Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“But you can fix it?” I plead.
Her brow wrinkles. “I will do what I can, but it will need all my power and then some.” She spares me a doubtful look before settling in. With a deep breath and a pause, as if counting down, she wrenches the blade from Jarek’s chest, earning his gasp. She tosses it away and clamps both hands over the wound, her eyelids shuttering.
I can do nothing but wait.
Zander pulls me to my feet. “Are you okay?”
I peer down at my hands, slick with Jarek’s blood. “Fearghal was shot.”
“It did not hit a major artery, so he should survive. Others were not so lucky.”
“It looks like we’re winning, though?”
He peers back at the camp, to where Abarrane has pinned one of the last saplings to the ground but hasn’t slaughtered him yet. “What you did, Romeria, going out there to free all the fallen legionaries—”
“What Pan and I did,” I correct him.
He smiles. “What you and Pan did … it is the reason we will survive. And when we interrogate one of these saplings and find out where Iago and—”
A deafening screech rattles my eardrums, cutting off all conversation, all thought.
Every hair on my body stands on end. “What was that?” Whatever it was, it was close.
“Nothing good.” Zander squints into the darkness, searching, his sword in his grip. Using the burning bushes, he ignites a line of flame that crawls along the grass, reaching outward, granting more light.
A dark form with four glowing red eyes watches us from the shadows no more than fifty yards away.
“What is that?” I hiss.
When it realizes it’s been spotted, it unfolds its body, quadrupling in size, revealing two serpentine-like heads lined with barbed spikes down both necks and a tail twice the length of its massive body.
“A grif. It’s a type of wyvern, a creature from the Nulling. It’s very rare.” Zander curses. “I cannot believe it has found us already.”
A Nulling creature. “It’s here because of me, isn’t it?” Like the nethertaur, it was drawn to my affinities.
“It does not matter why it is here. You cannot fight this, Romeria.”
“And you can?” It’s easily five times the size of the last beast.
Zander’s line of flame flares as it skitters along the ground toward the beast, forcing it backward, away from us. “I can try. Return to camp.”
But … “I’m not leaving Gesine.” She kneels in front of Jarek, vulnerable as she battles to save his life. And I already know I’m no safer at camp than I am out here. That nethertaur ripped through tents, skewering people, in its bid to find me. This grif will hunt me down anywhere, and it’ll maim or kill anything in its path. Everyone is safer with me staying where I am.
Legionaries rush to our aid, sprinting past us and into the danger zone. I don’t know if all of them together can stop something this size.
“Fine. But once it charges, it is impossible to stop. Do not do anything to attract its attention.” Zander moves in, his steps calculated.
On impulse, I fumble for my dagger. It’s useless, and yet it brings comfort as I grip it tightly and hover over Gesine. Jarek’s face is still and ashen. “How is he?”
I get no response, but I tell myself it means nothing; she never breaks her concentration while in the midst of healing.
The flames encircle the grif, leaving the beast little room to maneuver, a reality it seems aware of as it shifts from clawed foot to clawed foot, its growing agitation visible.
Zander has steered its attention in another direction, away from Gesine and me. “Ready!” he bellows, a battle call to those waiting in the wings, their blades drawn.
A moment later, the circle of fire bursts and the flames rise to crawl over the grif’s body. With an earsplitting screech, it charges through the fire, barreling toward Zander. Shouts sound, and he and the others scatter from its pounding feet, only to loop around and dive in.
It roars as first one blade, then another, pierces its scaly flesh—quick jabs before the legionaries steal away, rolling and jumping to avoid its snapping jaws. Not all of them are fast enough, though. The grif wields its tail as a mighty weapon, sweeping it sideways to slam into one of the males, sending him sailing through the air. Another, it impales with the barbed tip. The legionary screams as it tosses him around, the force no doubt tearing apart his insides.
By the time Zander hits it with blasts of fire and it shakes off its prey, the legionary’s body shows no signs of life.
The grif backs away, out of reach of swords and fire. It lingers, as if calculating its next move.
“Flanks!” Abarrane screams. The group splits to attack from the sides. But with two heads to track their efforts and that vicious tail, sneaking up proves impossible, and they scatter backward again.