“We work together,” hissed Rey from beside her, smoke and embers building around him. But they were thin, so transparent compared to the maelstrom from earlier—it seemed Rey, too, was drained. “Force these kuntas to show themselves, then take them out.”
Rey pushed out a thin wall of smoke, which billowed around several charging forms. Lunging at the nearest, Silla hacked through bone and flesh withher sword of light. An animalistic howl tore through the air, the scent of rotten eggs swarming up her nostrils.
“What is that smell?” Mýr choked out.
“It’s coming fromthem,” Erik muttered.
But the scent triggered a memory…words from a woman long dead. The vial Skraeda had held—the one Silla had smashed against the wall. It had the same sulfurous smell as these men.
I am told there are tiny living things in this liquid,Skraeda had told her. You will ingest them and host them while they feast on your galdur, acquiring it in their bodies. Once they have gorged themselves and created more tiny spawn, I will take them from you, bring them into my own body, and your magic will become my own.
“Míkrób,” she murmured. It had to be.
Silla tried to gather herself, but her sword flickered, then sputtered out entirely.
The Klaernar charged at them, a flurry of snarls and howls as they collided with the Galdra. Beside her, Rey grunted, his left leg collapsing beneath him. His arms were wrenched back, hands forced behind him. Whirling, Silla pulled everything she had, only managing a clumsy orb of light. With a grunt, she flung it, ducking as an invisible Klaernar’s blade swung just over her head. As her light collided with him, Rey’s attacker yowled in pain. Twitching, Rey grabbed his opponent’s iron shirt, plunging a hevrít into his neck.
A tiny arrow zipped beside her ear.
“Galdur-quelling arrows!” she shouted.
Rey’s body flew sideways, and he landed with a hard grunt. Before Silla could try for another orb, an invisible foe’s fist collided hard with her jaw. She fell onto her back, her skull exploding with white-hot pain as her assailant clambered atop her with a growl. The berserker’s frantic movements only fueled her panic higher, and Silla expressed all that she could manage—another clumsy orb. It was weak, so faint, yet as it crashed into the Klaernar above her, it danced along his skin, revealing his wild-eyed form. He grunted and pawed at the light, trying rid himself of it, but it was in vain. The Klaernar’s eyes widened as he choked, the tip of a dagger protruding from his neck.
Runný’s form shimmered for the briefest of seconds before an invisible hand wrenched Silla to her feet. “Thank you,” she whispered, taking in the bizarre scene before her—Rey and Kálf wrestling invisible foes, Mýr yanking a skarpling quill from her neck.
Kálf’s head snapped back, a quill embedding in his shoulder. His flame whip extinguished, and he shouted inalarm.
Silla cursed under her breath, trying to count. Silla, Rey and Runný against…she could not say how many Klaernar remained.
Rey took a brutal blow that snapped his head back, and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Animalistic sounds shook the air, Rey’s left leg collapsing once more. Were they targeting it? A red haze clouded Silla’s vision.
“Leave him alone!” she screamed, springing toward them.
Air hissed beside her ear, a longbow’s arrow thunking into the snowbank beyond.
Silla whirled to find Jonas, a second arrow nocked and aimed directly at her. Suddenly, he lurched sideways, rolling with an invisible assailant. But taking a swift, brutal punch, Runný’s form shimmered back into view. Eyes closed, her head lolled to the side, but she was still breathing.
A Klaernar barreled at her, and Silla dodged the man’s lethal blow. From the corner of her eye, she tracked Rey. Wrestling with his invisible opponent, Rey tried to express with his bare hand, while grappling with the man—men?—with his other. With a shout, Rey crashed his head into what must have been the man’s face—a wet crack preceded a hot spray of blood. Rey could finally express, smashing his red-hot fist through chain mail and flesh—straight into his assailant’s torso.
But then it happened. A quill sank into Rey’s neck. The smoke rising from his hand vanished in an instant. Rey bellowed a loud curse, and Silla’s stomach lurched. His galdur was snuffed out.
“Move, and I’ll end him,” growled Jonas, another longbow’s arrow nocked and pointed directly at Rey.
Blood thundered in Silla’s ears, blocking all else out. They were surrounded…doomed…the barest trickle left in the heart of her magic. The twang of a bow drew a scream from deep within her, but Rey twisted a Klaernar corpse, using him as a shield.
Pain blazed through Silla as the broad side of a sword came down on her wrist. Quicker than she could react, her galdur collapsed, her arms wrenched behind her back. Her assailant twisted her arms upward, tendons popping, pain lashing sharp and hot until Silla screamed.
The scent of leather and iron surrounded her, driving her anger to new heights.
“Curls,” drawled Jonas, pulling her arm tightly until it felt as though her bone might snap. “My, you’ve learned some new tricks. But it seems you’ve still got the same weakness.”
She struggled against him, disgust curling in her gut. “Don’t touch me, you kunta.”
Jonas grunted, stumbling to the side. His grip on her loosened, and Silla wrenched free, lunging for a hevrít laying nearby. “Axe Eyes,” Jonas growled, pulling Rey’s obsidian-hilted dagger from his thigh and tossing it aside.
Whirling, Silla advanced on Jonas.
From the edge of her vision, Rey’s chin snapped up as he took a punch from an invisible adversary, and she realized he must have left himself open as he’d thrown that dagger. His body crashed sideways as if he’d been tackled. There were too many of them…and he couldn’t see them…couldn’t use his galdur…
