Page 349 of Burn of the Everflame

The gryvern swooped low, unleashing a plume of fire that sliced through the center of the field. His slaughter was ruthlessly indifferent, setting Ophiucae’s army and ours ablaze in equal numbers. Our soldiers began to panic and flee for the forest. Xipherus swung north, cutting off their retreat with another fiery burst. He did the same on the eastern front, then headed west to pin the armies inside a wall of flames.

“I have to get to the ballista,” I said, pulling my shortswords.

“If you go out there alone, you’re not going to make it,” Symond warned.

“If I don’t take the gryvern down now, he’s going to burn every person on that field.”

“Then I suppose I can’t let you go alone.” He glanced at my shortswords. “Loan me one of those?”

I hesitated. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I dishonored my Queen once before. I won’t do it again by running away.”

“Do you have any magic left?”

“No,” he admitted. “But neither did your Queen.” He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I suppose I have to honor them both. Now give me a blade before I get bored and find something more interesting to do.”

I handed him a shortsword. “Do you know how to use it?”

“Swing it around and pray it hits something?”

“More or less.” I glanced at the other Centenaries and pointed toward the forest. “Get inside the tree line. Stay out of sight.”

The Centenaries ignored my order. They ran past me and scattered, searching nearby corpses for weapons.

“We’re coming with you,” one shouted.

“You’ll need all of us to get through,” another said.

“We act as one,” a woman said. “That’s what we agreed.”

The other nodded. Drusila alone hesitated, glancing back toward Lumnos.

“Drusila,” Symond said, “if you wish to go back . . .”

She shook her head. “Centenaries do not whine, Symond. We don’t flee, either. We honor our Queen.”

He would not argue that. Their night-black eyes turned to me, awaiting my command.

And so, fighting in the name of two very different women, I set off with the Centenaries to join the battle. Though I had no magic left to offer, I whispered two prayers—one to Blessed Mother Lumnos, and another to Blessed Umbros, beseeching him to guide his people’s blades. When I managed to summon a weak burst of shadow, enough to open a break in the fiery wall around the fighting, my heart swelled at my prayers being answered—only to shatter as two Centenaries were killed within seconds.

“Keep pushing,” I shouted. “And keep swinging!”

The fighting blurred in the darkness, occasionally lit by white-hot explosions as Xipherus roared overhead. Screams rose around us as soldiers burned, smoke filling my lungs with every breath. Fear began to grow that the ballista would go up in flames before I reached it.

Symond took a dagger to the ribs and hit his knees. I forced myself to leave him behind, knowing that if I failed, his sacrifice would be for nothing—but moments later, he reappeared at my side, wincing and holding his wound.

Emboldened by his courage, I pushed myself harder, hacking through what felt like endless streams of black-charred bodies. In the murky light of night, I couldn’t be sure that only enemy soldiers fell beneath my blade. I had to reach that ballista, whatever the cost.

The Centenaries’ numbers dwindled fast. I shouted orders as we advanced, reminding them of all they fought for. By the time the ballista’s large wooden structure finally came into view, only a few remained.

“Alixe,” Cordellia shouted, spotting me across the din. “The gryvern—we have to stop him.”

“I know,” I yelled back. I pointed to the ballista. “Can you fire it?”

“If you can shield me,” she said.

I shook my head. “No magic left. We have to risk it.”