Finally, my ears perked up.
Chatter drifted from a valley, so low it barely broke through the pounding of my heart in my ears; I wouldn’t have picked it up before the Undertaking. We came to the top of the sloping hill, peering into the shallow canyon below. Dull light was visible, as if smothered by a fog. They’d set up camp at the bottom of a valley? Unwise.
I stopped, looking up at Cyph beside me. He nodded, lips tight.
The rest of the group fanned out along the ridge. Jezebel fell in on my left, Tolek on her other side. Malakai and Danya took spots beside Cypherion, and the others around them. Twelve of us in all. Less than half of who waited below.
We’d solidified our plan before leaving. We didn’t need to discuss it again. Didn’t want to risk our voices being heard.
But when a wolf howled at our backs, our precautions didn’t matter.
The Engrossian voices silenced. The light through the fog vanished.
“Stay true,” I muttered. Pulling Angelborn from my back. “Now!”
We flew down the hill, forgoing any attempt at silence.
With cries and cheers, our combined force of Mystiques, a Soulguider, and a Bodymelder landed on the Engrossians.
Pale skin and purple scars shone beneath white starlight. With flashes of deep green armor, the scouting party tore from their shadowed cove of a camp. Clashes of blades—axes—struck our menagerie of weapons, but?—
There were only twelve.
Twelve Engrossians, instead of the thirty we’d expected.
An ax swung toward me as I tried again to count the collision of limbs and weapons and armor. I blocked it with Angelborn’s hilt, swiveling beneath the Engrossian’s arm. Quickly, I flipped my weapon, drove it toward his heart?—
He ducked it. Floated like a breath of wind at the last second, in a maneuver so smooth I almost missed it.
I nearly froze.
That move never failed me. And how had he moved so silently?
But I couldn’t stop to consider it, only grip Angelborn tighter and meet another strike. I danced around the valley with this opponent, meeting attacks fiercely.
My chest pounded as an ax lowered toward my neck, and I lifted my spear to stop it at the last second. Sparks shot up between us.
I staggered, my ankle nearly rolling over a rock. Breath tore through my lungs, scraping up my throat as I braced myself against the Engrossian’s weight.
My arms burned as I pushed. And pushed. And pushed.
His face loomed over me, my back bending. His eyes locked on mine—took in their magenta shade?—
“Not so unbeatable now, Alabath.”
Getting my stance beneath me again, I summoned the strength the Undertaking had given me and shoved the Engrossian back, using his weight against him.
Despite his uncanny swiftness, I ducked out of reach of his swinging ax and rammed Angelborn beneath his rib cage, between the buckles of his armor. He screamed with the impact.
“Challenge accepted,” I growled, tugging the spear from his body and shoving him to the ground. He landed with a thud that echoed through my ears.
I spun to see Danya’s and Cypherion’s opponents fall, too. My chest rose and fell, throat raw already, anticipation heavy between my ribs.
Where were the others?
Thirty. We’d prepared for thirty.
“Ophelia!” Tolek yelled.
