I heard Patrik cry out my name. “Scarlett, no!”
The Death Claw squirmed as I coiled my arms around its neck and constricted it tighter than a boa snake. I put in all my strength. The world moved around us. It fell off its axis as I struggled with the Death Claw. Up was down, left was right, and—we both slammed into the hard stone pavement of the courtyard.
I gasped and wrestled the Death Claw, despite the burning pain in my right shoulder and upper back. It hissed and growled, desperate to get a bite out of me. With lightning speed, I managed to draw my sword, and rammed it into the creature’s throat. Crimson blood gushed out and poured all over me like a warm glaze.
“Ew!” I groaned. The Death Claw choked on its own gurgling blood, heavy on top of me.
My entire body hurt, but I’d taken the beast down. I couldn’t breathe anymore. I had to get it off me. I pushed, barely managing to lift it a few inches off the ground.
“Good grief, you’re heavy,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
I heard a familiar growl, then felt the Death Claw getting dragged off me. Two pit wolves got busy shredding its throat, and I managed to get back on my feet. Hundurr rushed toward me, nuzzling my face with his giant, bloody head.
I held my breath for a second, quickly checking him for injuries.
“Not your blood. Okay. Proceed, you fantastic mutt!” I chuckled, then gently patted the side of his neck. Hundurr huffed and ran back outside. Judging by the rustling and crackling sounds beyond the walls, there were still hostile pit wolves out there.
Another shriek pierced the sky above. I looked up just in time to see a flaming arrow get lodged in the last living Death Claw’s forehead. I moved back a couple of feet, as the creature came down hard, breaking most of its bones in the impact. It wheezed and groaned, its wings and legs twitching.
I ended its misery with one sword hit, then climbed back onto the northern wall. I’d been so busy trying to stay alive and assessing our combat situation that I didn’t even notice Patrik’s expression until I got back to him.
Patrik’s face was drained of color. He was shaking like a leaf, his lower lip trembling and his eyes wide, as if he’d seen something so horrible that it couldn’t be described with words. He was speechless, staring at me.
“Are you okay?” I asked, wiping some of the Death Claw blood from my chest and neck.
He didn’t say anything for a few moments, making me worry. I moved closer, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. It dawned on me then that I was still covered in blood, and chances were he thought it was mine.
“The blood isn’t mine, don’t worry,” I said, smiling.
Patrik then took me in a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my neck. He shuddered, breathing heavily. I still had trouble figuring out why he’d gotten himself so worked up—until the adrenaline cleared off a bit and it hit me. Kyana.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.
Something wet and warm found my neck. Tears.
“Oh, Patrik,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling horrible for not having thought of it sooner. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I thought it had you.”
I held him tight, trying to find the right words. He knew very well that he couldn’t be angry at me. I’d made an executive decision that I didn’t regret. We were at war. Our lives were bound to be at risk. There was no denying that, and Patrik knew it. But it didn’t stop him from coming undone whenever he saw me in such a tight spot, especially when a Death Claw rammed into me midair. Just over three months ago, he’d buried the love of his life after a war.
He had every reason to fear that history was going to repeat itself, given our circumstances. He was distraught, but he was also underestimating me. I wasn’t Kyana. I was a GASP fighter.
I caressed his face and kissed him, then gave him a soft smile. “I’m okay. I’m okay, Patrik. A Death Claw won’t be the end of me, babe.”
“I know,” he replied with a nod, “but I can’t help it. I got the worst flashbacks. I should be the one apologizing, not you,” he added, regaining his composure. His steely eyes were red, but his gaze and expression were firm.
“How about neither of us apologizes, and we move on, huh?”
He chuckled softly, then put some space between us. We looked around. We’d all made it. The Death Claws, however, had not. Some were collapsed in our courtyard, and the pit wolves were already dragging them out through the back gate. The rest were scattered throughout the woods, several still burning.
Blaze was going to be okay, but he needed a few hours of rest for the healing paste to work its mojo on him. This wasn’t his first dragon-related injury, and something told me it wasn’t going to be his last, either.
