Magda screamed and stumbled. The pain quickly turned from sharp to searing, staggering her, but she kept her legs.
Gur roared, barreling out of the sky and onto the stinger-less manticore, tearing into its throat.
Damion and the manticore he’d been fighting were nowhere to be seen.
The last had been stripped of her Elf and was circling, searching for her mistress.
Behind Magda, anoomph.
Twisting, her teeth clenched against the pain, she saw the Elf reappear from the Shadow Realms with Kaelan, his sword at her throat.
“Call them off,” he said to the Elf. His face was pale and sheeted with sweat.
“It’s too late for that,” the Elf said, “Brother.”
The ground quaked. The leaves and needles on the trees trembled.
Kaelan yanked the Elf’s head back. “I’m not your brother.”
“Then why did our father send me to kill you?” she asked through her teeth.
Gur leapt from the fallen manticore and roared at the riderless one, who was side-prancing anxiously, watching Kaelan and the Elf who claimed to be the King’s daughter.
“My name is Ilene,” the Elf went on, “and I believe, based on the slowing rate of your pulse and the clamminess of your skin, that manticore venom is now working its way through you. And so you shall soon be dead, and I will have completed my mission.”
She grabbed Kaelan’s wrist, flipping him over her shoulder and onto his back.
Magda surged forward, leaping over Kaelan. Tucking one leg, she twisted, kicking out. Her heel cracked against Ilene’s temple.
The Elf’s head smacked against the tree behind her. She crumpled to the ground unconscious.
Magda landed, panting and cursing, blood thudding through her, sheeting her throbbing shoulder.
Kaelan rolled over and tried to push up, but collapsed. A bloody wound showed across his back. He had been stung.
The last remaining manticore screamed, rearing up.
Gur lunged, jaw latching around the manticore’s throat, throwing it to the ground.
“Wait!” Magda hollered. “Don’t kill it!”
Damion barreled into the trees, covered in blood, though it didn’t appear to be his.
Gur held the manticore pinned to the ground. It thrashed, tail whipping wildly.
Magda plowed to her knees next to the manticore’s human face, pointing her dragon spear at the creature’s temple.
“Be still,” she ordered.
The manticore’s jaw snapped, but its body settled.
“Is there a cure?” Magda demanded breathlessly.
The manticore laughed, tongue flicking through the spikes of her teeth.
“Tell me.”
“No cure,” the manticore purred, blood bubbling up through her lips.
