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Merrick

S moke curled through the air, singeing my throat. The borgon I battled lunged, its claws slicing through the space where I'd stood a breath ago. Its hot, rancid breath seared my neck. I swung my sword up fast, infusing elemental fire with the steel, the scorch of my magic roaring through my arm to merge with the weapon. I slashed the blade across the beast's forelimb, leaving a glowing tear in its dark hide.

It screamed, and its claws swiped again, but I ducked, its blow missing my head. At my command, air burst around me, tighter than a storm’s whip. It caught me under my arms and hurtled me up and over the borgon, dropping me down behind it. As villagers battled around me, their weapons glinting in the light of the flames, I rolled, coming up in a crouch.

“Behind you,” a woman yelled, her voice shaking as she swung her staff at the legs of a smaller borgon creeping toward me. The creature screeched when the sharpened wood struck its knee. I pivoted, my boot crunching on glass scattered across the cobblestones, and dragged my blade across the creature’s neck. Heat burned bright, my sword’s enhanced fire leaving its head a smoking stump as its body fell with a heavy, wet thud.

My people continued to fight around me, both guards from the castle and those living within the city. They moved in knots, some clutching hammers, others farming scythes or swords. Guildsfolk. Dockworkers. They didn’t waver.

“Barricade the alley.” My voice came out in a growl as I pointed with my bloodied blade. “That should slow them.” Why were they so determined to reach the marketplace? It was no different than any other part of the city.

“There are too many of them,” a man grunted, his face streaked with soot, an iron pole clutched in his hands. His knuckles gleamed red with blood.

Another creature raced from the ally, roaring toward me, its narrow eyes burning with hunger. With a jerk of my head, I pulled power and used it to collect droplets of water from the air. I twisted my fingers, my skin tightening as water and frost encased the borgon, locking it in place. My chest burned from the power surging through me.

A new borgon prowled forward, its body rippling and its muscles coiling. When it lunged, I twisted my wrist and powered an icicle through its gaping jaw, freezing its mouth mid-snap. Its guttural scream came out muffled. Ice spread, solidifying its throat, fracturing whatever it encountered. The crack as its head shattered echoed through the market area. Its corpse thudded to the ground beside the chunks.

Panicked cries behind me sent me spinning, the magic in my fists thrumming as sweat and frost slicked both palms. Two borgons had crept along the walls of a storefront, slinking past the newly constructed barricade. A boy, barely in his teens, held a short blade with both hands, and he stood tall between the creatures and a huddled family.

I surged toward them, hurling a thick band of rocks, dirt, and bits of wood that had fallen from nearby structures at the borgon. I conjured it to life so fast, it churned across my skin with a painful snap. The first borgon howled, its body seizing before it crumpled from the blow. The second swung at me, its claws raking my chest, slicing through leather to scrape my ribs. Pain lanced through me, but I gritted past it, cutting its outstretched forearm clean from its body with my blade. A swipe across its throat, and it collapsed in a heap of blood and fur.

The boy’s wide eyes spun to mine.

“Good job.” I patted his shoulder, meeting his eyes. “Get them out of here. Now.”

I turned back to challenge another borgon, but there were so many.

A heavy snarl broke the air. Another borgon scrambled toward me, bigger than all the rest. Its bulk tore through the marketplace, splintering wood and tossing vendor stands to the side.

Its eyes locked on mine.

I lunged, plunging my blade in an arc straight for its throat. I sent fire through the weapon, and it hissed as flames spilled across the borgon’s neck. The creature did not falter. Its left claw snapped out, slamming into my side, throwing me like a broken crate.

The world tilted; cries scattered around me as I hit hard, pain ripping through my chest. My sword skittered across the stone street, out of my reach.

The borgon stomped toward me. Villagers near me fell back, dragging the wounded as more poured from the alley and into the square. My mind screamed at me to get up, to keep fighting, but the blow had stunned everything inside me.

The creature’s claws lifted for a lethal swipe.

I scrambled to reach my sword, worried this would be it, but I could not quite reach.

Steel struck where my flame had failed. A hard, clean arc bisected the creature from jaw to neck, splitting the grotesque mass with a precision that left no chance for recovery. Blood sprayed the cobblestones as the borgon crumpled sideways.

Reyla stood in place as a ragged wisp of smoke coiled from the borgon’s body. Her blade gleamed, her chest heaved, but there was a frightening steadiness in her eyes as her weight shifted to the balls of her feet. Her hair spilled wild across her shoulders in red struck through with moonlight.

“Who's that?” A man cried nearby, awe shining in his voice.

“That’s Wildfire,” I growled. “My wife.”