“Nice tackle on that Death Claw,” Harper said, from the south wall.
“Tackle and grapple, baby!” I shot back, prompting her to laugh out loud.
Hansa wiped some Death Claw blood off her shoulder, then looked out into the distance. Our enemies were still coming. The persistent beat of their drums was getting louder.
“All right, let’s clean up and get ready for the next wave. This was just a preview of what’s coming, and we all know it,” she muttered.
Patrik caught my hand and squeezed it. He didn’t need to say anything. I knew what he was thinking—the intensity of his gaze and his erratic heartbeat told me more than his words ever could.
“I know,” I told him gently. “And it’s okay. I’d be worried about me, too, if I were you. I took a big risk earlier, and I’m aware of it. But I couldn’t have you get hurt, and I couldn’t let the Death Claw compromise the wall’s structure, either. Not with what’s coming at us in a few hours.”
He nodded slowly. “I agree. Just don’t tell me to toughen up.” He smirked.
“You’re tougher than all of us put together,” I replied. “You reversed your Destroyer form with sheer willpower, remember?”
Patrik sighed, then wiped some of the blood still smearing my face. “You’re a mess.”
“Yeah? Well, you should see the other guy.” I chuckled, pointing at the Death Claw in the courtyard.
Harper
A few hours later, Blaze was back at full strength. Both Ryker and Laughlan had helped speed up the recovery process with a couple of spells. The Imen scoured the fortress for more arrows, but, upon a final count, we discovered we only had about three hundred left.
“This won’t be enough for what’s coming,” Hansa said, frowning.
The sky was beginning to light up, the moons descending into the horizon as dawn gleamed in the east. I, along with the other vampires and Maras in our group, was already covered up, ready for daybreak. Our nerves were stretched. Our stomachs churning.
Daemon mercenaries spread out from the south, and soldiers occupied the western fascia of flatlands. Their boots thundered on the ground. Their war drums were loud, incessantly beating with the sole intent to intimidate us, to put fear in us… to make us lose hope.
They were just a few miles away now, and I could see them clearly with my True Sight. Their armor was thick, their swords broad, and their shields sturdy enough to resist consistent hits. They could still be killed, though. They weren’t unbeatable.
“Death Claws,” I announced, pointing to the south.
Another swarm of winged beasts was coming in, albeit smaller than the previous one. It wasn’t meant to deliver a significant blow. Their sole purpose was to distract us from what the daemons were about to unleash on us. Looking down, I counted eight horrifying contraptions—large wooden crossbows, big enough to launch arrows that were the length of two Zanes. The arrowheads looked heavy and sharp enough to maybe even pierce Blaze’s dragon skin.
“They’ve brought some serious toys,” I added, then looked up at Blaze, who stood in the tower with Caia. “You’d better be careful, Blaze. Those things were made specifically with you in mind.”
“My skin’s pretty thick,” Blaz
e grumbled.
“Don’t risk it, though,” Hansa replied. “Keep your distance. Change your position as often as you can. Don’t let them lock their sights on you.”
Blaze replied with a nod, then slipped out of his pants and burst into full dragon form. He stretched his wings and shuddered briefly before he took flight.
“Be careful!” Caia shouted after him, staying behind in the tower.
“Everyone ready?” Hansa raised her voice.
I briefly glanced around me—we were definitely ready, our team members in their assigned positions, armed and geared up. The Imen held the ground floor with Velnias. The thirty pit wolves we’d rescued, including Hundurr and Rover, left the courtyard and spread around the fortress, hiding below the thick foliage. They were ready for the next wave of hostile, collared pit wolves. I could see and hear them at the base of the mountain.
“We’re ready,” I said, then felt Caspian’s soft nudge. We exchanged glances and instantly knew that, no matter what happened next, we had each other’s backs.
