A second banshee let out a scream I felt in every bone. It leapt over its fallen comrade, using its corpse as a bridge, and landed next to Alastair. He ducked beneath its claws, fell to one knee, and thrust upward. The banshee swiped with its other claw, but Alastair twisted, drawing the blade out and swinging it back in one motion. The banshee’s last scream fell silent as its head slid from its shoulders.
Akarra’s roar shook the earth. She swooped low and snapped up a third banshee in midair as it attempted the same leap as its fellow.
Movement in the corner of my eye. I tugged Leyda’s sleeve. Small gray-skinned creatures, all knobby arms and legs and marshfire eyes, swarmed over the bodies of their Tekari allies. Hagsprites! I grabbed her hand and dragged her sideways as one came hurtling through the boughs, narrowly missing our heads. We stabbed at the same time, but the creature dodged our knives and scuttled away, only to fall with a jerk and an arrow in its neck. Leyda crouched and readied her knife as more hagsprites crawled out of the ditch. I caught one down the shoulder, its dull silver blood spraying me, Leyda, and the tree behind us. I felt its shriek reverberating through the steel as it tried to claw itself free. A bloodred tongue snaked from its open mouth, long and thin as a whip as it lashed toward my face. I yanked my dagger free and ducked, just missing the stinging barbs on the underside of its tongue. My upstroke severed it, but not cleanly, and the hagsprite gurgled, spitting silver blood as it tried to flee, only to meet its end on Leyda’s blade.
She drew it out and lashed upward, managing another solid hit as a second hagsprite sprang for her throat. A thudding from the left drew my attention; the blacksmith beat back three at a time with his great hammer, mouth open in what I could only imagine was a fearsome war cry. Panting, Leyda shook her knife free from the hagsprite’s body and looked around, but there were no more hagsprites in our immediate vicinity.
I turned back to the field just in time to see another direwolf fall with a howl, an arrow protruding from its side. It stumbled into the trench, followed by Alastair’s blade. Akarra wheeled overhead and bellowed something that made him fall back. He looked over his shoulder and waved frantically toward the trees. I saw what he meant just in time.
“Get down!” I shouted, and pulled Leyda behind the trunk of the tree.
Akarra checked her flight at the west end of the pasture and dived, exhaling dragonfire as she followed the path of the trench. Flames filled the hollow like water, consuming wood, earth, and any Tekari within. The heat hit us like a battering ram as she flew by. Charred pine needles, blazing branches, and smoking clods of earth rained down through the trees. I slapped at the sparks that landed on Leyda’s sleeve, and together we stamped out the remaining debris that the damp ground hadn’t extinguished. We looked at each other over the steaming earth, both breathing hard. The sound of my own heartbeat rattled in my ears.
“Is it over?” Leyda mouthed.
I shook my head and pointed to Alastair. He stood as close as he dared to the trench, now a smoldering, smoking pit, his sword still at the ready. Akarra landed next to him. He said something and she nodded.
I touched Leyda’s shoulder. “Now it’s over.”
The sounds rushed back as I pulled the beeswax from my ears: the crackle of flames, the sizzle of burning flesh, the sighs and laughter from among the Manor-folk as they too saw the battle was won. The blacksmith came over and clapped me on the back.
“Good thinking with them diggings, Miss Aliza. And Miss Leyda, you’ve some mite o’ luck with a blade! Those little beasties didn’t hurt you, did they?”
Leyda shook her head. “We—”
“Look out!” the huntswoman cried. My hand was halfway back to the beeswax in my pocket when I saw it slinking out from the shadows of the trees: the gaunt, bloody form of the largest direwolf I’d ever seen. The silver hair along its spine stood straight up, and its eyes glowed green in the flickering light of the fire. Slowly its massive head swung from side to side, taking in the whole length of the pasture and the smoking ruin that was all that remained of its pack. Its gaze landed at last on Alastair. It lifted its snout to the darkening sky and howled.
Alastair raised his sword.
“Khela, that’s not wise,” Akarra warned. “Let me—”
“Rider!” the direwolf snapped. “I summon you as the ancient customs demand: on the honor of your bloodstained House, if it has any left. You alone and I alone and none to interfere. Face me! Face me and pay for what you’ve done!”
A stunned silence rolled out across the field, followed by a low growl from Akarra. Leyda looked from me to Alastair and back, her mouth very round. I heard Goryn Mauntell’s laughter in my ears and thought of his smile as he had delivered the same formal challenge in Rushless Wood. The tip of Alastair’s sword dipped. He looked over his shoulder and caught my eye. There was a question there, a question at once frightening and reassuring, and I swallowed hard, feeling suddenly the terrible weight of the decision he was offering me.
I nodded.
“Take me to him,” Alastair said to Akarra.
“Khela . . .”
“Take me to him, Akarra.”
She grunted. “Very well.”
He swung onto her back and she rose into the air, landing just beyond the smoldering ditch. “As you wish, direwolf,” Alastair said as he dismounted and drew his sword. “You and I and no other. My dragon will not interfere.”
“Good,” the direwolf growled, and lunged.
I covered my mouth as Alastair went down. The huntswoman notched another arrow, but before she could shoot he was up again, the direwolf’s jaws missing his shoulder by inches. His sword came down in a wide arc, slashing deeply along the wolf’s hindquarters. It howled in pain and spun, snapping. Alastair ducked again, but he was a half second too slow. The wolf hit him hard, throwing off his next stroke. The point of his sword swung wide and buried itself in the earth as he fell to one knee. Akarra started forward with a growl, but Alastair kicked up just as the direwolf sprang for him. Iron-shod boot connected with the creature’s jaw with a crunch I felt even from the distance. It whined and stumbled back. Alastair staggered upright and pulled his sword from the mud. For a minute they circled each other as each caught their breath, testing, feinting, and, I noted with horror, both limping.
“Master Daired! He’s hurt,” Leyda cried, and drew her knife. I pulled her back. “Aliza! Someone has to help him!”
“No! Let him do this.”
Alastair’s voice carried faintly from beyond the crackling embers, steady but stretched thin with pain. “Tell me, wolf,” he said. “Tell me where your pack was headed and I’ll give you a clean death.”
The direwolf gave a sharp, barking laugh. “You fool,” it panted. “You meddle in things you know nothing about.”
“Then tell me.”
“A great and ancient thing is stirring, something you have never dreamed of in your darkest nightmares. It has no name. It has no fears. It will conquer your kingdom and bring your people down to the dust where you belong, and it will begin in Edonarle.” Its mouth fell open, tongue lolling in a terrible predatory grin. “But you shall never see it. You will not leave this field alive.”
“We’ll see.”