His muscles strained, his joints popped. He felt as if his shoulder might be pulled from his socket. His feet were still off the ground and her added weight had pushed him over some tipping point. His palms were sweaty and he felt himself losing purchase on both the edge and her skin, their fingers beginning to slide apart.
Not again. No, please, not again.
But then Christoff saw her face. She was smiling, her eyes wide with wonder. She trusted him. Not in the naïve way in which a child might trust an adult who didn’t truly have their best intentions at heart, but in a manner of certainty. The sure and irrefutable knowledge that everything was going to be all right.
That he would save her.
Sir Christoff Metz, Commander of the Queen’s Army of the North, gritted his teeth, released a roar of agony, and pulled.
Thirty-Two
The Northern Kingdom, Darrin
Annise Gäric
The large female barbarian crashed into Annise, but she managed to avoid much of the impact by diving to the right, almost toppling Zelda in the process. Even still, the air was knocked from her lungs and she felt the sting of sharp claws raking across her arm.
But she wasn’t alone, surrounded by her soldiers, each of whom leapt at the opportunity to protect their queen. No less than three swords stabbed at the pale, muscular body, which was fighting to its feet. One of the soldiers was thrown back by a powerful punch, his scream fading as he disappeared over the inner edge of the wall. One of the other blades was caught by the female, blood exploding from her fingers. One of her fingers was sliced clean through, popping off and landing on Annise’s chest. But the others clamped down on the broad side of the sword. The barbarian yanked the weapon back and the soldier’s grip was so tight that he was pulled toward her. With a snarl she launched herself forward, sinking her fangs into his neck.
The sound he made was more horrifying than any Annise had ever heard, almost inhuman.
It took her a moment to realize when it had stopped, his airways filling with his own blood.
Zelda was standing in front of her now, blocking her view. I cannot let another die for me, she thought furiously, fighting back to her feet. In such close quarters her Evenstar was of little use, so she drew a short sword that had come in handy on more than one occasion.
The female took a sword to the abdomen, but like the arrow protruding from her skull, it seemed to have little effect. The barbarians whirled around, wrenching the blade from its owner’s grip. With a bloody flourish, she drew the blade from her own flesh, growling. She flung it away like it was of no use.
Zelda swiped at the large foe, but she bounded back, bashing into two more soldiers, one of whom lost her balance and tumbled over the precipice. The barbarians caught the other soldier in her fist, lifting him off his feet, holding him aloft. He dropped his sword, and light-colored liquid trickled down his armor from his midsection.
Annise was filled with rage. These barbarians had no right to come to their lands, to murder at will, to destroy everything they’d built over centuries.
She pushed past Zelda, finally finding some space as so many soldiers had already fallen, trying not to think about how badly they were losing, drawing her Evenstar by its hilt, the chain uncoiling like a silver snake arising from sleep…
Her muscles quivering with adrenaline, she whipped it around once, twice, and just as the female prepared to toss the helpless soldier off the wall, she struck.
Annise had been aiming for the creature’s head, but the female stood a full two feet taller, and the angle was off. Instead, the spiked ball smacked off her broad back, rebounding away and almost taking Annise in the leg if she hadn’t been prepared to step back out of harm’s way.
The barbarian shrieked with what sounded, to Annise, like anger rather than pain. With a casualness that contradicted the act of death, she flung the soldier from the wall and turned to face her new attacker, her thick lips curling into something resembling a smile.
A roar erupted, but it wasn’t from the barbarian. No, dozens of soldiers poured in around Annise and Zelda, forming a protective wall.
The barbarian licked her lips, tasting the blood that speckled her mouth.
And then she twisted away and clambered over the inner wall, descending into the city.
At that same moment, Annise heard a devastating sound. The crack of wood shattering as the city’s impenetrable wooden gates were penetrated.
Tarin
Tarin was still Tarin. Well, mostly.
