He brought his hand down on Senek once more, and this time he drew magic into it.
All of it.
Senek screamed as Minox pulled every bit of energy he could, dissolving the magic blade.
“No!” Senek screamed. He grabbed Minox’s hand. “You don’t deserve this!”
He tried to draw and take control of the hand, but Minox pushed back.
Too hard. No control.
The energy burst forth, throwing Minox away from Senek and knocking them both on the ground.
“More! More!” Crenaxin shouted from the platform. “The fuel is in the false church! Tear it down! Take them all! Bring them to me!”
All the beasts howled, and then charged at the church, where Jerinne Fendall stood alone on the steps, ushering the last civilians through the door.
The beasts all went right to her.
Dayne had never been hit so hard as he was by Gurond. Even though he blocked every blow with the shield, each punch still knocked Dayne back.
“Pendall!” Dayne urged. “You don’t have to be a part of this.”
“Why do you call me that?” Gurond said, continuing to hammer on Dayne. Dayne didn’t know how long he could stand it, how long before the shield would be dented into nothing, but he would hold. Every moment Gurond was focused on him, he wasn’t hurting anyone else. Keep his attention while the others saved the children, stopped the machine.
“It’s your name,” Dayne said between blows. “You are Pendall Gurond. Son of Lord Gurond of Itasiana. Born to a noble house.”
“Noble?” Gurond shouted. “Gurond is not noble!” He slammed both fists on Dayne, knocking him to his knees. “Our name is nothing now. Nothing!”
Gurond raised up his arms wide, showing his great full height, his sinewy, shiny body. He laughed, which sounded bizarre with his gruff voice and over-toothed mouth.
“Make it noble again,” Dayne said. “You still can.”
“I am only this now,” Gurond said.
“You are still a man,” Dayne implored. “No matter what was done to you, that remains true. You are a man that can reason. You can choose.”
Gurond grabbed Dayne’s shield and wrenched it from his arm. “I choose the Brotherhood.”
“Even after—”
Gurond’s massive fist pounded into Dayne’s face, knocking him to the cobblestone.
“I was near dead,” Gurond said. “I remember it all now. The Thorn nearly killed me. Senek saved me. Made me stronger. Better.”
Dayne pushed himself up, spitting out blood. “You aren’t better. Better is standing up for something.”
Another punch knocked him down. “You aren’t standing.”
“I will keep getting up,” Dayne said. “And when I can’t, someone else will.”
“No,” Gurond said, hammering another punch onto Dayne. “You will all stay down.”
“This city . . .” Dayne said, forcing his arms to push himself to his knees. “Is full of people who will stand up to you.”
“I only see the cowering, the hiding,” Gurond said. “The fear.”
“We . . . will . . .”
Gurond smashed him down to the ground again. “You have no ‘we.’ Just you, lonely Tarian.” Gurond grabbed Dayne by the front of his uniform and raised him high in the air. “And now you will die alone.”
He hurled Dayne down, to smash him on the cobblestone. But Dayne didn’t hit the ground, instead he was cradled and protected, then pulled out of the way before Gurond’s massive fists smashed onto him.
Pulled away and deposited on his feet by a rope.
“Hey, Gurond,” the Thorn said, landing next to Dayne, staff in hand. “Thought we should have one more dance before the party ended.”
“Get the doors shut!”
Jerinne slammed into one beast with her shield, knocking it out of the church doorway. She pushed with her shield, holding it against the wall, while the last two children ran inside.
The creature swiped at her, its claws raking into her side. She cried out, stumbling away from it, and it dashed into the church. She pressed one hand onto the wound, hot blood seeping through her fingers. Saints, it was deep. It didn’t matter. Those children—all the civilians in the church—would be slaughtered by that thing. And she would stand between them and harm, no matter the cost.
Step by agonizing step, she pushed her way into the narthex. The beast howled and was about to grab one of the children.
“Not today!”
A grizzled old man, bald with a shaggy beard, charged up on the creature, battering it with an army mace. He slammed it again and again, while it clawed at his arms. Jerinne raised up her sword and drove it into the beast as hard as she could, just as it closed its massive maw on the old man’s head. Both the creature and the old man fell over, dead.
Jerinne looked back outside. At least five more creatures were galloping up the church steps. With the last bit of strength she had, she pushed the massive church door shut. She threw down the wooden bar to latch it just as the beasts slammed into it, making it shudder at the hinges.
“You’re hurt.”
A Cloistress of the Blue was there, taking Jerinne’s arm, leading her away from the door, as the beasts howled and pounded on it.
“Barely a scratch,” Jerinne lied. She forced herself to stay on her feet, but dropped her shield. “That door isn’t going to hold. Get inside and shut the door to the narthex. I’ll hold it here.”
“You won’t survive,” the cloistress said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jerinne said. “I’ll stand between you and them.”
“You won’t survive,” the cloistress said again. She pulled Jerinne over to the bell tower entrance. “But you have to survive. You aren’t supposed to be here, this isn’t your place.”
“My place—ow!” The cloistress had torn open Jerinne’s tunic to look at the wound.
“It’s deep. You need to—you need—” The cloistress took a few steps away, looking around the narthex. “Why are you even here, this isn’t . . . you were supposed to be at the chapterhouse . . . no . . . at the opera house . . . but if you didn’t go there, if . . . if . . . if . . .” She started pounding on her own head.
Jerinne didn’t have time for this nonsense. The cloistress needed to get out of here. She tried to reach
