Page 439 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Terror sluiced through my veins a beat before that same sound echoed from behind me.

Sucking down a breath, I bolted, not bothering to look back.

The monsters were climbing from the earth in front of the other gates.

I didn’t need to look to know what loomed behind me. But there were bows in the center. Bows, arrows, and crossbows. Axes. Spears. Distance weapons were suddenly very, very worth the bloodbath.

A male scream had my eyes flicking sideways in time to see one of the big fuckers go down—pinned between granite pincers and clacking legs.

Fuck that shit. I hit the weapon pit at a dead sprint, dropping into a slide that ripped the skin up my thigh just as something cold grazed my neck.

I snatched a spear from the pile. Whirled and jabbed⁠—

Into the gaping mouth of a screaming spider monster.

I screamed back, eyes wide as I watched green venom drip onto the spear. The thing collapsed, and I sucked down a breath, scrambling backward as its mammoth body came down over half the stash.

Panting, my eyes snapped up to the three remaining humans, the spiders herding them into corners.

Fucking sick.

What the fuck was this shit?

What kind of sick motherfucker used fucking monsters as a proving ground for their people? This was fucking bullshit and fuck Moros for thinking⁠—

Moros. My eyes snapped up to where he sat leering while a beast had the scrawny bitch pinned. I grabbed a spear. Stood. Took a running start and hurled the thing with every scrap of my strength, sending it cracking through the beast’s skull.

It screamed—a screeching, deafening, inhuman sound—and scuttled around to find its attacker.

Look at me, motherfucker.

The scrawny girl’s brown eyes snapped to mine, flashing with something.

But I didn’t have time to give a shit because not only did her monster charge, so did another.

“Goddamnit,” I muttered, glancing over the stash and thinking I’d snag an axe once the spears were gone. I decided if I made it through this, I’d shove one of these blades through Moros’ fucking throat for laughing at us down here dying.

I knew there was a reason I didn’t fucking like that man.

The beasts were descending, and I launched another spear, cursing when I missed. The next one hit true, but the thing kept coming⁠—

Until an axe embedded in its fucking skull from my right.

A quick glance—the blond man.

There was no time to respond as I whirled, lancing another with a well-aimed throw.

And then it was the three of us, wordlessly converging in the center of the arena beside the largest carcass and the weapon pit, our backs together as they descended. The enemy of my enemy, I guessed.

“Work together to bring them down one at a time,” I barked.

“Sounds good to me,” the man panted in a slanted baritone.

I should’ve known where he came from but couldn’t place it, so I tucked that voice away for later.

“Fine,” the little bitch panted, her voice like the slither of a serpent over sand. “You draw its focus and we go for the legs. I’ll get under the belly.”

“On three,” I agreed. Nobody counted, but I felt them move when I did. The blond bellowed a battle cry, his footsteps thudding further behind me as I lunged forward, swinging for its front leg. It screamed before I took it out at the joint. The scrappy little fucker sprinted under the thing, impaling it from below a beat before I hacked into another joint.