He charged into the room, only to have his head depart his shoulders as Patrulha deftly struck him down. Her sword severed the armor as if it were passing through smoke.
Other strange soldiers poured forth. Some wore ebony uniforms and wielded gleaming swords. Others looked more like ill-tempered mercenaries. They were clearly after something. But what? Were they here to capture Stellan?
Patrulha whirled about, a demon of combat. Her sword clashed with those of the enemy, sometimes battling two or three at a time. Entranced, Clarysa watched as Patrulha effortlessly dispatched all who attempted to breach the door. Armored bodies began to pile up near the entrance, a testament to her prowess.
More enemy soldiers came. The fighting intensified. Blood coated the floor, creating hazardous footing. The number of angry voices outside seemed to increase a hundredfold. The fighting seemed like it would never end. Should she seek out Stellan? No. She would only become a liability if found.
Maybe she should have given up her royal status long ago. If she were more like Patrulha, she could have contributed something meaningful to this quest. Now she was only a burden, like a gangrenous limb. A gangrenous limb who had insisted on tagging along with no clear plan. Idiot.
By the entrance, the Captain was locked in mortal combat with a soldier who had forsworn head armor for a menacing facial tattoo. The enemy’s meaty hand tightened about Patrulha’s neck as he held her against the wall. His sword arm poised dangerously at her midsection.
Patrulha’s face grew red. Sweat-dampened hair plastered her cheeks. She struggled violently and then bared her teeth in a snarl. A well-timed kick to the man’s midsection loosened his death grip. Patrulha then delivered a series of punches that sent him to his knees, followed by a powerful blow from her sword. Clarysa glanced away as the man’s severed head dropped to the floor.
Panting hard, Patrulha wiped her blade clean on the soldier’s clothing. Then she looked toward the open doorway and froze. Clarysa followed the line of her gaze, then clamped a hand to her mouth.
The woman from her dream stood in the doorway.
A lavender cloak draped the woman’s supple figure. She regarded Patrulha with green eyes as vivid as Stellan’s. Her onyx hair had been trussed into a sleek bun.
Stellan’s sister! Clarysa found the resemblance troublesome and eerie. What was she doing here?
A flowing purple flame appeared to hover about her form, yet never touched her. The air reeked as if sulfur and flesh had been ignited together in one awful melange. From her vantage point, Clarysa could only see Patrulha’s back, but she had an unobstructed view of the sorceress in all her preternatural power. No wonder the soldiers had been able to breach the magickal barrier. This sorceress must have destroyed it.
Stellan’s sister took a nimble step forward, but stopped as Patrulha blocked her path, sword upraised. The sorceress sighed, her expression one of grace and malice combined. “I might choose a different strategy if I were you.”
Patrulha flexed her hands, tightening her grip. “You have no business here, Sada.”
“Come now, Captain. Are all gypsies as arrogant and stupid as you?” Faster than the human eye could follow, she flicked her wrist in a circular pattern, leaving the air about her boiling in shadow and thunder.
But except for the slight vibration of Patrulha’s sword, nothing happened. The Captain uttered a low and confident laugh. “Now I remember why I had to have this blade–to cleave snotty bitches like you in half!”
Sada laughed merrily, as though they were two friends gossiping. “Well, I see the kitten brought her own toys!”
The sorceress advanced. Patrulha glanced quickly in the direction of Clarysa’s hiding place and then leaped over the ruined wall. Sada followed her outside, gliding over the rubble on some kind of magickal force. Clarysa changed position to see them better.
The sorceress’s eyes flashed a brighter green. The air about them darkened. Unearthly sounds shrieked from their hateful realms, as Sada’s visage contorted into impossible forms. Multicolored shards of death rained down upon Patrulha, but her sword drew them from harm’s way. The Captain of the Guard grunted. The acrid air about her continued to pop and sputter as the two combatants locked horns again.
Sada waved an arm. A black, shapeless mass rose from the ground. Bizarre creatures swam within it–a cluster of scaly tentacles with barbed ends, creatures with snapping claws, soul-sucking ghouls. Sada flicked a finger. The roiling mass enveloped Patrulha, spinning around her like a vortex.
Grimacing, Patrulha slowly rotated her sword. The enchanted weapon began to absorb the mass.
Clarysa was distracted by a figure appearing at the gap in the wall. She choked back a cry of relief and waved for Lionel’s attention. He jumped over the rubble and ran to her side. “Clarysa! You don’t know how overjoyed I am to see you! Are you all right?”
Clarysa nodded as she clung to him.
“We arrived a short time ago,” he whispered in her ear. “Rainier and I and a few others tracked the saberwolf creature to this place. During our approach, we spotted these intruders skulking about the building.” Lionel wrinkled his nose. “Men from the Wastes, most likely. Beastly lot, if you ask me.” He smiled reassuringly. “We took care of the ones outside.” He pointed to Sada. “Except for her. Stay here. I’m going to offer my assistance.” Lionel rose in the direction of the dueling pair.
Clarysa held him back. “No, you mustn’t! That woman is a sorceress. You’ll have absolutely no defense against her. She’ll kill you before you could even draw your sword!”
Lionel’s facial muscles twitched as he considered her warning. The air continued to crackle about the two. Then he crouched back down. “I daresay you’re right.”
They resumed watching, for it was the only action they
