The second beast shrieked in pain. Heads lifted. Eyes turned her way.
Yanking the sword free, Talisa twisted as the monster fell to the ground, then hurled her dagger at a third satyr who’d decided to charge.
Her dagger hit the beast between the eyes, the blade sinking deep. Blood squirted in every direction. He dropped to the ground with a thud. Scooping the second satyr’s sword from the dirt so she had a blade in each hand, she swung out with both, battling through the beasts who’d taken notice of her attack and were advancing fast.
Growls and snarls echoed around her as she kicked, swiveled, and struck out with both blades, taking down beast after beast as they closed in around her. They jerked back every time she made a kill, recoiling at her blades. It gave her a chance to fight her way through, to find and get closer to Zagreus in the sea of bodies.
Metal clanked again and again, melding with the squelch of blood and howls of pain. The scent of death rose up around her. She shuffled back. At her feet, she spotted Zagreus’s arm lying still and bloody against the ground.
“Get up!” she screamed, ducking under a swinging mace.
Zagreus’s arm twitched. She shoved her foot into the satyr on top of him, knocked the beast to the ground, then swung out at another satyr who seemed to fly out of nowhere toward her head.
A burn cut across her left arm. Her blade connected with flesh and bone, slicing right through the beast’s neck.
Godsdammit. He wasn’t helping.
“I can’t do this by myself!” she screamed, realizing two more were closing in fast.
Sweat dripped into her eyes, messing with her vision. She arced out with the blade in her left hand, catching one satyr at the chest. He howled. Blood squirted over her and the ground as he fell at her feet. She shuffled back again, closer to Zagreus. Another satyr hit her leg with his knife, the burn making her grunt and stumble.
Righting herself, she ground her teeth and swiveled, sinking her blade deep into the beast’s chest. Lifting her foot, she shoved the sole of her sandal into his groin and pushed, sending him flying as she yanked her blade free with a squelching sound that echoed all around her.
She didn’t get a chance to rest. Another satyr charged. She swung out again with both blades.
Her back ached. Her arms hurt. She’d been hit across the biceps and thigh, but she kept fighting. From the corner of her vision, she realized Zagreus was trying to push himself up from the ground. Trying to lift his hands and summon his powers to help.
She couldn’t get a good look at him—she was too distracted keeping the growling beasts back—but she could tell he was bloody and dirty and weak, his clothing shredded, his face swollen, and he seemed to be having trouble moving, as if every muscle caused him pain.
He was a god. He’d heal. So long as they got out of this. But she wouldn’t if he didn’t get his ass in gear soon.
While she’d taken down a good portion of the pack, there were still about twenty or so left, and from the murder in their eyes, she knew if they got smart and decided to charge all at once, her measly blades wouldn’t save her. They wouldn’t even come close.
“Do something, quick,” she yelled, swinging out again, panic pushing her voice higher, “or I’m going to fucking die! Is that what you want? You said you saved me in that club. Do it now!”
That seemed to light a fire inside him. He managed to shift into a sitting position without falling.
While she ducked under a blade and struck out again, he lifted both hands, closed his eyes, and muttered ancient words she barely heard amidst the growls and snarls and snaps.
Energy shot outward from his palms, striking the satyrs in front of him, igniting their bodies in flames. As their horrific screams rose up in the night air, he moved his hands apart, forming a semicircle of charred satyr bodies around them.
Talisa jerked toward the two remaining satyrs at Zagreus’s back who hadn’t been in the path of that energy. Both of their eyes flew wide, but instead of charging, they sprinted into the trees and disappeared in the darkness.
The air grew still as the bodies around them burned to ash and smoked.
Holy hell…
Gasping for breath, Talisa dropped her arms and looked out over the mangled bodies and smoking ash, barely able to believe that had just happened.
She’d done that. She’d killed those satyrs. Her warrior instincts had kicked in without a second thought. Even without any official Argonaut training, she’d managed to get the upper hand on fifty feakin’ satyrs.
Zagreus flopped back on the ground with a grunt.
Still breathing hard, Talisa looked his way. One glance over his bloody flesh and oozing wounds and she forgot all about the battle they’d just won.
She quickly let go of her weapons, crossed to him, and fell on her knees at his side.
“Okay,” she said between breaths, sucking back air as she leaned on her hands in the dirt. “Get up. We need to get out of here before those two get smart and bring back reinforcements.”
“Go… home,” Zagreus muttered. “Before you… can’t.”
He was barely moving, his eyes closed, and there was so much blood oozing from his flesh, staining his ripped and filthy clothes, she didn’t know which injuries were the worst.
But it was the flat tone of his voice that worried her most. A dead sound that made the hair on her nape tingle.
She didn’t want to think about why that tone bothered her right now. Grasping the only part of his bloody arm that wasn’t oozing, she pulled, trying to tug him up to sitting. “We’re both”—she grunted—"going home.”
“I… told you. I… released you.”
He was like dead weight. Not fighting her, but not helping, either. “Something you don’t know about me”—she shifted around his back to push against his spine—“is that I never do as I’m told.”
“Just… leave me. I’m tired.”
Scrambling in front of him, she wrapped her hand around his forearm, braced the soles of her silly sandals in the dirt, and yanked, drawing him to his feet.
He fell into her, and she grunted as her arms slid around his torso, her body taking the brunt of his as she tried to hold him upright.
Gods, he weighed a ton. Though she had the gift of extreme strength, her body was taxed from the fight and working hard to heal from the blows she’d taken. Every movement made her sweat and breathe even harder.
She repositioned her feet, getting a better hold on him. Her gaze skipped to the stone archway, judging the distance she’d have to drag him. The image of the forest flickered, revealing the pool, the waterfall, and the rock cliff beyond that were supposed to be hidden.
Shit. The camouflage spell he’d cast was fading. Getting him back beyond Ehrendia’s border wasn’t going to be enough. Somehow, she had to get him back to the castle, get a healer to fix whatever was wrong with him, and find a way to resecure the border. Otherwise, everyone in Ehrendia would still be in danger.
Because she was certain more satyrs were coming. Soon.
Her gaze lifted to Zagreus, leaning against her. His eyes were still closed, his head hanging at an odd angle. He couldn’t seem to support his own weight. Yes, she was strong, but even she had limits. In her current state of exhaustion, there was no way she could get him up that cliff and back to the castle without help.