Haldron raised his hands, settling the noise of the Havamal. The crowd leaned forward, their smiles and jeers sickening me to my core. This was meant to be a trial where the gods determined our fate. He’d turned it into a vicious game and allowed the crowd to think they were here for a show.
“Praise Solric on this sacred Harvest Moon!” Haldron’s voice boomed through the Havamal, clearly assisted by some form of magic.
Another cheer erupted and I inched closer to Rykr.
“Whatever happens, stay by my side.” Rykr’s voice filled my head. “Haldron will have tricks to play.”
Once the cheers ended, Haldron said, “We have a unique Skorn this year. With not just the normal sentenced, but traitors to the seat of Emberstone and a Lirien—a Sealed Pendaran who represents the best of their warriors. Let us see how he does against the mighty Skorn!”
All around us, gates opened on the walls below the risers where the spectators watched.
Cold gnawed at my bones as Skorn emerged from the tunnels, their faces painted with ash, dark kohl around their eyes.
They looked just as soulless as the Nyxwraiths had been. A quick, inexact count put them at over thirty in number. Haldron wasn’t taking any chances.
I backed closer to Rykr, each breath a ragged plume of mist in the night air. My clothes clung to me like a second skin, heavy with water. The moon’s pale light spilled across the Havamal’s vast, unforgiving basin, turning the jagged rocks and dirt into a silver graveyard.
“Stay together, in formation,” Rykr commanded with authority. My friends and Tara wouldn’t question him here. He was our best shot at survival.
The roar of the crowd slithered down the stone walls of the amphitheater, seeping into my skin until the sound filled my head like a war drum. They wanted blood. Our blood.
Pain was a fire licking through my ribs, spreading with every heartbeat. I pressed a hand to the wound Seth had given me, but the effort was in vain. I’d already lost too much blood and the poison spreading through me couldn’t be stopped. But I couldn’t afford to be weak now. Not here. Not when every moment of my life had led to this.
“Stay close, Seren.” Rykr’s voice, rough and urgent, echoed through the bond, grounding me. I felt his worry like a pulse, steady and insistent. I wanted to answer, to tell him I was fine, but the lie stuck in my throat. So I nodded, forcing myself into a fighting stance, feeling his presence like a shield at my back.
The Skorn encircled us, their blades gleaming in the light.
How in the hell were we going to defeat them when we didn’t even have swords?
“Ice,” I managed to Rykr. “Use my powers.”
“I can’t do that. It weakens you more.” Rykr’s back was flat to mine. “And you’re fading. I can feel it.”
“Do it, Rykr. At least until we get a sword or two to balance the scales.”
A sudden flurry of activity interrupted the Skorn warriors’ steady progress toward us—one of the other sentenced jumped out from behind a rock, seeking to use the element of surprise.
One Skorn warrior turned in an instant, his blade slicing through the air with precision … and cutting straight through the attacker’s neck. The man’s head fell back, a bright stain of crimson jetting from his body as it fell forward, onto the mud of the basin.
“Do it now, Rykr!” I cried out, then lunged away, hurtling toward the Skorn. We’d never survive if we didn’t get weapons.
“Fuck!” Rykr yelled. Ice then shot out from his hands, shooting like daggers and impaling three of the Skorn closest to me. My knees collapsed as my power left me. I hit the rock and dirt, my consciousness teetering.
The stunned crowd cheered at the display of ice, the bodies of the dead Skorn thudded against the ground, and my friends bolted forward.
Scraping myself up, I blinked numbly as a Skorn lunged for me.
Tara met him with a roar, her blade flashing as it collided with his in a shower of sparks. The metallic scream of steel against steel rattled through my skull. Rykr was a shadow beside her, fast and lethal, his fist connecting with a warrior’s jaw with a sickening crack that echoed through the arena.
Amahle dove for a fallen sword, her movements swift and precise, and drove it into an enemy’s side with a grunt.
I tried to move, to fight, but my legs wouldn’t budge. The pain in my chest spread through me fully, gnawing at my strength. Through the blur of battle another Skorn warrior approached, his spear aimed straight for my heart, his eyes cold and unfeeling.
Before I could even raise my arms in defense, Rykr was there. He moved like a storm, his growl tearing through the chaos as he tackled the man to the ground. They struggled, bodies twisting in the dirt, until Rykr wrenched the spear from the warrior’s grip and drove it through his chest with a brutal, final thrust. He pulled the spear out, then pressed it into my hands.
“You’re not dying on me, Seren.” His voice was a raw, desperate whisper. “Get up. Get moving.” He lifted a fallen sword and stood at my side, his handsome face splattered with blood, his eyes fierce and unrelenting.
I barely had the strength to stand. My vision swayed, dark spots creeping in at the edges, my limbs felt sluggish and unresponsive. But I couldn’t fall again. If I fell, I would never get back up.