Pheng-Pheng had joined our group, while Arrah stayed with the Imen below. One-third of our rigged mines had been blown by previous attacks, and we had a limited supply of arrows. However, the fortress’s position, along with our Druids, fae, and dragon, was going to help us survive for quite a while. On top of that, we had pit wolves ready to defend us. We were not going down without a fight.
We’re not going down, period.
Blaze roared as he reached the Death Claws and released a curtain of fire.
“I take it he’s still pissed about the eye poke.” Zane smirked.
“Well, the boy’s grudge does come in handy,” Jax replied.
We all stared, watching as Blaze didn’t even give the Death Claws a chance to scatter. He viciously bombarded them with a constant, thick stream of fire, flying in a wide circle around them. He’d learned something from his previous experience for sure—this time, he didn’t let them break formation.
One after another, the Death Claws were burned alive and darted into the ground and the woods covering Ragnar Peak like meteors. They crashed in a hail of flaming flesh, and Blaze continued to mercilessly attack them.
I surveyed the daemon armies and came to an unsettling conclusion.
“Guys, they’re spreading out,” I said. Hansa followed my gaze, then cursed under her breath. “They’ll come at us from all sides.”
The thick mass of armored daemons began to stretch evenly as they reached the mountain base. They split into squadrons of twenty to thirty grunts, then moved around to cover the eastern and northern slopes, too. Their generals barked orders and whipped the pit wolves. The beasts lunged forward and began their climb, growling, desperate to get to us.
Several Death Claws landed in the middle of the southern army. The daemons cleared the impact area and continued their advance, banging their swords on their shields. It sent shivers down my spine. My blood boiled as a direct response to the fear sneaking into my heart. There was the possibility of failure here. There was a chance that we would not make it off of Ragnar Peak.
I shook my head slowly and decided to focus on the mercenaries’ giant crossbows. I couldn’t let fear sabotage my resolve. Not while Caspian stood by my side. I looked down and spotted Hundurr and Rover by the gate, then whistled. Both pit wolves looked up at me. If Scarlett was right, then the creatures understood every word we said.
“We need to disable those giant crossbows,” I said.
Farther ahead, Blaze was finished with the last of the Death Claws and began his descent toward the mountain base. The mercenaries were loading the giant crossbows—commonly known as ballistae—with equally large arrows. Hundurr growled and rushed down the mountain, followed by Rover. I had a feeling they understood exactly what we needed them to do.
“No sign of our allies yet,” I muttered, my gaze shifting between the southern and western armies. “And about seventeen hundred daemons are about to climb this peak. Zane was right. These guys are better equipped to fight us than their predecessors were.”
“We can still escape through the back hatch when the time comes,” Hansa replied. “But we’ll have to fight our way down the mountain. Let’s focus on disabling all their large-scale weapons first. Once they start climbing the mountain, it’ll be death on a first-come, first-served basis.”
Pit wolves yelped beneath the dark foliage. Metal collars clanged as they were torn open. Our pit wolf problem was basically solving itself at this point, and it gave me an additional confidence boost. Those creatures were huge and could tackle a daemon general all on their own. Grunts were even easier to break. We needed them to do as much of the groundwork as possible, since we had a limited supply of arrows and only one dragon.
“Yeah, it’ll be tough to make a clean exit,” Scarlett confirmed after she checked the northern ridge. “The route itself is not easily accessible from the sides, but I wouldn’t put it past the daemons to make an extra effort. It’s steep, but they could still get to it.”
Pheng-Pheng gasped, her amber eyes wide as she turned her head to look at me. She seemed tense and downright stiff, her jaw clenched.
“Harper Hellswan,” she said, her voice low and slightly different. “The Ekar has come to me. I can see your enemies surrounding you. Stay strong.”
I remembered then that the Manticore queen had this ability to communicate through all her people, including her daughter. That was Neha speaking through Pheng-Pheng. My heart swelled in my chest, growing three sizes. We finally had confirmation of one round of allied forces coming to our aid—and hopefully they would come soon enough.
It was starting to look downright dismal for us, not to mention messy and bloody.
