“Not impervious to Kirra,” Cammon said with a dark kind of gladness. “She just ripped someone’s throat out.” Even as he spoke, he could feel Donnal make a leap for an enemy soldier and bring them both crashing to the ground. “Not impervious to Donnal.”
“Good.” Justin had found a spot that appealed to him, a giant curved slab of white marble carved to resemble a shell. Before it, a black granite pedestal held an oversized and extremely forbidding woman carved out of more white marble. “Majesty, you stand with your back to the wall. Cammon, in front of her.” He and Hammond took up stations on either side of the stone queen. “They’ll have to kill us to get to you, and they’ll have to come at us one at a time,” Justin said. “We can hold off an attack for a good long while.”
“Can you tell what’s happening?” Hammond asked Cammon.
He nodded numbly. He was trying very hard not to get sucked into the vortex of the action through the eyes of his friends-he needed to keep his focus here in case the battle turned their way. But he couldn’t help absorbing some of their rage and fear and ceaseless motion.
“Three Riders have fallen, but I can’t tell which ones,” he said. “Not Tayse. There are close battles up and down the halls of the palace, and it’s hard to tell who’s winning. Kirra and Donnal and the other shape-shifters are tackling the ones who are still outside, trying to prevent them from getting into the palace. A few Riders are still on the lawns, too.”
“My father?” Amalie demanded. “Valri?”
“Alive,” Cammon said.
“Senneth?” Justin asked.
“Fighting with a sword instead of fire.”
“Where’s the city guard?” Hammond asked.
“Massed on the outskirts of the city to keep away an army,” Justin replied. “I’m guessing no one had time to run for them. But the fire on the walls should alert them that there’s something wrong! They’re probably on their way.”
“Why didn’t-red and silver hell!” Hammond exclaimed. He pointed with his sword. “One of them just peered around that statue and saw me. Probably saw the princess’s hair. He ran off, but I’m betting he’ll be back with friends.”
Justin nodded curtly and shifted his stance.
In less than two minutes, they heard the sound of running feet, and more than a dozen invaders came weaving through the statues. They moved with a curious and well-trained grace; they held their swords as if the heavy weapons weighed hardly anything. As they drew closer, Cammon could see that their black hoods were really close-fitting caps sewn with scales of metal. Their chests were covered with similar protective garments, gleaming blackly in the sun.
“Hard to kill,” Justin commented.
“One at a time,” Hammond said.
The enemies descended.
Amalie screamed as the blades engaged. Cammon’s own sword was out, but Justin and Hammond beat back the first wave of attackers with relative ease. Still, it was clear that they would soon be overmatched. The slim black-clad soldiers pushed closer, attacked in pairs, tried to squeeze past the tall statue. One of them had leapt to the pedestal and was climbing up the queen’s skirts as if he would scale the statue and launch himself at Amalie from above. It didn’t take much imagination to picture two or three others swarming up the back of the marble shell with the same intention. Justin thrust his sword straight through one attacker’s armor-plated throat and shoved him aside. A new one leapt over the growing pile of bodies and presented a fresh blade.
Cammon was awash in Amalie’s terror, could practically feel the smooth cold stone against her hands as she pressed her body to the wall. He was almost dizzy with so much motion, so much blood. He could sense every swing of Tayse’s sword, every thrust of Senneth’s, even as he watched Justin and Hammond strike and hammer. Kirra swooped; Donnal leapt. Everywhere was violence, danger, and destruction.
Hammond cried out and staggered to one side, and an attacker charged through.
Amalie shrieked. Cammon didn’t even feel his sword hand come down as he severed the soldier’s head at the shoulder. There was a spray of blood, then the falling body, jingling with metal as it crashed to the ground. Hammond had forced himself upright and was now wielding his sword with his left hand, but he was gravely wounded. Cammon doubted he would be able to fight another ten minutes, even another five.
Justin cut down another soldier and instantly took on the next.
“Hammond!” Justin shouted. “Hammond, what’s your damage?”
“Deep,” the other Rider shouted back.
“Cammon, you’ll have to take his place!”
The soldier who had climbed the statue now swung over the queen’s head and dropped lightly to his feet right in front of Cammon. This time there was no single lucky blow. This time, Cammon had to slash and parry and slash again, panic and adrenaline making him crazed. He had never been a skilled swordsman; he had always relied on his uncanny intuition to know where his opponent was going to land the next blow. But he could read nothing from this man’s mind, had no advantage whatsoever except a year’s worth of intermittent training with the best fighters in the country.
It was enough, at least this time. Cammon thrust suddenly and hard, breaking through the protective layer and opening the man’s heart. With a strangled cry, the soldier fell. Cammon stepped back, gasping for breath.
“Bright Mother burn me,” Justin said in a voice so quiet it was the most frightening tone he could have used. Cammon peered around the Rider’s flashing sword to see another ten soldiers streaming into the garden. Hammond was fading fast; it was a miracle he was still on his feet, still wielding a sword. Justin could not possibly hold off another ten men.
“Sweet gods,” Cammon whispered, and felt black despair swamp his heart. “We cannot save her.”
Just then the air was split with a sound that made his blood spoil in his veins.
For a second, everyone froze-Justin, Hammond, their attackers, the new invaders darting through the statuary. The unearthly sound came again, so venomous, so menacing, that it was impossible not to start shaking with fear.
Even though Cammon knew what it was.
One of the attackers uttered a shaky curse and lifted his sword again. But before he could swing his blade, a dark red shape erupted into the sunny garden, announcing its presence with a third horrifying shriek.
And then it leapt for the nearest black-clad soldier and cleanly ripped his head off.
Justin started fighting like a madman. “The raelynx!” he cried. He didn’t add the one clear thought he had in his head. Maybe if it kills off the invaders, it will be too tired to go after the rest of us. He just accepted it as the gift from the gods that it truly was and went after his enemies with fresh vigor.
Hammond was done for, falling against the edge of the marble shell in a dead faint of blood loss and exhaustion. Cammon surged forward, his sword uplifted, but the opponent who faced him could not concentrate when the men behind him were screaming in agony and panic. Emitting a range of truly terrifying cries, the raelynx bounded between enemy soldiers with a fierce abandon, dragging down one, then another, in a bloodthirsty frenzy. In two minutes, it had killed five men. It licked its red mouth, looked around, and leapt. Six men.
Cammon took advantage of his opponent’s inattention and gouged him through the neck. Burbling and choking, the man fell to the ground. Cammon felt Justin’s intense satisfaction as his own opponent fell.
The raelynx screeched again and brought down its seventh victim.
There were only four invaders left now and it was clear they realized their situation had grown perilous. Two of them began to run, and the raelynx went straight after them, catching one before he had gone six paces. The man’s wild yells of pain and fear were abruptly silenced, and the raelynx bounded after his companion.