Iron and Magic (The Iron Covenant #1)(111)

She knew how she looked to them. A single human woman, dressed in white, not particularly large or imposing. An easy target.

“Turn around.” Elara pulled the metal clasp out of her hair and it tumbled to her shoulders. “Leave and your minds will survive.”

“Team three,” the vampire said. “Engage hostiles.”

Elara pulled on her magic and punched the floor with it, drenching the chamber in her power. Tendrils of ethereal smoke curled from the stones, glowing with white. The walls shook. The hem of her white gown melted into the curls of magic, merging with it, as she acknowledged the power that was ancient before humans had named it.

It was part of her. But she would never let herself become part of it.

The first undead lunged at her. She caught it in midleap. It hung there, its throat in her hand, its navigator stunned. Then she opened her mouth and showed it her real teeth, and the human behind the vampire’s mind screamed, the echo of his voice pouring out of the undead’s throat.





The red ball of sorcerous fire splashed over the keep’s wall and exploded, sizzling down. Hugh held his hands out, channeling the magic into the second of four blistered bodies lying in front of him. The blue glow bathed the closest Iron Dog. Ken Gamble, taking short desperate breaths, his dark skin blistered and torn.

Third degree burns, posterior neck, upper back, left upper chest, left lower back, and dorsal side of both upper and lower extremities… He sank the magic in, repairing the cooked tissues.

Nez had resumed the bombardment. Erawan’s bulk hampered the ballistae set on top of his Matadors somewhat, but they must’ve fanned out to shoot around him. The elephant was moving at a crawl. Nez was trying to buy time.

Elara would handle it. Bale would help.

Hugh had lost the engine and half of her crew on the north flanking tower. The other half moaned on the ground in front of him.

Another cluster of explosions drowned the gate towers. Hugh craned his neck to check the artillery. Both catapults still survived.

The Iron Dog’s breathing evened, as his skin sloughed off, revealing a new healthy layer. Hugh moved on to Iris, who was next down the line. Ken pushed upright.

“Reinforce the gate crews,” Hugh told him.

The Iron Dog rolled to his feet, grabbed his sword, and took off for the gate.

Second degree burns, face, neck, upper chest…

His arm “hummed”, the magic vibrating through him. Hugh squeezed his fist to get the blood pumping and concentrated on healing.

Another blast. Dugas dashed along the wall and dropped down next to Hugh. “Where do you want it?”

“On the walls, directly across from where he will hit us.”

“Some of those are poisonous.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Dugas nodded and waved his arm. People ran along the wall, carrying sacks and plastic bags.

The ground trembled. Erawan was close.

Iris rolled to her feet. He grabbed the two remaining Iron Dogs by their shoulders, pouring the magic in, healing in twin streams.

A trumpet blast of sound cut through the explosions. They didn’t have much time.





Elara dropped the last undead on the floor and stared into the darkness of the doorway directly in front of her. The first two digging crews lay dead on the floor.

Something was coming.

Something different.

“Do not move,” she whispered.

The five Iron Dogs stood completely still.

A shadow moved in darkness, darker than the rest. A dry clacking sound slipped through the tunnels.

Elara swayed like a striking cobra, side to side, her magic lying in wait on the floor. It was still strong, still potent, but she was growing tired.

Clack.

Clack, clack.

Closer and closer.

Scrape.

Clack, clack.

Scrape.

Clack.

It stopped.

It waited.

She could wait too. She had all the patience in the world.

The torches flickered. Magic whispered through the chamber. She saw it, a clump of blackness trailing smoke, smothering each torch in turn. The fey lanterns blinked and went dark.

In the dark, it moved.

Elara smiled and laughed softly, magic dripping from her voice. “Do you think I fear darkness? I was born in it.”

Her magic shot up the walls. The fey lanterns sparked with pure white light.

A tall dark creature stood in the chamber. It wore a ragged robe, black and tattered, its many layers stained with rot and grease. The stench of carrion polluted the air.

Its hair was long and black. Two twisted horns, coated in old blood, curved from its head, like those of a bison, but rotated to curve upward and pointed forward. Its skin was the brown of a mummified corpse. Someone had carved its face and the scars had healed badly, twisting and slicing through the flesh. Its mouth was a wide lipless gash. A mask of yellow paint traced its eyes. They were dark and opaque, the eyes of a corpse injected with gray ink, except for the irises. Ringed in black, they were a brilliant pale blue, the pupils tiny dots in the ring of near white.

It felt old. The human had long ago died. His body was just a vessel now, for something dark and ancient.

It raised its hand, showing the long threads hanging from its skeletal fingers, each cord supporting human finger bones. It moved its clawed fingers. The bones bumped into each other.