Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Jumping to my feet, I search Merc out. He’s making a circle and heading for me from the west, as if he intends on picking me up off the ground.
Behind him is an army.
The camouflaged bodies of the ogres ripple over the ground like a heat wave, and there is a sea of them—that are closing the distance.
And that’s when I see the second lot explode out of another chute in the cliffs, the color shift to red happening as they fly off their perches.
I start yelling. It’s a waste of effort, but the rage in me won’t be tempered—and as if I am conducting musicians, I wave my arms wide and then bring them in again, calling the fire to attention.
And command it to do my bidding.
A wall of flames appears in a semicircle, and I hear the screeching on the far side, a couple of the ogres spinning up into the air as they burst into heat and smoke.
But then in horror, I realize what I’ve done. I’m protected. Merc and his steed are shut out—
Like a wraith, he jumps through the line of red fire, his horse’s wild eyes and flaring nostrils nothing I can track, for I only have eyes for him. With his black leather–clad body and his flowing black hair, he is vengeance with that broadsword in his hand, the inferno parting for him only long enough for him to get through before it recloses.
As he and his steed land, he thunders right for me, smoke rising from his surcoat, the backlight of flickering red and roaring heat like he’s come out of the very depths of evil.
And then he thunders past.
Spinning around, I see for the first time the ogre that was coming up on my rear. If there had been so much as a delay of just a moment or two, I would have been dead. But Merc takes care of me. He lets out a battle cry, reins his horse into an interception, and then leans so far out of the saddle to the side that he nearly takes the steed to the ground.
With a fluid stab, he drives the broadsword’s vicious tip into the head of the ogre that’s two lengths away from jumping on top of me.
The creature starts to spin around, faster and faster, tighter and tighter, until it yells in pain and spasms into a contorted, color-changing curl.
Yanking my head over my shoulder, I measure the wall of flames. I still want it to be up, and for no reason that makes any sense, I feel like it will stay there as long as I need it to.
This can’t be happening.
“Thank fates it is,” I hiss as I look around frantically.
Merc is yanking his horse into a circle and doubling back to the dead ogre. As he leans down and puts out his hand, I know he’s going to reclaim his weapon.
Where’s Lavante?
From out of nowhere, I hear a whistle—and then realize I’m making the call sound—
The answering whinny comes from the left, and there my stallion is, careening around a stand of red trees, barreling across the lengths that separate us, leaping over a sprout of flame that I have nothing to do with.
He’s going fast as the wind, the flickering light making his beautiful golden coloring glow like the sunset, his white mane and tail flowing pink from the wall of fire’s unholy illumination. And in spite of the heat and the creatures, he’s coming for me.
I sink down low.
Just as he sets upon me, he digs his hooves into the red dirt and sinks into a halt—and as if we have done the move a thousand times, I leap back into the saddle with perfect coordination, throwing my leg over the packs that are still tied on. The instant my butt lands, I grab fistfuls of that mane, because I know what’s coming.
Just as Merc locks a hold on his broadsword’s hilt and rips it free of the dead ogre, Lavante surges forward with so much power, I feel like I leave a couple of my teeth behind. The stallion is impossibly fast and monstrously strong, his head extending straight out from his surging body, his spine becoming a rope that runs from the tip of his nose to the last strand of his tail.
As if he’d been waiting all along for me to signal for my pickup so he could do his part.
Flattening myself on the side of his neck, trusting him to pilot us through the holes that spit fire, I can only pray that Merc and his steed are staying with us.
That wall of fire can’t last forever—and even if it did, those ogres are smart enough to find a way around the length of it.
We are not safe.
This battle is not over.