Sara focused on breathing steadily and not panicking. The last thing Xanthus needed right now was her falling to pieces.
“Stay here,” he ordered, and then he was gone. She heard the clanking of metal as she felt currents of water pushing her from one side to the other, and from above. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Sara saw Xanthus flying like a ghost through the water. He clashed with Dagonian after Dagonian as they came at him one after the other. Each warrior’s face was contorted with rage, anger, and bloodlust.
Xanthus clutched a trident in one hand and a sword in the other. He met and deflected each strike, each spear, even each harpoon that was being shot from a distance. Sara had no idea how skilled a warrior Xanthus was until now. Countless soldiers surrounded him, yet they couldn’t land one strike against him. But every blow delivered by Xanthus met its mark, slashing flesh, and dismembering limbs.
Sara was sickened when Xanthus took the head off one soldier and then in the same swipe, the armed hand of another. Red, billowing clouds filled the water. Out of the clouds, Sara saw a spear come straight for her head. She screamed—fear and horror driving her wailing cry. Xanthus deflected the spear at the last second.
A moment later, the sounds of battle ceased. Sara continued to scream as she felt an arm clamp around her waist and a hand slap over her mouth.
Then there was silence.
The fighting must have been over, given the stony silence. That could only mean one thing—Xanthus was dead.