Darish started circling Pyetar at her side, forcing him to turn to keep his back protected. Iryana felt the panic rising. It was a tactic they used on the dakii to split up a pack.
“Pyetar,” she called, a slight keen of panic threading her voice.
“I know.” His voice was strained, and she knew he would fight his hardest to stay by her side.
A few more soldiers joined Karvek and Darish. Then she couldn’t see Pyetar anymore, not able to take her eyes off the soldier in front of her. The sounds of him fighting grew further away.
Iryana swung her spear out wildly, forcing her enemies to back out of the way and giving her a moment to look for Pyetar. He was still fighting, holding off a couple of soldiers, but he was too far for her to get to.
When she looked back, a sword was sweeping up from the spot Dinhal had just been in.
She knocked the blade aside, realizing her uncle had been separated from her too.
As she locked blades again, this time it was Karvek staring at her over the forgings.
Iryana dropped her hold on her magic, just for a moment, just long enough for his sword to pass through the spot hers had been in, and then she thrust her spear toward him.
She grazed his shoulder, and he grunted. It didn’t faze him though; he launched a wild series of attacks, forcing her to retreat until they were against the wall of the estate.
Even in a fight where she should have had more advantage with her longer reach, Karvek was more than keeping up with her. She didn’t let him get close enough to attack her, but he blocked each of her attacks just the same. It was a struggle to keep him from closing the distance between them.
When Iryana managed a glance at Pyetar and Dinhal, they were fighting off even more soldiers, a barrier of Karvek’s people seeming to block them in.
Where were their soldiers? Where were the Kleesolds?
Iryana didn’t have time to figure it out, because Karvek’s sword was cutting down toward her right side. She blocked him barely, attempting to throw his sword off.
She had sparred with plenty of other forged soldiers, but two metal-forged weapons locked together had a distinct feel, unlike anything else.
Karvek’s forging against her own didn’t feel right.
Something was wrong.
Iryana gasped, eyes flickering up to Karvek.
Her magic struggled to stay stabilized, and she grunted as she pushed all her effort into keeping her forging solid. But when she wavered, Karvek didn’t miss his opening.
With one smooth move, Karvek cut straight down over her spear.
It was like a shock wave traveled through her. The pull on her magic grew impossibly strong, pulling and pulling until itsnapped.
Iryana screamed, losing hold of her spear as the weakened magic returned to her.
“What did you do?” she demanded, scrambling back.
She’d never seen a metal-forging do that to another.
She tried to form another forging, but she couldn’t summon more than a flicker of her spear, the efforts driving a rock into her skull with every attempt.
Karvek just laughed, swinging his sword around to force her back.
She could grab the steel falchion sheathed at her side, but it would never stand up to the strength of Karvek’s forgings.
It was time.
“Now!” Iryana threw her hand out to the side.
There was a beat before she felt something materialize in her palm, her fingers reflexively closing around it. Her anger surged higher.
