Miro kissed her lips. “No. I need you to take care of Tomas, not Amelia.”
“Here they come!” someone yelled.
“Go, please,” Miro said.
“Come with me!” Amber said, tears running down her face.
“My place is here. I can’t leave.” Miro gave her a gentle push. Amber looked back at him one last time and then ran in the direction of the city.
Bartolo rejoined Miro’s side. As the two men awaited the enemy’s charge, hearts pounding and swords readied, time stretched out, and Miro saw that for the first time there weren’t more warriors pouring out of the forest. They were facing the last of the force from the ships.
Scanning the line of defenders, Miro saw that even with the nightshades and fresh Veznan infantry, their numbers were still not enough.
They’d come so close.
“I wish my wife would leave too,” Bartolo said.
“If I left, who would save your life?” Shani said beside him.
Bartolo rolled his eyes. “She rescued me at the pass. I’m never going to hear the end of it.”
Miro smiled as he looked from one face to the other, remembering them. This was it: the end. They all knew it.
Scanning the battlefield, Miro saw the Hazarans now grouped together on the left. In that direction was the closest route out of the city. The kalif was being true to his word, and would fight this last battle, but he was preparing the way out. Miro hoped the rest of the Empire would succeed where he had failed.
Half the Veznan nightshades had fallen as they charged the enemy rear; even now Miro could see gnarled trunks twitching on the mud. The Veznan infantry stood side by side with Miro’s soldiers.
Five houses had worked together to defend Miro’s homeland. When had such a combined effort last taken place? More than likely when the humans first fought to depose the Evermen. Miro was glad he’d seen it in his lifetime.
Miro saw Beorn hold a sword in the air and fix him with a rare grin. In another direction Master Goss had one arm limp at his side, his green sleeve dripping blood to the ground, while his other hand clutched a silver wand. High Lord Tiesto Telmarran stood with the last of his soldiers. The Halrana were steadfast to the end.
Miro met Bartolo’s eyes and nodded. He looked along the shining length of his zenblade. Ella had made it for him. He only regretted that he couldn’t see her now.
Miro commenced his song.
The activation rune sparked first, the glow traveling to the next symbol along the blade, colors lighting each rune in turn until the zenblade shone with a brilliant gleam. Interspersed in the song were sequences to bring Miro’s armorsilk to life, to cloak Miro’s body and make him as ethereal as a shadow. Beside him he saw Bartolo’s blade turn blue, and Bartolo’s form also shimmered as his voice rose in a sturdy baritone.
The strange distortion of time ended. Everything became fast again.
The enemy charged.
Miro roared and threw himself at his foes. He ducked an axe and cleaved a tall barbarian in two. Weaving to the side, he shot up and tore a revenant woman in half. Fireballs smashed into enemies before Miro could reach them, and he saw Shani send sizzling balls of flame to strike into faces and torsos. Bartolo leapt and danced among the revenants as he cut through them. In all directions there was fighting, with Veznan soldiers in orange fighting beside Alturans in green, Halrana in brown, and Hazaran horsemen smashing in from the side.
Beorn led a charge to close a gap in the line, and then a huge revenant standing taller than the rest rammed his shoulder into the grizzled veteran and knocked him back. Beorn countered with his blade, but the revenant was faster, dodging and then thrusting a broadsword into Beorn’s chest. The blade emerged from Beorn’s back, and when it was withdrawn, blood gushed from Beorn’s mouth.
Beorn’s eyes widened with agony, but his scream was lost in the gurgle of blood as he crumpled to the ground.
Miro cried out and tried to fight his way to Beorn, but the press of the enemy kept him back. Master Goss of the Academy sent beams of golden light from his wand, but a rush of revenants swamped the enchanter, knocking him down to the ground, their axes and spiked maces breaking the enchanter’s body into a red and green mess.
Miro fought like a man possessed, sending limbs and heads flying into the air with every stroke of his zenblade, but still they kept coming. Two nightshades smashed into the enemy in front of him, creating a momentary lull, and then Miro saw Shani.
She stood over the fallen form of a man in green and across the battlefield she met Miro’s eyes.
The pain in her gaze told Miro enough.
Miro fought his way over, seeing Bartolo on his back with a shallow wound spurting blood through a tear in his darkened armorsilk. Seeing the fading runes, Miro realized Bartolo’s armorsilk must have needed renewal, and he hadn’t said a thing.