Zander checked the extra knife he kept strapped to his thigh, and then they set out again, picking up their pace and streaking through the forest. Demetrius led the way, with Zander in the middle and Titus at the rear. It was nearly an hour later when they made the turn at the trail fork and headed back north. In the distance, the sound of rushing water filled the silent void of the forest, which meant they were getting close to the ravine and the lone bridge that crossed it. They pushed on, picking up their speed.
Don’t let us be too late…
A shrill scream sounded through the trees. Demetrius, the fastest of the three, tore off the path and sprinted into the woods. Zander and Titus followed. As they drew near, roars drowned out the crash of waves against rock. Followed by the horror-filled shrieks of females and young alike.
Demetrius was already engaged by the time Zander and Titus reached the edge of the trees. His weapon clashed against flesh and bone. Snarls and snaps and more screams rose in the late afternoon air as he sliced out with his blade and decapitated one daemon, then moved on to the next.
The forest opened up to a wide bank of sedimentary rock that seemed to tumble off into nowhere. Far below the ledge, a river swirled and twisted. On the opposite side of the ravine, the mountains rose in all their splendid glory, a promised hiding place for the Misos, linked only by a rickety wooden footbridge missing planks and supported by decaying rope.
Zander counted at least eight daemons advancing on the group, not including the two Demetrius had already taken out. Six Misos females shielded at least a dozen young in a semicircle, their backs to the ravine. Their only weapons were rocks and twigs, except for one gun—though even that was useless against monsters like these. And the female holding the gun was shaking so much she was more likely to hit one of her friends than the daemons themselves.
And then there was the fact no one was protecting all those young from the ravine mere steps away at their backs.
“Get back from the edge!” Zander yelled.
“Zander!”
Zander whipped around at the sound of Titus’s urgent voice and realized he was the only one not kicking ass. Adrenaline surging, he yanked his parazonium from the scabbard at his back and ran toward the seething daemon closest to the group.
He sliced, kicked out, swiveled to avoid claws and teeth. Around him snarls and screams filled the air, mixed with the clap of blades striking flesh and bone. But the daemons were relentless. When they fell they got up; when they took a blade they kept going. The only thing that stopped them was decapitation, but it had to be done at just the right angle. And cutting the head off a seven-foot monster with the strength of Heracles wasn’t exactly easy.
The daemon he was fighting swiped at him with razor-sharp claws. Zander twisted out of the way. The daemon swung again, this time catching the edge of his jacket. A ripping sound echoed, and fire crept across Zander’s back. Zander reached for the knife strapped to his thigh and threw it end over end. It plunged deep into the daemon’s chest. The beast howled. With his blade in the other hand, Zander swung out and around, slicing into the daemon’s side.
The beast stumbled but didn’t go down. With a roar, he backhanded Zander across the face, sending him to the ground. Zander hit the rocks hard. The wind left him on a gasp. Sweat and blood dripped down into his eyes.
Screams echoed behind him. He turned his head just enough to see another daemon advancing on the group. A child, no more than eight or nine, stood shaking, clutching the leg of one of the females, blue eyes wide with fear.
Zander scrambled to his feet. “Titus!” he hollered over the fight. “Get them across that bridge!”
Titus, ten feet away, swung his parazonium from the daemon he’d just decapitated and paused to look toward the group. His eyes grew wide, as if seeing the young for the first time.
“Go! Now!” Zander yelled as he charged the bloody daemon seething in front of him. This one was too close to the children. He couldn’t risk getting them across himself.
The monster’s claws caught Zander’s arm, but he barely noticed. He thrust his parazonium out and around. The blade met soft flesh and sank in deep. When the daemon roared and fell to his knees, Zander popped the unholy with his elbow to knock him back. In the split second the monster swayed, dazed, Zander swung and sliced, sending the beast’s head rolling across the hard ground.
“Everyone across the bridge!” Titus yelled, his boots eating up the distance between the fight and the group’s only path to safety. “Right now. Hustle already!”
Zander swiped at his eyes with his forearm and took one quick look toward the group to make sure they were safe. The females’ eyes were all wide with fear, but they urged the young toward the bridge. All but the one with the gun. She stood still as stone, the whites of her eyes visible all around her irises, the weapon in her hand shaking as if she were in the middle of a magnitude-ten earthquake.
Skata. Zander didn’t have time to worry about her. Three more daemons had emerged from the woods and saw their victims’ impending escape. Instead of attacking Demetrius, engaged in battle with another daemon and closest to them, they changed direction and charged.
“Demetrius!” Zander yelled. The Argonauts were outnumbered, outmatched, and there was no way they could protect the Misos unless Titus got them onto the other side of the ravine and cut the bridge’s ropes. Which then left two against one, two, three…seven.
Holy fucking Hera.
“Titus! Get them across now!” Zander wrapped both hands around his weapon, drew in a deep breath and put himself between the advancing daemons and the bridge. If he made it out of this—when he made it out of this—he was never taking life for granted again. He’d seen the future in those eyes a moment ago. A future that wouldn’t exist for any of them unless he and his warrior kin did their job right here and now.
“Go back to hell, you motherfuckers!” He lifted his blade high over his head and coiled to pounce.
A scream echoed behind him, followed by an odd popping sound. Before he could strike, fire rushed through his shoulder and lower back. He had a moment of What the…? then the parazonium flew from his hands and clattered on the cold rocks, out of his reach. His hands jerked out to catch it, but they seemed to be moving in slow motion. Then he was falling, falling…going down face-first even as the daemons were closing in.
“Zander!”
“Zander! No!”
He wasn’t sure why everyone was suddenly screaming his name, but he didn’t really care. As the ground rushed up toward him at light speed, he had only one last thought.
Just when he’d finally decided he had something to live for, it looked as though the gods had granted his death wish.
Chapter Eight
Callia paused at the top of the staircase outside the king’s chamber and rubbed her throbbing temple. It wasn’t the king and his failing health that had given her this massive headache. It was what she knew she had to do next.
A true leader sets aside his personal wants for the good of the whole. And he makes sacrifices. Ones that, in the end, justify all that came before.
Maybe if she repeated the king’s words enough, she’d start to believe them.