Chapter Thirty

Thea used her sister's storm magic as a diversion and rallied her unit to close around the back of the forces Wren had swept away with her flood.

Still astride her mare, she rode beside Drue, the pair of them cutting down howlers and Artos' men like stalks of wheat in a field. Unable to help herself, Thea continued to scan the skies for any sign of the wraiths and reapers as she fought her way towards the rear of Artos' forces. But there was yet to be any sign of an incoming airborne attack.

Sensing Wren's magic around them, Thea's own power was dancing beneath her skin, but she kept a tight leash on it; if they needed her, she had to be at full strength.

Together, she and Drue decimated the back lines of the force, while in the distance something erupted. Likely another of Wren's alchemical concoctions. Thea looked up to see plumes of smoke rippling from the heart of the battlefield and clusters of howlers sprinting from the site.

As the smoke drifted into the sky, clearing from the ground, Thea spotted Wilder amid the turmoil, wielding those twin blades, an extension of his own strength and agility. He fought with Talemir and Torj at his sides, the three of them a formidable force carving through one monster after the next, leaving a trail of blood and guts in their wake.

Eventually, Talemir shot into the sky to return to the shadow-touched infantry, forming a skyborne phalanx that advanced steadily and methodically, shielded with shadow.

Below, Thea and Drue continued their assault of the back forces, Thea craning her neck to spot any sign of the lecherous former king responsible for all this death and darkness —

Someone shouted. Wilder.

Thea looked up just in time to see an enormous arachne coming straight for Torj.

Wilder was locked in battle with several howlers. Though he fought with all his might to get to the Bear Slayer, he was just too far. The arachnes reared up, towering over Torj.

Thea urged her mare into a gallop, surging for them, her remaining throwing stars already between her fingers. If she could just —

A glowing sphere hurtled through the air and struck the arachne square in the chest, before it exploded.

A familiar flash of gold momentarily blinded Thea, and she shielded her eyes. The screech of the arachne had her clutching her ears, the rest of the battlefield doing the same as the monster disintegrated, flecks of gold covering its writhing body.

Torj stared open-mouthed at the melting corpse, his hammer suspended in midair in shock.

Thea looked from the startled Warsword across the battlefield, to where Wren was slinging vials of sun orchid essence at the enemy.

‘You're welcome, Bear Slayer,' she shouted across the chaos, pitching another potion right into the heart of an enemy unit.

Torj shook his head in wonder, and Thea grinned at Drue.

With Wren's help, they forced the enemy back, slaying howlers and arachnes. To Thea's horror, miniature vine blights were catapulted into their forces, and for a moment she was ripped from the present. She was back at the great lake, sobbing through the pain as she cut off her own arm, the searing agony of the vine blight's grip unlike anything she'd ever felt.

‘Thea!' a sharp voice sounded.

Wilder.

He was at her side, concern etched across his handsome face.

‘Vine blights,' she managed.

He didn't question her, only took off towards Farissa. Thea knew he'd take care of them.

Shaking off the nightmarish memory, she spotted the gleam of gold armour at the back of the force and spurred her mare into action. She squeezed her horse's sides, picking up speed, cutting her way towards King Artos, a snarl of vengeance on her lips. He could join Sebastos Barlowe in the underworld. He would die at the tip of her blade —

A roar filled the air, the sound reverberating through the ranks with a shudder.

A gasp caught in Thea's throat.

What could only be a frost giant staggered towards them from the mountains. The creature was one of epic proportions, its skin as pale as the snow-covered depths from which it had emerged. With every lumbering step, and every bellowing roar, the ground trembled, and an icy shiver raked down Thea's spine as she took in not only the giant's size, but the leash of shadow around its throat, and the enormous spiked club clutched in its meaty fist.

With one sweep of that club, men went flying, some impaled on the spikes themselves. Blood rained down on the army below, and black ice crept across the battlefield.