Page 292 of The Edge of Darkness

I staggered back. They hadn’t healed themselves during the attack in Benmoor. Or if they had, I never noticed. I hadn’t focused on what state they were in after I’d sent my light upon them.

The creature opened its poison-laced maw, baring its fangs as if it were smiling.

What the f⁠—

Silver flashed before me, and the creature’s eyes flared just before its head toppled from its body. When I looked up, Remic was standing there, sword still poised on its downswing. His daggers were back at his sides. He’d opted for his longsword for this kill. He was breathing heavily, eyes flaming red, head on a swivel as he scanned the immediate area for more threats.

“They heal themselves now?” I asked.

“Not after you cut their heads off.” He kicked the beast’s head out of the way, then met my stare. “You all right?”

I nodded, glancing around.

Silas was a few paces away, thrusting ash into a shadow being’s face while Saxon ran it through with his sword. Roirdan had found Morah and was practically back to back with her, fending off a horde of beasts.

“There’s so many of them,” I said, noting just how many varieties of creatures Lyceius actually had. Some were familiar, like the felines we’d first faced in Benmoor, and the keres. Others were like walking corpses harboring needlelike spikes in various places on their bodies—spikes I was almost certain were riddled with poison. Then there were the ones that looked the most human. Their bodies were slender, starved, but their muscle tone was strangely over-prominent, contradicting their stature. They were like living death, like demons from another realm, with twisted faces and hollow eyes.

A warrior from Vahrenhall confronted one, thinking it would be an easy kill. To his surprise, the creature out-maneuvered him in two moves. The fae took a hit to the face, dropping his weapon as he crashed to the ground. The creature snatched up the fallen sword, but just as he was poised to sink it into the fae’s chest, another fae—an archer from Elandrew—shoved a dagger into his back. A screech split the air. The Elandrian archer pushed the body off his weapon with his boot and heaved a breath of victory, offering a hand to his Vahrish comrade.

They had just grabbed a hold of each other when another demon-like being, one that was much taller and far more sinister-looking, bashed the archer’s head in from behind.

The air whooshed out of me on a broken sound, and like an animal scenting the wind, the creature turned its head in my direction. I straightened, realizing his full attention was now on me.

A sickening crunch sounded as he sank a heel into the Vahrish soldier’s chest and then began stalking toward me, not deigning to look down at either of the mutilated fae.

I clutched my sword and took a readied stance.

I’d fought men his size, so this should have been no different—at least, that was what I tried to tell myself. But this . . . this was no man. This thing had blackened pits where its eyes should have been, and seemed unnaturally strong for its appearance.

A bludgeon the size of my head and covered in spikes swung in the creature’s right hand, slinging chunks of the archer’s brain matter with every rotation. As he drew closer, I saw that he bore a set of yellow scars across his bare chest. Three slashes, each in a line above the other. The markings of a rank—of a general, perhaps. I assumed he was someone of importance based on his size alone. The scars only seemed to confirm it.

It wasn’t until four others just like him fell into step with him that I realized swords and small blips of my power weren’t going to get us anywhere in this battle. Lyceius’s army had leadership, which meant they weren’t just an erratic mass of incompetent, vengeful beings. They were trained, powerful, and five of them—five considerably threatening figures—were closing in on me. As much as I had wanted to conserve my power for Lyceius, I was going to have to use some of it in the meantime.

I pushed my shoulders back, still gripping my sword, as I readied for my opponents to swarm. Then, boots scuffed the ground beside me. Remic and Silas stepped up to my right and left, swords drawn and dripping with blood, wings high and mighty.

The first general slowed, tilting his head in an animalistic way as he surveyed the three of us.

“I’ll take the one in the middle,” I said to my Dionachs.

“If you insist,” Silas replied, crossing the blades of his golden swords together and sending sparks scattering.

I glanced over at Remic, and to my surprise, he was smiling, fully—something I had never seen him do. But it was not a smile brought forth from joy or amusement. It was a threat, dripping with pure malice.

“No mercy,” he said.

“And no negotiations,” I added, repeating the phrase he always said.

The thin braid he had asked me to weave into his hair again this morning before battle hung near his temple. He wore it like a badge of honor, and it made me proud to see it. I took one last look at him, at his intensity, and matched it with my own before turning my attention back to the generals.

The way the first one lost interest in everyone else once he saw me made me think he had been instructed to look for me on the battlefield.

So I gave them the confirmation they needed.

My power ignited, and starlight radiated from behind my eyes.

The light enticed the creatures. Their slitted nostrils flared, teeth clicking as if they could taste my essence. They moved quicker than I anticipated for their size, closing the distance in a fury. Silas and Remic met the outliers head-on, while the centermost general aimed his bludgeon for my head. I ducked, swerving around his swing, flinging a stream of light at him, only for it to bounce off an invisible shield.

I took a step back, surprised.