Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(105)

We just don’t have the experience or the knowledge to counter her instincts.

But we do have men and women willing to fight for what’s theirs.

Let it be enough.

The fight commences in full force once again when Kymora’s soldiers reach us. Fighting on uneven ground is supremely more difficult. Still, the more tired party is the one likely to make a mistake first.

I stay close to my sister, my back to hers, as we fend off attackers. She swings Midnight with a furious determination. Though Petrik does his best to throw his staff at anyone who tries to approach her, some still get through.

She fights like a lion, with quick slashes and quicker feet. It’s terrifying to see soldiers flinging steel at her, but I have my own foes to focus on.

Though I’ve no shield hammer, I dodge and swing for all I’m worth, protecting Temra’s back with a ferocity that could likely bring down this mountain.

Our magically assisted mercenaries do a remarkable job killing Kymora’s men by the dozens. But when even more red-clad fighters reach the mountain’s top, our fighters are surrounded. And they begin to fall in earnest.

When the imposter Kymoras enter the fray, resolve weakens. Men flee at the sight of her. Some hesitate in fear, which is just enough time for the enemy to get the upper hand on them. Just the nearby presence of the fierce woman in enough to cause more pandemonium in a fight that we’re already losing.

Horses scream. Men scream. Metal screams.

Pain and chaos.

Death. So much death.

More and more of the enemy reach the top of the mountain. Arrows pick off anyone who tries to separate from the thick of the fight. More red tunics surround me and my friends than ever. Skiro and Tazar stay close. Marossa and Algarow. We all fight with everything we have.

An arrow flies right for Algarow. Takes him down before he can finish his exhale.

Without the princess’s head guard to defend her, a sword sails right into Marossa’s unarmored gut.

She looks up, outrage on her face. “Rude!” she screams before slumping against the ground.

Skiro is thunderstruck. He and Tazar sail forward, fighting off her attacker.

Petrik freezes, looking at the scene as though it can’t possibly be real. His staff drops from his hand, but as soon as it makes contact with the ground, the magic sends it back toward his fingers.

Finally, his eyes reach mine. “Ziva, it’s time,” he says.

“No,” I argue. “I can still fight. We can still fight. It’s not over.”

But just because I say so doesn’t make it true.

We’re finally overwhelmed by their numbers. There’s too much red. The princess will die if we don’t get her to Serutha. We have to end this.

Petrik’s eyes flit to the mountain’s base, where the real Kymora once stood.

I follow his gaze.

The warlord is gone.

Likely joined the fray.

When she reaches the top, there will be no stopping her victory. No one can beat her in swordplay.

“The mine,” Petrik reminds me. “Take Temra and go. We’ll cover your backs.”

I hesitate.

“Now!” Petrik orders as he flings his staff to take out another enemy.

My eyes reach Kellyn’s for the briefest moment.

I grab Temra’s hand, and together we run.



* * *



I’ve never approached the mine from this way. In fact, I’ve never approached the mine at all. I’ve seen it before, at least—the gaping hole in the mountain is visible from the southern edge of the city.

“Do you know what we’re doing?” I ask as we run and skid and slide our way across the mountain, veering for the base in a slanting arc.

“Yes, Petrik told me the plan.”

“And?”

“We’re not to the mine yet.”

I let out a growl of frustration. “How am I supposed to do something if I don’t know what it is? I swear, if this is some trick he’s concocted just to get you and me clear of the fight—”

“Then we’ll turn right back around and die with our friends.”

“Twins, Temra. Do you have to be so callous about death? Couldn’t you have said fight with our friends?”

“If this doesn’t work, the fighting will be brief.”

With that cheerful thought, we travel west along the mountain’s base, looking for the dark opening. I know it’s here somewhere.

There!

I pick up the pace, trying not to think about Kymora entering the fight, slaying the people I care about right and left.

There’s a torch on the ground just outside the mouth of the mine, next to flint and steel. I light the torch, then hoist it high before entering the darkened opening, Temra just behind me.

An empty track on the ground meant for mine carts weaves farther into the dark tunnel. Temra and I step on either side of it, following it deeper and deeper.

The place smells of earth, coal, dampness. And something else that I can’t place.

“How far into the mine are we going?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. We’ll know it when we see it.”

The walls are barren, all the iron ore having been mined closer to the surface. We follow the track even deeper.

I feel like a screw wound too tight. Like metal just before it reaches its boiling point.