Page 44 of On Brutal Thrones

Fenric catches me with one arm, his spear held in the other hand. Beside us, Talon staggers but stays on his feet, staring down at the blood swirling around his legs.

Again.

“Getting tired of doing that,” he pants.

“Imagine how I feel.”

I’m shaking, but we keep moving.

Minutes stretch by until I lose any sense of how long we’ve been out there. Maybe an hour. Maybe several. The opposite shore never seems to get closer.

My arms ache from swinging my dagger. My legs burn from fighting the pull of the blood. Sweat pours down my face, and my leathers cling wetly to my skin.

Blood is everywhere. It’s in my hair, across my face, beneath my fingernails. Somehow, it even gets into my mouth. I spit, but the metallic taste remains against my tongue.

And beneath all of it, the field keeps beating.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

It feels faster now. I don’t know if it actually is or if my own heartbeat has begun matching it. Then I notice Talon. He hasn’t said anything in a long time.

“Talon?”

A bat dives toward him. Talon catches it with one hand and drives his dagger into its chest. He tears the blade free and lets the creature fall without even watching where it lands.

He doesn’t look at me.

“Talon?”

“I’m fine.”

The words are clipped and empty.

He fights differently now too. Usually, there’s an almost infuriating grace to everything Talon does. He enjoys showing off. He twists out of attacks he could simply avoid, makes comments while he fights, smiles when he knows he has the advantage.

All of that is gone. Now every movement has a purpose. Grab. Stab. Release. Move on.

His expression remains carefully blank no matter what lands on him. Blood coats his hands and streaks his face. A red line runs from his temple to his jaw, and he never wipes it away.

When Fenric calls his name, Talon only nods.

When Thorian orders him left, he moves left.

No jokes. No complaints. Barely any words at all.

I hate it. I almost prefer the monsters.

Eventually, a patch of green appears beyond the endless red. Trees. Real trees. Solid earth.

My chest tightens. “There!”

Fenric sees it too.

The sight gives all of us new energy. We push harder, forcing our exhausted legs through the muck. The blood is shallower here, falling from my calves toward my ankles.