“Queen Neha,” I breathed.
Pheng-Pheng smiled, cocking her head to the side. “Worry not, young vampire. We are coming. I do keep my promises, you know.”
Before I could get a chance to ask how long till they got to Ragnar Peak, Pheng-Pheng exhaled sharply and blinked several times, regaining her consciousness.
“That was Mother... I could feel her,” she murmured, then eagerly looked around. “I think they’re close.”
“Good,” Hansa interjected. “Now, get ready.”
We all looked down at the dark mass spreading around the mountain. The drums banged ferociously. Swords clanged against meranium shields. I could hear the screeching of the ballistae being turned and aimed at Blaze. He circled above them, looking for the right entry angle.
When the launch mechanism on a ballista clicked, the dragon’s jaws parted wide open, and fire and fury left his throat. The daemons were quick to cover themselves with their shields. A series of metallic screeching sounds caught my attention—the ballistae were equipped with charmed meranium plates that covered them with less than a minute’s notice; the dome-shaped casing protected the giant crossbows from fire.
“Oh, crap,” I muttered. “It’s going to take more than that to disable those things.”
Daemons roared below as they began to climb the mountain.
We loaded our arrows and pointed them downward.
This is it.
Harper
For a moment, I was breathless.
My brain was desperately trying to adjust to the scene unfolding before my eyes—hordes of daemons working their way up the peak to get to us. I listened to my own heartbeat, rampant and downright erratic. But beneath the thuds, there was a layer of determination I’d managed to tap into.
This wasn’t panic I was experiencing. Not anymore, anyway. It was a sliver of clarity. My brain finally switched gears, and I went into battle mode. My entire body bucked as I took my first deep breath, my bow stretched.
Another swarm of Death Claws emerged from the western ridge. About three dozen.
Hansa was the first to point her bow at them. “Take them down first! Let the dragon deal with the ballistae! Archers, go!”
In one fluid movement, all of us with bows turned to the west and relea
sed our arrows. I used my True Sight for target accuracy. We used explosive arrowheads this time. They blew up everything they hit—chests, wings, heads. Blood sprayed out. Chunks of Death Claws rained all over the western ridge, and we reloaded and fired another round.
Below, our pit wolves ripped off the collars of the enemy hounds, then coaxed them into fighting on our side. One by one, pit wolves regained their freedom and rushed down the mountain, careful to avoid the land mines we’d set.
The daemons roared as they got past the first fifty yards. That was as much hope as we allowed them to have. They tripped the wires and—boom. A chain of explosions ripped through the base of Ragnar Peak. Orange fires bloomed and swallowed the front line of mercenaries. Many were torn to pieces.
Our pit wolves reached them. Jaws snapped shut. Flesh and meranium armor plates were torn. Bodies of daemons and giant hounds tangled. Heads jerked. Swords punctured black, leathery skin. Some of the pit wolves died in battle. But many chewed their way through the daemon ranks.
We had more Death Claws to deal with. We reloaded, then fired a third round. Two of the creatures slammed into the courtyard. The Imen were quick to neutralize them.
Another chain of explosions followed, this time on the north side. Daemons had stumbled upon those mines, too. Don’t worry, fellas. Plenty more where those came from.
Caspian and I exchanged quick glances as we mounted a fourth round of explosive arrows onto our bows. The Druids and the fae made liberal use of their fire spells. Caia in particular was increasingly destructive. Her fireballs were small, pretty much the size of her head, but concentrated with enough energy to explode and tear into a fully grown Death Claw.
“She’s quite feisty today,” Fiona muttered, watching her for a few seconds. To my right, Caspian released his arrow. I shot mine too—caught a Claw right in its ugly, drooling face.
“Yeah, she’s missing out on a baseball career, at this point,” I replied. Fiona chuckled, reloaded, and fired another explosive arrow. It caught a Claw in its side, right above the courtyard. It plunged, screeching, and rammed into the eastern wall, breaking its neck in the process.