scuttled backward. Nikella’s spear clattered to the ground behind him.
Renwell grunted, putting a hand to his side. His leather glove came away wet.
Nikella gripped my arm and hauled me to my feet. She held a short dagger in her free hand.
Renwell’s eyes burned with malevolence. “Naughty little Nik.”
Nikella stiffened as if she’d been struck. Her scarred face blanched.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he continued in the same vicious voice. “Now you’ll finally get what’s been coming to you all these years.”
My eyes darted about, frantically searching for a weapon nearby. But instead of attacking, Renwell slowly retreated to the shadows he’d emerged from.
“I’ll see you soon, Kiera,” he called out, then disappeared.
Nikella and I remained stone-still for several moments. He didn’t return. Slowly, my wounds started announcing themselves all over my body.
I groaned softly, then realized Nikella was still clutching my arm. Her body hadn’t shifted out of its fighting stance, as if she were locked in a battle I couldn’t see.
“You can let go now, Nikella,” I told her softly.
Her chin jerked toward me, and her eyes cleared. She released me immediately. “Are you harmed?”
I gestured to my bloody cheek with a grimace. “Other than my pride, not mortally.”
Suddenly, I remembered. “Yarina!” I gasped and rushed over to where she lay amid an overturned crate of pumpkins.
Her chest rose and fell steadily. I breathed a sigh of relief, then pressed my finger to her neck. A strong, steady beat met my touch.
“Thank the Four,” I murmured.
I smoothed away her disheveled braids and folded a discarded cape under her head.
“More coming.” Nikella’s terse voice came from behind me.
I twisted around to see she’d retrieved her spear and was now guarding us against a storm of hoofbeats coming from the south. I seized the nearest weapon—one of Yarina’s scythes.
A group of a dozen Dag warriors rushed into the square, axes and swords flashing molten orange in the firelight. Their clothing was like the Yargoths and Urzosts but stitched in whites and grays.
“The Berengar Clan,” Nikella murmured to me, lowering her spear.
Their leader, a woman with a longer braid than Nikella, rode up to us. “Good to see you again, Teacher. We were out hunting when we heard the distress horns. Where is the enemy?”
“We’ve routed them from the village back to their ship. Our warriors fight on the riverbank.” Nikella pointed toward the street that ran east out of the square, as yet free of rubble. “That way should be clear.”
The woman nodded and rode forward, her warriors on her heels. Perhaps they would cut down a fleeing Renwell on their way.
