Page 137 of The Exquisite Torment of Loving Your Enemy

“They are, and we will be taking them back.”

The lead Dreor spoke to Verity. “You decide how many at Swanstone die today, Warden. If you step aside, it needn’t be everyone.”

“Do you really think you can defend Swanstone, with only eight of you here?” asked another Dreor with a teasing lilt. “Where are your spear-sisters, Warden?”

“Eight of us and how many of you?” asked Verity.

More Dreor climbed over the breach in answer. Forty? Fifty? Aurienne pressed her hands to her mouth. The numbers were not in the Wardens’ favour.

“Allof us,” said the lead Dreor. “We’ve come to reclaim our family.”

“Fria,” whispered Corinne to Aurienne, “they sent the whole Order.”

Haven hefted her spear. “Then the Dreor Order goes extinct today.”

Verity turned to the Haelan. “You focus your tacn on the wightlings. Leave the Dreor to us. You cannot hurt them through that armour. And theycanhurt you.” She pivoted back to the Dreor. “It will be an honour to send you to Hel.”

“Make me immortal,” said Haven to Cath with a wink, before slamming her helmet shut.

“Gods,” breathed Aurienne. The Wardens were severely outnumbered. And the Dreor were not brainless wightlings. They had serious offensive abilities within that grinning tacn. Not only the haemokinesis, but the withering touch, which mummified upon contact. And their scythes—

The fight turned instantly nasty. Wardens snared Dreor into their wards and whipped them apart ragefully. The Dreor scythes snaked out to pull Wardens within the reach of their foul tacn. Black seith hissed against blinding, electric blue.

Whenever one of the Wardens was injured, she fell back, and ten Haelan tacn were on her.

More wightlings crept over the fallen wall, but were dispatched by enraged Haelan before they could reach the Warden line. Always, more were behind.

Scythes crossed spears. One Dreor surged ahead too quickly for Solace to cast her next ward. His scythe caught her under the chin. Her light shield faltered. He pulled her in and knocked off her helmet. He pressed his tacn to her face. She atrophied instantly and fell to the ground, grey-faced. Dead.

The Dreor who did it was ribboned by Haven’s wards and made into bloody paste. Haven fell back to Aurienne, who pressed her tacn to her and replenished her seith.

Black seith surged towards Ataraxia from three Dreor. They overpowered her light shield and caught her in haemokinesis.

“No,” breathed Aurienne.

Ataraxia was made into a puppet and forced to impale herself on her own spear. Four Dreor were pulverised in retribution by Tenet and Verity as Haelan dragged the gored Ataraxia away.

How many Wardens had fallen? Two? Three? It was too many. That deadly black seith—

Aurienne gasped as she realised that there was a solution at hand.

“Where are you going?” cried Nym as Aurienne sprinted away.

“To Felicette,” said Aurienne. “Keep the Wardens topped up. Don’t get killed.”

Felicette, the Ingenaut, was at the top of the ramparts. She had pulled out the massive seith capacitors that powered Swanstone’s equipment. She and the Haelan near her were launching them at wightlings as bombs. They were getting a twenty- or thirty-foot radius from each.

Aurienne found Felicette breathlessly updating someone’s deofol. Her Order’s Head, Birtwhistle, by the sound of it. The deofol disappeared.

“My Order is coming,” said Felicette to Aurienne. “They’re bringingrealexplosives.”

“Felicette—the serum,” said Aurienne, clutching the Ingenaut’s arm.

“The serum? What serum?”

“The occlusion serum. We’ve got to use it. Block the Dreor’s seith.”

“You—you want to weaponise it?” asked Felicette, looking at Aurienne as though an Agannor must have possessed her.