The monster’s strength surged through him, and he felt the urge to destroy, to enact violence on anything and anyone that moved, but his brain was still working. He could still discern friend from foe. At least for now.
The thunder of battering rams of muscle and bone rumbled through the night. Dozens of spearmen and spearwomen stood at the fore of the defense, prepared to impale the enemy if the gates were broken.
Tarin heard shouts atop the wall and his gaze shifted just as several barbarians leapt onto the wall. He searched for Annise, but she and her aunt were lost amongst the armored soldiers. Though he could never fully erase the urge to run to her side, to protect her, he also knew she was as much a warrior as a queen, and that she needed him here, at the gates.
He planted his feet and waited, watching as cracks formed in the thick doors. Splinters split free and dust fell like a fine rain. The defense seemed to hold its collective breath as three more heavy blows resounded through the night.
It was the fourth in the series of hits that did the doors in. The locks burst from their moorings and the doors exploded inwards. The spearmen were ready for the foe at their front, already pushing forward, thrusting their deadly blades at the wall of enemies.
However, they were not ready for the foes that dropped into their midst from above.
Tarin, set back from the gate, had a good vantage point to see the situation unfolding—the soldiers atop the wall being overwhelmed, the barbarians shoving forward, flinging themselves recklessly inside the wall—but it all happened too swiftly for him to roar a warning.
And then they were there, dozens of muscled barbarians. The chaos that ensued broke the organized lines of spearmen, which allowed the barbarians that had shattered the gates to shove through. A few of the spearmen managed to land death blows, using the barbarians’ own momentum and strength against them as their weapons sunk into their enemies’ chests and throats, but it wasn’t enough.
Not nearly enough.
Tarin knew he would have to make up the difference.
Together, he said.
As you wish, the monster said. But it will only weaken you. If you let me free…
“No,” Tarin growled, stalking forward, starting his Morningstar turning in a long, slow arc.
One of the barbarians broke through a line of defenders, the bodies of soldiers sprawling like a child’s toys knocked over by an errant hand. When it saw Tarin, it growled, and he couldn’t help but notice how similar to his own growl it was.
One of the soldiers that had been knocked down clambered to her feet and tried to swipe at the beast with her sword, but the barbarian didn’t even look at her, merely took the slash on its upper arm and then backhanded her with such force she flipped backwards, landing awkwardly on her face and knees.
The barbarian’s eyes remained on Tarin, and he remembered seeing this same foe when they’d fought two days earlier. It was a male, but a large one, three bony bumps running from his forehead to neck. Tarin remembered this enemy had been more cautious than some of the others, his eyes cold and calculating. It had been this one that had sounded the retreat, leading his allies to the safety of the mountains.
There was no retreat in his eyes now. “Def Clan nar helm,” the barbarian said, the words as rough as gravel. “We fight. We fight for Def Clan. Not for Klar-Ggra.”
‘Klar-Ggra’ Tarin understood. It was the name the barbarians had given their leader, Helmuth Gäric. The Lost Son. Strangely, it was comfort
ing knowing that these barbarians no longer fought for Annise’s uncle, but for their own clan. But still, it didn’t change the fact that they would slaughter the northerners like cattle if they could.
If we let them, Tarin thought, and then he attacked.
The male dodged his first strike, the Morningstar cutting narrowly past as he bounded away on both hands and feet.
They circled, the battle raging all around them as barbarians and humans perished. In the back of Tarin’s mind he knew this was taking too long, that they were losing and he needed to be more efficient in his killing. But he also knew this particular barbarian wasn’t easy prey.
I can kill this creature quickly. Let me.
The temptation was there, but Tarin didn’t want to experience that feeling of time passing out of his control, his recollection full of fog and stardust. Instead, he maintained just enough control to refocus, taking another swipe at his foe.
Again, the male dodged, the ball smashing into the ground, churning up dirt.
