Blood showers us and the ground, the open wound pulsing. Vicious satisfaction lashes through Anassa.
The rider’s control of his sword wavers as his direwolf’s pain slams into him. I slash in under his guard, scoring a long wound along his side.
He yells in agony and falls back, but another wolf and rider take his place just as quickly.
Izabel appears beside me, and we bear down on the enemy pair together. Our swords flash bright as we maneuver in, trying to land a blow.
The rider is a Daemos I recognize from the Trials, younger than me. His hands come up to throw a blast of Daemos power our way. Izabel and her wolf, Asteio, swerve to the side, escaping the brunt of it.
It hits me and Anassa full on, like a stone wall, harder than should be possible.
But weirdly, it also seems to rebound, as if the power had an equal reflection onto the wielder. It knocks the Daemos boy off his wolf, leaving him sprawling on the ground.
“What was that?” I ask my wolf, muscles screaming as I fight to stay on her back. I’ve never seen power falter in that way.
But we don’t have time to discuss it.
Another Daemos rider has circled around fast. He nearly sideswipes Izabel with his dagger. Then he jumps—ontoIzabel’s wolf behind her.
I look for an opening. Anassa swings us around until we’re right next to Izabel and Asteio—and the Daemos attacker. I lean forward, but he’s too close for me to bring my sword in without injuring Iz. He’s wrapped an arm around her throat, and she can’t get purchase with her sword at that distance.
She coolly whips a dagger from a thigh sheath, even while gasping for breath, and buries it in his leg.
He screams and tips to the side. His weight carries them both to the ground.
I leap down next to them and slash wildly at the man. His neck erupts in a fountain of blood, and the fight goes out of his wolf. They crumple as the life drains from them both. Anassa growls in pleasure at my action, but I can’t feel the same, watching this beautiful creature give up. It’s a sheer waste.
Asteio leans in with a snarl and rips out the Daemos wolf’s throat, her silver-white muzzle drenched in red.
I pant and circle around to anticipate the next attack, but Nevah and Tomison and the rest of the Strategos Bonded have drawn the bulk of the melee away from us.
“Thanks,” Izabel wheezes, rubbing her bruised throat before remounting.
“You’d have had him in pieces in another minute or two,” I reply with a tight smile, trying to cover how much that freaked me out, watching Iz in such a vulnerable position.
Briefly shielded from the fighting, I get a quick glimpse of the battles happening around the arena. My stomach churns. This is all sowrong. This was our moment for unity, and here we are, tearing one another apart.
My gaze drops to the Dire Blade in my hand.
King Cyril used it to control us. Control ourwolves. I saw him do it, saw him create violence with a simple gesture.
I wonder…
“Yes,” Anassa urges from next to me.
“Cover me another minute,” I order Izabel, not waiting to hear her response.
In a queasy blending of past and present, I lift the Dire Blade above my head,just as I saw the dead king do at each of our Trials. I didn’t want it to come to this; wasn’t I just thinking how much our people deserve free will and the ability to make their own choices?
But we can’t turn on one another.
Taking a deep breath, I use both hands to plunge it into the dirt below.
“STOP THIS. LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS.”My mental shout echoes and reverberates along the bond, power rebounding and redoubling until my ears are pounding.
The arena seems to still, sound receding. I can sense the weight of a hundred wolves’ minds as the ancient magic begins to take hold.
It’s working. Thank the goddess. The wolves will stop their riders, will heed the call.
