Rey whirled just in time to duck beneath the swinging greataxe. A match to Rey’s own size, the warrior’s red beard glinted in Sunnvald’s glorious Rise. Bringing his blade up to parry a bone-rattling blow, Rey was forced to relent his galdur. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he dove not a heartbeat too soon as another warrior swung from behind.
“Give up and you’ll keep all your parts,” spat the man. “Or keep on, and you’ll leave in pieces.”
Rolling to his feet, Rey widened his stance, the warriors advancing on him. “Give up and I won’t use you as firewood.” He wouldn’t allow them to know that he couldn’t maintain swordplay and his galdur simultaneously.
Rey had learned long ago to steel himself against emotions in battle.The hothead was more apt to lose his head,as Kraki liked to say. And so Rey found that cold place within and became the ruthless warrior he needed to be. Lunging at the red-bearded warrior with a burst of aggression, Rey caught him off guard. As he parried, Rey’s blade was sent flying to the ground, but it was no matter. Rey grabbed him by the collar and pressed his sizzling palm to the warrior’s face, his grip unrelenting as the man’s flesh turned as red as his beard.
A blade sung through the air, and Rey released the man’s collar, ducking low just in time. The warrior’s greataxe collided with the red-bearded man’s shoulder, leather splitting as the blade sank right through.
Yanking the greataxe free, Rey swung it overhead, burying it deep in an advancing opponent’s neck. The last warrior, having lost his weapon, tackled him to the ground. It was not a pretty fight. There were no handsome swings of the blade, nor fancy footwork. This was a struggle—a fight to the death. The warrior had enormous fists that returned Rey’s own blows in equal measure. As his opponent’s fist crashed into his nose, Rey pressed his still-hot hands onto the man’s face, finding the soft curves of his eyeballs and pushing into them.
The warrior screamed, bucking like a wild animal and sending Rey flying. But it was enough. The man’s sight had been compromised. Breathing hard and trying to regain his senses, Rey scrambled to his feet. Unsheathing his dagger, he dispatched the writhing warrior. But pain speared suddenly from the back of his neck. Shock was chased quickly by fear, then relief. Had it been a longbow’s arrow, he’d be dead.
Distantly aware of yet more approaching warriors, Rey yanked the arrow out and examined the strange, pointed tip. This was no arrow—it was a skarpling’s quill. Most alarmingly, with each passing breath, the heart of his magic grew increasingly quiet until at last he could sense it no more. Rey clutched at his chest, at the hollow place where his source should lie. This was different from being drained. Rather than being empty, it was simply notthere.
What had they done to him?
Rey fought his panic as more warriors swarmed at him from all corners of the burial grounds. He tried to assess, tried to find that cold, unfeeling place, but Rey was unsettled by the absence of his galdur. Battle cries surrounded him, and he retrieved his sword, bracing himself for impact…an impact that never came.
He watched in disbelief as one charging warrior veered unexpectedly to the side, crashing into his comrades and landing hard. A wound opened in the man’s throat, blood arcing through the air and staining the snow crimson.
“Runný,” he exhaled. “Thank the gods.” Just then, Vig hurtled from his periphery, his bare arms swinging a greataxe through the air and hacking through the man from shoulder to hip. Before he’d tumbled to the ground, Vig was already cutting down another Wolf Feeder.
“Seems you cannot stay out of trouble,” yelled Vig, a broad smile on his blood-flecked face as he struck down another Wolf Feeder.
“My life was quite in order untilsheshowed up,” muttered Rey, charging at a warrior who swung at Vig’s back, slashing into his neck. “Trouble stalks her like a jilted lover.”
“’Twas too quiet around these parts anyway,” Vig replied, ducking an incoming blade while chopping the man down at the knees. “Needed a good fight toliven things up.”
“Don’t let them prick you,” yelled Rey. “Their arrows quell galdur.”
The world became a blur of blades as Rey fought side by side with the Shadow Hound and Blade Breaker. Red sprayed across the snow as he edged toward the trees where Silla took cover. It seemed each warrior he felled was instantly replaced by another.
“She’s in the woods,” came a man’s voice, chased by a Silla’s scream. Rey’s stomach clenched. Too many times had he failed her—today would not be another. With a ragged cry, he forced his way toward the woods.
“Get her!” someone yelled. “Someone get her!”
“Archers!” someone else bellowed.
“No,” Rey grunted, shoving his shoulder into a man’s gut and sending him stumbling backward. He could not fail, not again?—
Pain exploded from the back of his skull, consuming his entire world.
Life throbbed backto Rey with every excruciating pound of his heart. He blinked and blinked again. Prone on his back, snow melted through his armor. Cold steel pressed into his throat—three warriors glaring down at him.
His vision warped, the men above him shifting. One turned, calling out over his shoulder. “We’ve got your man, love. Put that away and we won’t hurt him.”
Put what away?Rey wanted to ask, but his tongue felt too large for his mouth.
A male roar filled the air, growing higher and higher until it reached a shrill pitch. It was not the sound of victory, but a sound of agony.
“Release him,” snarled Silla, “and I’ll let you live.”
Rey expected laughter, perhaps a patronizing grin. Instead, the warrior flinched.
“Shoot her!” he bellowed.
Everything happened so quickly he could not make sense of it—footfalls and grunts, a warrior’s terrified cry. Something heavy fell onto his chest, punching the air from Rey’s lungs. And he found himself staring into the blank eyes of a man’s severed head.