This time, the male attempted to move inside the range of Tarin’s weapon, darting forward, planting its two strong legs and bounding off them, claws flashing.
From his experience fighting these creatures thus far, Tarin expected such a tactic, stepping quickly to the side and slamming his gauntleted fist into the side of the barbarian’s jaw.
The male snarled and fell sideways, but managed to arrest its fall with a hand, twist its body to face him, and dodge his next attempt to bludgeon its head with the Morningstar.
Dammit, Tarin thought, unable to block out the rest of the battle. Soldiers were falling in droves, their numbers dwindling while the barbarian army seemed to grow as more and more infiltrated the city. He wanted to look for Annise, needed to know she was all right.
My turn, the monster growled, and this time Tarin gave into it. Not quite all the way, but enough that strength surged through him and he felt it take control. Instead of testing the barbarian’s defenses, he stalked directly for it, grabbing its arm when it tried to rake a claw across his chest. In a single motion he snapped its thick arm, hearing the bones break like a broken branch—Snap!
He followed it up with a brutal knee to its abdomen, doubling it over. Rather than shoving it away and trying to land a blow from the Morningstar, he simply wrapped the chain around its neck and stepped behind it, pulling tight.
He couldn’t see its face, but the barbarian began to spasm, gurgling sounds erupting from its throat. Desperately, it reached back and raked its claws across the sides of his face, but the pain was nothing now, and Tarin only tightened his grip and pulled harder.
When the barbarian stopped moving, he flung it aside.
Everything felt foggy now, like a cloak had been cast over the already dark night. Bodies moved around him and he grabbed one, a woman soldier. She cried out, struggling in his grip, but he held fast. He wanted to end her noise, wanted to stop her heart from beating, wanted to stem the flow of blood through her ve—
“NO!’ he roared, dropping her.
Somewhere deep inside him, the monster chuckled. All Tarin wanted to do was shove it back, throw up his wall, but he knew he could not, not with the city under siege, not with the battle going against them second by second.
So, slowly, carefully, he let the monster creep back in. And then they fought like they were the barbarians.
Annise
Annise rallied the soldiers that had survived the assault on the wall, leading them down the steps with a cry of war. Zelda was near at hand and together they leapt the final six steps and threw themselves into the fray.
The first barbarian they faced was a smallish male, only a smidge over six feet and already bleeding from one eye. Still, several soldiers were scattered around it, dead.
Annise brought her Evenstar into orbit while her aunt circled around the opposite side. It glanced from one woman to the other and then made a decision.
Wrong choice, Annise thought, whipping her spiked ball around at the exact second it sprung forward, aiming not for where it stood but where she expected it to go, the timing perfect.
Its head exploded from the impact, the weapon sinking into the softest part, just below the ear.
“Leave some for me,” Zelda said with a sinister smile, turning to face the next closest enemy.
A roar dragged Annise’s attention away from her aunt to where Tarin stood, his arms hanging from his sides, his chest rising and falling beneath his makeshift armor. Before him a soldier scrabbled backwards like a crab to get away while Tarin’s dark stare bore into her.
Not again, Annise thought. She knew all too well the fine line Tarin walked during battle. She couldn’t let him cross the line, not if it caused him to do something he wouldn’t be able to cope with. She couldn’t lose him again. “Zelda,” she said. “Tarin needs me.”
Her aunt nodded, her eyes never departing from that of her enemy, a sizeable female barbarian with blunt cheekbones and sunken black eyes. “Go. This one is mine.”
Annise ran, not looking back, her eyes tethered to where Tarin stood, still just breathing. If she didn’t know him she would think him a madman. “Tarin!” she shouted, darting around a battle between one barbarian and three soldiers. The soldiers were losing, but she couldn’t stop to help them—the entire battle might be lost if Tarin didn’t snap out of his mental struggle.
As she approached, she slowed her pace, stopping well out of his reach. She’d made the mistake of trying to touch him during one of these episodes, and she knew it would only make things worse. Instead, she spoke loudly, waving her hands to get his attention. “Tarin! It’s me. Annise.”
