Page 109 of Fang & Fury

This close, Darach could pick out individual faces in the chaos even as the whole front rank buckled. One of them was a man he vaguely recognized from the training yard at Craeg Aonaranach. His yell cut off as the mud swallowed him. Others crashed in behind, unable to stop, unable to see what they were running into until it was too late.

Darach made himself watch. These men and women could have been allies in other circumstances, yet right now, they were the enemy. Now wasn’t the time for mercy.

And then the first volley of arrows hissed overhead. A woman dropped to her knees, her hand flying to her throat as another warrior stumbled over her.

The curses slid into grunts and panicked shouts, but there was nowhere for them to go.

Niall had a problem.

The road was narrow, and they were hemmed in.

And still, Lara’s army waited. Meanwhile, warriors behind the enemy’s front lines shoved forward, even as shouts to fall back rang through the air.

Heartbeats slid by, and Darach’s fingers flexed around the grip of his sword.

Arrows peppered Niall’s front ranks and bodies sprawled, some of them falling as they tried to get out of the pits.

But no ruse lasted forever; that was all the time they’d bought themselves. Those mantraps had done what they’d intended: slowed the enemy down and caused confusion.

“Now!” Cailean bellowed.

The line of enforcers surged once more.

Darach was right behind them, Ailsa running at his side.

They ran between the pits, all of them exposed now, leaping over bodies, and hacking down any of the injured who tried to stop them. The mud sucked at their boots. Warriors stumbled over corpses already beginning to clog the narrow lanes.

Up ahead, more of the enemy came, howling now.

Even in the bright morning sunlight, Darach marked the silver glittering in their eyes, the way the tattoos that snaked over their necks, shoulders, and bare arms glowed and pulsed.

They looked just like the enforcers that had engaged them, but they weren’t.

They were something his brother should have left alone.

Darach slammed into them, his broadsword cleaving wide, slicing into the flank of the first man to reach him. His adversary was big, easily his size, and similarly armed.

But Darach’s first blow decided things.

The blade bit through neck and bone. The man’s body folded before the head struck the mud.

Darach leaped over him to meet his next opponent. Iron rang on iron around him, assaulting his ears.

All the while, he had one purpose. Get through the Circines and face his brother.

Niall had to go down.

For a short while, Lara’s army held ground.

The narrow road helped. It kept the fighting focused on a road that was barely twenty feet wide. Neither army could hit the other with its full force.

Behind Darach, the bards sang, the deep rhythm carrying above the clash of iron. Whether their song strengthened their own or weakened the enemy, he couldn’t tell. He wasn’t sure how much luck they’d have, especially since earth magic fought earth magic. They’d used their advantage; now, they just had to dig in and keep fighting.

Meanwhile, the enforcers slashed their way in up ahead, working as a group like a battering ram of leather and muscle. Unlike Niall’s enhanced warriors, they’d trained for years for this; they knew how to fight together.

As Darach swung his blade once more, he caught a glimpse of Ailsa nearby—blade flashing, someone falling back from her with a cry—before the press swallowed the sight of her again. Kayla was somewhere near the northern ditch with some of the other sacrificers. He could hear her voice rising above the din, calling upon The Warrior’s might, and it surprised him. She hadn’t wielded earth magic when they’d fought alongside each other at Craeg Aonaranach or on that eve they’d met the bavaan. But just a few days among sacrificers again had clearly given her enough confidence to use her magic in battle.

He couldn’t spare more than a heartbeat to focus on her or Ailsa though.