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The reaper shrieked, lunging for Hawthorne, incensed.

But the warrior struck again, this time launching himself from Torj’s braced shield and leaping into the air. He brought both blades down into the beast’s abdomen, its scream piercing through the noise of combat around them.

Another volley of flaming arrows flew through the air.

A wave of darkness crashed into one of the Thezmarrian units.

Thea didn’t know where to look. To Hawthorne’s right, Vernich was battling two of the horrid things, and on the other side of him, Torj duelled with another…

Then… where is the fifth?Thea thought with a start, scanning the ruins.

‘Gods,’ the word escaped her lips as she spotted it stalking the perimeter around the Warswords. Without thinking, Thea urged her horse forward —

A sword flung out, stopping right before her chest.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Esyllt snarled.

Where did he come from?

‘We can’t just leave them to fight alone.’

‘Your only role here is to follow my orders. Are you questioning those orders?’

Thea faltered. ‘No, Sir, I —’

‘The answer is “No, Sir” and that’s it.’ The weapon master’s eyes locked onto hers, drawing her attention away from the battle unfolding before them. His gaze was brimming with fury, with warning. ‘There is nothing we can do. Only a Warsword can kill a creature like that,’ he added. ‘Our forces are doing all they can to assist.’

‘If you told us how, we could —’

‘Not another word,’ he glowered. ‘If you question my authority again, I’ll string you up and feed you to one of those things myself. You are a shieldbearer. There is much you do not know about the realms. If you want to survive to one day fight yourself, you’ll shut up and follow my orders.’

Thea struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. ‘Yes, Sir.’

She tore her gaze away from Esyllt as he moved to the front of the unit once more, to find Hawthorne pinning a reaper to the ground, one of his blades slicing through its chest. The creature’s high-pitched screams echoed across the ruins as the Warsword carved into its flesh. Hawthorne stabbed his other sword into the soft earth and crushed the reaper’s throat, muffling its shrieks beneath his boot before reaching into its ribcage with his bare hand.

If it hadn’t been strapped to her forearm, Thea would have dropped her shield.

There was a sickening, wet sound as Hawthorne ripped its heart from its chest cavity.

A strange cry made Thea’s blood run cold.

Another was lunging for Hawthorne.

‘Archers, loose!’ Esyllt’s order carried across the battlefield.

But the arrows did little against the leathered skin of the monsters.

Torj flew into action, leaping in front of his fellow Warsword and taking the attack on his shield.

Gasps sounded from the cavalry as they watched Torj and Hawthorne take on two of the creatures, Hawthorne’s blades now aflame.

A few yards away, there was an earsplitting cry.

Vernich tore the heart from a reaper with a roar of his own, throwing it aside with a thud, red blood streaked with black rushing down his arm.

It was three against three now.

Thea’s eyes were watering, she’d forgotten to blink, her knuckles white as she gripped her horse’s reins in a death grip. She couldn’t look away, unable to believe what she was seeing, unable to stand her own lack of action.