He flinched, but still he stared at the soldier woman who was back on her feet.
“Go,” Annise said to her. When she didn’t react, she added, more loudly, “Now!” The woman scrambled away. Tarin’s eyes met hers, but there was no recognition there, the darkness like the fathomless space between the stars.
Then he blinked and it was Tarin again. Perhaps not all Tarin, but enough of him that he said, “Annise?”
“Yes.” All she wanted was to grab his hand and pull him away from this horrid place, to promise him he would never have to fight again.
But alas, she could not. Even if she wasn’t a queen, she wouldn’t abandon the brave souls fighting all around them.
“I—I almost hurt her,” Tarin said. “That woman.”
Annise could feel the despair in his voice. She’d heard it before, and she knew it was a heavy chain pulling him down into endless darkness. “You didn’t,” she said firmly. “You saved her. You saved her life. You can save others too. So many.”
“Shut up,” he said, but Annise knew the reply wasn’t meant for her, but for the whispers in his head. “She looked at me with such fear. Like I was a monster.”
“You’re not.”
“You don’t know what I am.”
Time was running out. Annise was forced to step closer to Tarin as a barbarian charged past. “Tarin!” she said, desperate now. “I’m sorry. You must fight. I need you to fight.”
“I—I know,” he said. His hand reached for her, and she longed to take it, but it fell away almost as quickly as it had appeared.
And then Tarin was gone, whirling around and grabbing a barbarian by the back of the throat, snapping its neck with such strength and savagery that Annise flinched. Stop it, she thought. He’s a hero. He’s your hero.
She forced herself to stop watching him and turned away to find Zelda.
Tarin
Their size and strength made no difference. Not to him. They were fodder to his cannons. They were twigs to his hands. They were empty husks under each blow from the Morningstar.
The number of pale bodies littering the area inside the city gates was growing, and Tarin was responsible for more than his fair share of them. The monster’s scream was endless, a banshee wail with no beginning or end. The only way to cut it off was to kill.
Them.
All.
The largest barbarian he had seen yet appeared before him, an arrow protruding from her skull, which was humped with a massive bone. Blood poured from a serious wound in her abdomen, while numerous cuts and slashes decorated her arms and legs. Nothing, however, seemed to slow her, even as she tore into a soldier’s neck, ripping out his throat.
Tarin started for her, lengthening his strides. She saw him coming, her head cocking to the side in an innocent-looking contradiction to the blood and gore running down her chin. Tarin’s own teeth were locked together, shivering slightly from the adrenaline pouring through him. He tightened his grip on the Morningstar, letting the spiked ball dangle behind him as he rested the hilt on his shoulder.
The female lowered her head and began to run. There were several soldiers between her and him, but she batted them away like hanging branches, snarling with each step. Tarin whipped the chain over his head, the spiked ball gaining momentum as it reached its apex, hovering for a bare moment before falling like a hammer blow.
With impossible deftness for a creature of her size, the barbarian cut left, the ball slashing past in a silver blur, crashing into the ground and throwing Tarin off balance. She lowered her head and smashed directly into him, her boned scalp like an iron ball. She drove with her legs, picking up his heavy body and then slamming him down on his back.
The monster hissed, but even it was taken by surprise by the ferocity of their enemy’s attack.
Tarin tried to roll away, but the female held him fast with her knees, biting at his face with four deadly fangs separated by rows of sharp teeth.
He barely managed to buck his head to avoid them, and then swung it around to land a blow from his own forehead on her nose, dark blood exploding outwards and splattering across his face. She roared, but didn’t release her hold. The blow had left him stunned.
Once more, she gnashed her teeth at him, and it was all he could do to shove his hands into her chest to hold her away. Still, with each passing second those fangs drew closer, saliva dripping from them in a sinuous crystalline rain.