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“Trees,” she choked out.
Yes, Rathmort had chosen this location with strict purpose. The dagger thorn trees that grew here would damage him if he transformed, causing serious lacerations and weakening him before the fight even began, which was why he had to resist the nearly overwhelming urge to shift.
“You don’t recognize me?” Orik taunted, gaze darting between Rathmort and his crew who were ominously gathering power. The stink of magic billowed all around.
Rathmort cocked his head, studying Orik. “Of course. You are the head of the King’s guard. I know all my enemies.”
“You’re wrong about that. I know your name because I’m the one who gave you that scar.”
Rathmort’s eyes widened, first with shock, then with seething hatred. “The one that got away.”
“I’m here to finish the job. Let her go and fight me, one on one, and let’s see who walks away alive this time.”
At that, Rathmort shouted to his people, “Kill him!”
* * *
Jessie screamed when the group of witches began bombarding Orik with deadly magic. Several wielded what looked like electric whips, slashing at his skin or wrapping his limbs to capture him in place while others blasted him with powerful destructive spells. Despite being outnumbered, he retaliated with awesome speed and strength. Yanking on his restraints, he pulled one of them forward and then smashed his big meaty fist into the male’s face with an audible crunch. The man instantly dropped, whether dead or merely unconscious, Jessie couldn’t tell, but there were so many more to take his place…she likened the scene to a hornet with its wings clipped trying to fend off a swarm of deadly ants.
He needed his wings.
The scuffle disturbed the leaves on the ground, and her Ka-Bar was no longer visible. Frantically, she searched for a hint of its location.
Rathmort’s chokehold eased up, and she could breathe more easily now. Her glyph had stopped burning, which made her wonder if he wasn’t paying much attention to his captive, thinking her subdued. Damsel in distress wasn’t her natural setting. Usually she was dialed in somewhere between adventurous and reckless, yet clever. She was the cat and the fox. But right now, she was cranked all the way up to furious bitch—strike that, furiouswitch—and she felt her magic unfurrowing inside her.
Orik roared as those whips snared his arms and legs, pulling taut, each one wielded by a different witch. She caught the scent of burning flesh and saw his skin sizzle where the magic made contact.
Adrenaline shot through her bloodstream like a high-caliber bullet.
In a practiced move, thanks to her father and his buddies showing her a few down and dirty tips in this position, she yanked her body to the left ninety degrees, putting her perpendicular to Rathmort and relieving the pressure on her throat immediately. Then she swept her left leg back behind Rathmort, using her thigh to put tension on the back of his knees, and then rammed her elbow hard into his sternum. He grunted and fell back over her leg, unable to catch himself. At the same time, she made a kind of bowing motion to slip out from under his compromised headlock. He hit the ground, gasping and clutching his chest.
Freed, she dropped to the ground, madly digging through the leaves for her Ka-Bar.
Rathmort spat out a sound of irritation and pushed to his feet, coming at her once more. Jessie knew he wouldn’t let his guard down again. If he got hold of her this time, he would overpower her, either with his strength or magic. And then pain would ensue.
She rolled over and faced him on the ground, caught in a position no one should be in when attacked. Expression murderous, he gathered magic in his palm.
Suddenly something in the trees caught her attention. A brindled stream of color ghosted from one branch to another, darting like lightning and deftly weaving through the deadly thorns. At first Jessie thought it was some kind of hazardous spell that she would need to brace for. Then she heard a familiar hiss seconds before Phoenix launched herself teeth first at Rathmort. He had only enough time to raise his arms in defense.
Jaws clamping around his forearm, Phoenix used her claws to lock her body around his now bleeding limb, chomping away at his flesh. The sound of bones cracking echoed. Rathmort let out a blood-curdling howl of pain and tried to shake Phoenix off, but it only made the lema’s sharp teeth dig in deeper. Blood dripped down his flesh, sprinkling the bed of dark dry leaves at his feet.
Far off in the distance, she heard the faint thunder of what sounded like a fleet of dragons. Were they mobilizing? Did they know their location? Would they get here in time?
Meanwhile, those electric whips had become sizzling ropes around Orik’s arms, legs, and torso, pulling his limbs taut and preventing his mighty fists from doing any more damage. He was rendered helpless as several witches doled out punishing attacks that he was incapable of dodging. He bellowed in pain after every brutal strike, the sound tearing through Jessie’s heart. His blood, too, splattered the ground around him.
She only had a few seconds to assess Orik’s dire situation before her attention was drawn back to Rathmort and Phoenix, still grappling. Another horrible snapping sound rang out, but Rathmort seemed to block out the pain. With a furious gaze aimed at Phoenix, he began pulling power into his palm once more…
Jessie’s stomach dropped. Everything was happening so fast, only scant seconds had passed, and she had no time to react. She barely managed to suck in a breath for a soul-deep, devastating scream. Everything she loved was about to be ripped away from her once more.
But just as Rathmort was about to blast Phoenix with what was undoubtedly the same killing spell as before, Phoenix released her hold and darted away so fast she was yet again nothing but a trailing blur. The virulent magic shot the ground instead, gouging a crater into the soil.
Once more, Phoenix moved with mind-boggling speed, nearly untraceable, reappearing at Rathmort’s feet and this time sinking her deadly fangs into his thigh.
Jessie resumed her search, desperate to find her Ka-Bar. It was the only weapon she knew how to wield.
Snarling half from pain and half from rage, Rathmort’s hand shot down to grab Phoenix by the tuft of her neck and wrench her off him, tearing away a hunk of his own flesh in the process. He barely flinched. Holding Phoenix aloft, squirming and growling, spitting and clawing air, Rathmort called his magic again. This time little Phoenix would not get away.
Fingers buried in chilly soil and crunchy leaves, Jessie could only watch in static horror, her brain ordering so many actions at once that she was trapped in a disturbing inertia of indecision. Panic turned to cement in her veins.
