Blood turned the dirt to mud, and as Miro blocked an overhead cut from the red-eyed pirate king, he slipped.
Time slowed as Miro fell down to his knees, his zenblade falling from his grip. He raised an arm and blocked a glowing falchion with his naked armorsilk, grunting as the falchion struck with nearly enough force to break his arm, knowing that to cease his chant would be to die. The second falchion sizzled as it carved the air, in a direct line for Miro’s neck. There was nothing he could do about it.
A newcomer in blazing armorsilk entered the fray and charged into the pirate king of Rendar. Taking the warrior by surprise the newcomer launched a flurry of blows at Diemos’s head and chest. Miro picked up his zenblade and cut at the pirate king’s legs, but his opponent deftly jumped out of the way.
Miro could see the fighter was a bladesinger, but he couldn’t see his face, and even for a bladesinger this man was fast. Each blow of the whirling falchions was met with a blocking zenblade, and Miro looked for an opening in the flickering steel and sparks but couldn’t risk harming the bladesinger.
Miro heard the man’s baritone and knew who he was.
Bartolo.
Miro cut overhead at the pirate king from behind, yet still a falchion met his zenblade. Miro pushed down, and it was now a match of strength on strength. The pirate king held off Bartolo with a single falchion. With a crash like lightning, Bartolo struck home, directly into the revenant’s heart. Miro continued to push, and the pirate king’s arm relaxed for the barest instant. In a flash Miro brought his zenblade back and forward once more, swinging in a direct line for the neck. The pirate king moved out of the way, but Bartolo met the movement with his own blade.
Bartolo’s zenblade smashed into the pirate king’s skull, shearing it in half. The revenant slumped down to his knees and fell face first into the mud.
“We need to pull back!” Bartolo cried.
Miro saw that the attackers were gaining the upper hand.
“Retreat!” Miro shouted.
He and Bartolo fought to give the fleeing defenders space. Iron golems were suddenly by their side, and as the golems held the line, Miro and Bartolo turned and ran.
Risking a glance over his shoulder, Miro saw the golems fall one by one, swamped by the attackers. Then the river of warriors surged ahead. Miro put every thought to running, leaping over bodies as his breath ran ragged. He scanned the road ahead, looking for the next blockade where Tiesto waited, but the blockade was a distance away.
The enemy would reach them first.
Miro glanced at Bartolo and saw the fear on his friend’s face. Bartolo pointed ahead and shouted something, but his words were lost in the din.
The two running bladesingers rounded a corner.
Miro saw figures in red robes. As he ran through the line of elementalists, feeling the breath of his enemies hot on his heels, a wall of fire rose up behind them.
Miro stopped when he reached safety behind the elementalists and turned, gasping and wheezing. He watched as fire took the revenants, hearing the terrible sound of sizzling flesh. It took time for the attackers to pull back from the flames, and in that time hundreds burnt to ash.
Miro grabbed Bartolo’s arm and pulled him forward, clasping his arms around his friend’s shoulders. “Where have you been?”
“Busy.” Bartolo grinned. “Shani wanted a holiday at the beach, but instead I found you.”
Miro scanned the red-robed elementalists.
“Behind you,” Bartolo said.
Miro whirled and saw Shani, her hands in the air and an expression of concentration on her face as she guided the flames. He waited until her arms slumped at her sides and she deactivated the cuffs at her wrists, before pulling her into a rough embrace. “Petrya! You came!”
“No, Miro,” Shani said, shaking her head. “There’s only a few of us. I left the high lord in Tlaxor.”
Miro felt disappointment like a blow, but his gaze took in forty elementalists, and he knew they’d lasted another day.
One more day, bought in blood.
Ella had a bowl on her knees as she washed blood from her hands and neck. She heard a throat clear and glanced up.
Shani stood with her arms crossed in front of her breasts, frowning down at her. Ella set the bowl down and leapt up to hug her friend.
“All that blood. How are you holding up?” Shani questioned her, holding Ella at arm’s length.
“As well as any of us,” Ella said.
“I found Bartolo at the pass. The signal’s gone through, and I brought some friends, but I’m sorry there aren’t more of us. I sent another message to the high lord but there’s nothing more I can do.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Ella said. “You came. That’s enough.”
“Lord of Fire,” Shani said as she let out a breath, “how do you fight the dead?”
Ella sighed. “With hope and fear. With courage and death.”
“Bartolo says your brother was almost killed.”
Ella sucked in a breath, biting her lips, but tears welled at the corners of her eyes.