pummel the well-armed Jlantrian warriors with streams of Veil power.
The Dawn Knights regrouped and descended on the prisoners and the Red Hand with a vengeance. Vra’taars, spiked shields and clawed hammers ripped into bodies. Screams filled the night as the twisted mountain forest was spattered with blood.
The Red Hand blasted into the Dawn Knight’s ranks with arcane missiles and bolts of acid. A few of them vanished and reappeared closer to the heart of the conflict, where they snapped open cage locks and helped the prisoners escape from the burning shacks.
Ijanna was in the thick of it. Sammael cried as they moved through the ranks of exhausted prisoners and into darkness blazing with fire. The prisoners made for the tree line. People fell onto swords or slid into the burning pits. Whorls of electricity and bladed ice storms hammered armored bodies. Horses whinnied in fear as Veil energies tore them down.
Skulls burst, men screamed. Women and children were trampled beneath hooves. Some made it to the treeline, their escape covered by Bloodspeakers who used their battle wands to form walls of burning thorns.
Many of the Dawn Knights ignored the Red Hand and focused just on the fleeing prisoners. Arrows and bolts tore through weak and malnourished flesh, and soldiers crushed faces and opened stomachs beneath their merciless assaults. Swords swept back and forth, hacking people apart like they were bloody wheat stalks.
Ijanna moved fast and tried her best to steer clear from the larger clusters of prisoners. She lost Malath somewhere in the chaos, but she couldn’t let that stop her. Cold sweat washed down her face, and her body was battered and bruised from colliding with the other prisoners. Fear ripped across her skin like claws.
A Dawn Knight swung and tried to take her head off. Ijanna ducked, and before the man could gather for a follow-through a blast of fire incinerated his skull. Another Knight cleaved through a pair of fleeing boys not ten paces away.
She ran without sense of direction, away from the fires and towards the shadows. Some part of her brain reasoned she’d be safe there. She slipped in gore and nearly tripped over bodies.
Ijanna Breathed. Veil power swept around her and filled her with strength. Her powers were still weak – whatever hold the Dawn Knights had on the area didn’t appear to affect the Red Hand’s battle wands, but Ijanna’s reserve of the Veil seemed almost depleted, and as she stumbled over corpses and dodged her attackers she felt like she floated through some terrifying dream.
Blood and noise, a ground slick with mud and carnage. Ijanna took hold of Sammael’s little hands where he’d locked them on her shoulder. She felt his weight, and a tingle of fear spread through her body. At any moment she expected something to strike them down, and her back twisted with tension and anticipation of a blow, but she couldn’t think about that, couldn’t stop. She crouched low, held tight, listened to her son’s tears and felt his heart pound against her back.
She ran. Red spattered across their path. Something exploded just out of sight and nearly threw her to her knees.
Fire scoured the ground ahead. Ijanna took a breath and ran through the flames, felt them lick her knees and scorch the bottoms of her feet. Pain lanced up her limbs.
Everything was covered with blood. People died behind her. Blades and screams and blasts of power echoed into the atmosphere.
She ran along the edge of a wide pit, barely keeping her balance. Dozens of people were slowly dying inside, submerged up to their waists in boiling hot water or being flayed by Dawn Knights who didn’t seem to notice that their camp was under attack, or else just didn’t care. She saw more cages filled with prisoners who cried out to her in pity, begging her to come and release them. She wasn’t sure, even years later, why
The Dawn Knights regrouped and descended on the prisoners and the Red Hand with a vengeance. Vra’taars, spiked shields and clawed hammers ripped into bodies. Screams filled the night as the twisted mountain forest was spattered with blood.
The Red Hand blasted into the Dawn Knight’s ranks with arcane missiles and bolts of acid. A few of them vanished and reappeared closer to the heart of the conflict, where they snapped open cage locks and helped the prisoners escape from the burning shacks.
Ijanna was in the thick of it. Sammael cried as they moved through the ranks of exhausted prisoners and into darkness blazing with fire. The prisoners made for the tree line. People fell onto swords or slid into the burning pits. Whorls of electricity and bladed ice storms hammered armored bodies. Horses whinnied in fear as Veil energies tore them down.
Skulls burst, men screamed. Women and children were trampled beneath hooves. Some made it to the treeline, their escape covered by Bloodspeakers who used their battle wands to form walls of burning thorns.
Many of the Dawn Knights ignored the Red Hand and focused just on the fleeing prisoners. Arrows and bolts tore through weak and malnourished flesh, and soldiers crushed faces and opened stomachs beneath their merciless assaults. Swords swept back and forth, hacking people apart like they were bloody wheat stalks.
Ijanna moved fast and tried her best to steer clear from the larger clusters of prisoners. She lost Malath somewhere in the chaos, but she couldn’t let that stop her. Cold sweat washed down her face, and her body was battered and bruised from colliding with the other prisoners. Fear ripped across her skin like claws.
A Dawn Knight swung and tried to take her head off. Ijanna ducked, and before the man could gather for a follow-through a blast of fire incinerated his skull. Another Knight cleaved through a pair of fleeing boys not ten paces away.
She ran without sense of direction, away from the fires and towards the shadows. Some part of her brain reasoned she’d be safe there. She slipped in gore and nearly tripped over bodies.
Ijanna Breathed. Veil power swept around her and filled her with strength. Her powers were still weak – whatever hold the Dawn Knights had on the area didn’t appear to affect the Red Hand’s battle wands, but Ijanna’s reserve of the Veil seemed almost depleted, and as she stumbled over corpses and dodged her attackers she felt like she floated through some terrifying dream.
Blood and noise, a ground slick with mud and carnage. Ijanna took hold of Sammael’s little hands where he’d locked them on her shoulder. She felt his weight, and a tingle of fear spread through her body. At any moment she expected something to strike them down, and her back twisted with tension and anticipation of a blow, but she couldn’t think about that, couldn’t stop. She crouched low, held tight, listened to her son’s tears and felt his heart pound against her back.
She ran. Red spattered across their path. Something exploded just out of sight and nearly threw her to her knees.
Fire scoured the ground ahead. Ijanna took a breath and ran through the flames, felt them lick her knees and scorch the bottoms of her feet. Pain lanced up her limbs.
Everything was covered with blood. People died behind her. Blades and screams and blasts of power echoed into the atmosphere.
She ran along the edge of a wide pit, barely keeping her balance. Dozens of people were slowly dying inside, submerged up to their waists in boiling hot water or being flayed by Dawn Knights who didn’t seem to notice that their camp was under attack, or else just didn’t care. She saw more cages filled with prisoners who cried out to her in pity, begging her to come and release them. She wasn’t sure, even years later, why
Similar Books
