I round on him, stealing his gaze with a scowl.This is no time for weakness.“Youhatevampires. You’ve always said it,” I hiss. “Now there’s an army for you to freely plunge your silver saber into, to raze the damned place to the ground. And you’re . . .reconsidering? Where’s the Lukain I’ve known all these years?”The one who killed an innocent slave boy for asking the wrong question—for even bringing up the vampires in Olhav you loathe so badly?“Where’s your heartlessness, Master Lukain?”
He blinks, averting his gaze from the rabble below to my angry face. “You’ve changed me, little grimmer.”
“Well it’s time to change back.” I jab with my longsword into the distance. “Imis is down there!”
His voice is hushed. “She’s just one girl, Sephania.”
“SO AM I!”
My sudden scream startles him, quieting the rustling boots and armor behind us. It’s not good for soldiers to watch leadership argue, but it has to be said. It has to be done out in the open.
Lukain peers at me with his pale face, the small scar running across his brow, the deeper one lynched across his neck, his gray-red eyes, his effortless facial features twisting with concern. “She is just a girl.Youare the universe.”
I clench my jaw. “I know you would burn the world down to save me if I was down there, Lukain. Imis doesn’t have a Skartovius or a Vallan or a Garroway. She has no one. She’s alone, lost, and terrified. Do this for me. Burn the world downfor her!”
Lukain does nothing for a moment. His jaw bunches, flexing, unflexing, eyes narrowing. Then his gaze veers from my features to the mob of rebels behind us, lower down on the peak.
He draws his father’s silver saber, an emblem of the Silverknights of old, which makes all of Rirth’s men stiffen and listen closely. Our regiment quiets, staring at him as he steps forward.
“Follow me down into the pits of hell, won’t you? Don’t be fearful, don’t be stupid, and don’t be a hero. Stick with the man or woman to your left and right if you get trapped in the fog, and push out of it together. Listen to your leaders and we will survive this night. We do this for Nuhav. We spill this blackened blood for the innocents among us, stolen for the last time by vile animals! Tonight, we put those animals down!”
As far as motivational speeches go, I’d put it on a lower rung of the ladder. It’s short and sweet, and at the very least it gets the soldiers cheering.
Swords are drawn from scabbards, Rirth lined up in front of his men. We give each other nods, and he mutters, “See you on the other side, Hellwhore.”
“See you at the cathedral, Captain Rirth. Last one there’s a coward.”
He scoffs, flaring his nostrils at the challenge, tilting a smile at me.
Lukain takes the position to my right, Garroway to my left. We’ve already discussed flanks and charging order and logistics. The last obstacle was getting our boots to slop down the hillside.
With a tiny smirk, Lukain slaps my ass, and I yelp. “Youarevery persuasive, you know, little grimmer.”
Then we charge like bastards into the green pit of hell.
My longsword slices into the vampiress’ face, disconnecting her jaw and sending it flying. She looks more skeleton than woman, with drooping, mummified breasts jostling on a naked, slender frame as she careens to the left. Black sludge oozes from her maw, only the top half of her mouth remaining as she hisses at me and staggers forward.
All these motherfuckers, that’s what they do: They stagger. There seems no rhyme or reason behind their jerky movements, their crowing sounds, their vicious indifference to the battle going on around them.
It’s a pitched, loud, confusing affair. Somewhere in the fog, Rirth and I became unattached. We had been sawing through vampires with expert efficiency to start, but the deeper into the valley city we go, the more alone I feel.
I push back with my boot, putting space between us, knocking her into the green fog. I see her hands and yellow dirt-encrusted nails before anything else, coming right back at me. Sweeping low, I slash across her heel, hamstringing her and sending her flopping face-first onto the cracked cobbles.
Still she comes, crawling, wheezing, bleeding a trail of dark goop in her wake.
Garroway rushes past me, stomping on the vampiress’ neck with a grotesquecrunch.She stops moving, crying out in that guttural way but no longer able to use her spine.
Another one is coming in, so I forget about the jawless bitch and spin to meet this one head-on.
Garro is there first, sliding onto his knees, rolling, and coming up ripping his daggers across the beast’s thighs. Blood spurts and he twirls onto his feet, stabbing viciously into the vampire’s back before it can turn—once, twice, four times in rapid succession. Somewhere during the fervent slaughter, he digs deep enough into the thing’s lungs to stab at the heart.
The vampire drops immediately, its skin already beginning to peel away from its loose bones and flutter away like an ashen snowfall.
My dhampir mate nods to me, the jovial expression on his face replaced by firmed lips and a menacing scowl. He dashes into the fog and I follow after him, listening closely for where the cries of battle are coming from.
We’ve cleared three streets and made progress. Glancing over my shoulder, I see how distant the hillside looks now—the one we charged down—jutting up past the fog and blocking our escape.
The only way through the Faith Ward isthroughit. If Skar’s or Vallan’s reinforcements to the east and west are carving their own line into the center where the cathedral lies, then we can use their cleared space for escape if necessary.