Vesma and Kumi took the rear, their familiar faces bearing expressions of battlelust.
As he rode the sand, Ganyir slammed one foot down extra hard on the sand. A Ground Strike rippled out in front of him, more powerful than any I’d seen so far. The whole world seemed to tremble with power. Dozens of soldiers were thrown from their feet. Buildings in the village shook, and one collapsed as it sent up a shower of sand.
A few feet from the army, Ganyir passed a boulder rising from the dunes. He slammed his fist into it, and the upper half of the rock exploded. A chunk went sailing into the soldiers, pulverizing three, severing the limbs of others, and breaking their line. Then, he was in among them, swinging to left and right. As weapons came at him, he blocked them with armored forearms or grabbed the hands that wielded them and tore the limbs from their sockets.
Tahlis and the initiates followed Ganyir into the fray. Weapons clashed, and sand flew as they went at the enemy with both magical and mundane attacks. Kumi flowed between the soldiers using the ancient martial arts of the Qihin. Her twin daggers flashed in the sunlight as she sought weak points and gaps in soldiers’ armor, slipping in and out of reach like the surging of the tide. Vesma blasted the ground with Untamed Torch and rose into the air before she sent fireballs into the masses behind the enemy’s frontlines.
Pressed from three directions at once, the Hyng’ohr lines fractured. The battle descended into a chaotic melee, with the two sides swirling around each other in small knots of action. As Kegohr and I broke the line and forced the soldiers back, we were drawn deeper into the village, among the sand-covered houses and half-fallen buildings.
I’d seen cultists among the houses earlier, but I could see no sign of them now. But it didn’t mean they weren't there, hiding and waiting for the right moment to strike.
I summoned an Ash Cloud around a group of soldiers, and the cold, black dust billowed around them like a falling storm. As they gasped and choked, blinded and struggling for air, I went in with the Sundered Heart Blade. Nydarth moaned an exalted note as I ran one through. Blood stained my hands as I cut another’s legs out from under him. A third attempted to sneak up behind me, but I whirled around and punched him in the face with the hilt of my weapon. His nose fractured, and half his face caved in before he dropped to the ground.
Kegohr was in a frantic frenzy, the combination of Wild magical power and hatred for cults having finally overcome him. He roared and charged around the village, smashing soldiers and sometimes chunks of wall that got too close.
“Swordslinger!” Targin bellowed. He was still standing on a rooftop, with four warriors in Steadfast Horn Guild colors gathered behind him. “Come and face me!”
Tahlis popped up out of the sand beside me, his blood-stained spear in his hands.
“Those are Targin’s personal bodyguards,” he said as he pointed to the warriors on the roof. “Augmenters, cult disciples, and once initiates of the guild. I taught them, and I can tell you, there’s a reason Targin chose those four. They’re as effective as they are cruel.”
He vanished back into the sand only to pop up a moment later amid a cluster of surprised soldiers. He attacked them with his spear and blasted with Sandstorms. A mischievous grin never left his face.
“I see that you’re everything I heard, Swordslinger!” Targin shouted. “Hiding behind half-breeds and women. I think it’s time to change that. I’ll cut down every one of them, and then, I’ll deal with you.”
He jumped off the rooftop and started running through the battle. His target was clear—Kumi and Vesma, fighting at the edge of the village.
I’d only just met him, but I was already sick of his bullshit. He was a petty, posturing, arrogant asshole. But from what the others had said, I also knew that he was a deadly warrior and a powerful Augmenter, one who could be a real threat to my friends.
I ran after him, determined not to let him get to the others before I did. His guards fanned out behind him, looked all around, and spotted me. They spread out, ready to block my path.
As Targin ran, the fight eddied around him. A pair of combatants staggered out from behind a house, their weapons locked together, grappling for dominance. One was a Hyng’ohr soldier, another nameless face in the crowd. But the other I instantly recognized—the gangling figure of Choshi. She had her back to Targin and didn’t see the false lord coming.
Targin swung his mace with both hands, and it smashed into the back of Choshi’s head with a sickening crack. There was a spray of blood, her neck bent at an impossible angle, and she collapsed to the ground.
“No!” I heard the word come tearing unbidden from my throat. I could do nothing but stand and stare at the body of the young woman I had taught, the reluctant leader who had found the courage to guide her friends out of the city and into our ragtag resistance band. She had struggled to find the right path, set on avenging her brother’s death, and now, it had all come to nothing.
No, not nothing. I would make sure that vengeance was had.
My pulse pounded like a war drum in my ears as I gripped my sword tight and went charging
