“Die!” another screamed at her.

“Not today!” she screeched back. His sword dug into her side, somehow finding its way in-between the scales. Vhalla winced but pressed her arm forward. Her hand caught his mouth, and that was all it took.

She turned, blood dripping from her right palm. Aldrik had three on him, and he was handling them with expert precision. Vhalla raised her fingers, sending his fire in a wide arc to hit all three. They cried in pain as their bodies became flames. Aldrik turned to each sequentially, finishing them.

His eyes caught hers, and time slowed. Two obsidian orbs—ablaze—saw straight into her soul. She inhaled and saw his breath heave at the same time. His hand extended into the air, her feet picked up and she reached for him. Vhalla’s fingers curled about his, and Aldrik pulled her to him.

“My lady.” She would have heard him even if the words were breathed and every soldier screamed at once. “You are magnificent.” Aldrik’s free hand reached over her shoulder, and she felt the flare of his magic as a tongue of fire was sent behind her. Vhalla did not even turn to witness the poor soul’s demise.

“My prince.” Vhalla swept up her hand, disarming all those in their immediate vicinity. She hardly gave thought to the fact that it was the first time that she had managed so many swords at once. “You are the bards’ most epic songs brought to life.”

He smirked at her. She gave him a sly smile. Aldrik released her, and she turned away on her heel, throwing herself into the movement so she dropped forward. The wind shot forth from her and knocked about twenty Northerners off their feet. Vhalla felt the familiar warmth of his flames behind her and knew he had given himself to the fight as well.

Her magic claimed her; it was intoxicating, an all-consuming devotion to the moment. She was lost somewhere between herself and him. Yet, somehow, she could feel him lost within her. She felt his movements as much as she felt her own. Vhalla was not sure if a Joining was possible without touch, but they were making a strong case for it.

They spun and spiraled about each other, completely trusting the other to be exactly where they expected full moments before they had even begun to move. Their bodies turned to where the other needed, finding openings, shifting around flailing arms and quick feet.

No one stood a chance against them. None managed to even come close. His arms curved around her body, sending an attack. Her back brushed against his as she protected him. Aldrik put himself into his flame and she joined with her own magical essence. There was something deeply intimate about it.

Her breathing had become heavy—this was the true night of Fire and Wind.

An unfamiliar and shrill noise cut the darkness, and there was a loud roaring sound. Aldrik and Vhalla both paused, turning to the source in exactly the same moment. She swallowed hard. Darting out from the trees in the darkness was a mounted force. Groundbreakers, she judged by their limited armor, rode upon the cat-like creatures she had faced once before. There were less than the Southern Calvary, but more than Vhalla had ever expected to be possible.

Their large claws tore through the shambles that were the last men standing of the front line. Vhalla assessed the state of the military behind her. The inner circle surrounding the fortress held strong, none from the North had broken through anywhere Vhalla could see—yet.

She swallowed hard. It must hold, they must not let anyone from within Soricium escape those towering walls or help to penetrate them.

An Imperial horn blew out, and Vhalla heard the rumble of hooves. A mounted counter-force was launched to respond. Vhalla pulled back her hands. She felt Aldrik move closer, covering her sides as she took a steadying breath. She ignored everything, trusting him to defend her. Pushing forward, she watched the dozen creatures stumble and rear back against the force of the gale she sent their way. Unfortunately, a few Southern soldiers were also knocked down in the process, but it gave the Southern cavalry the time they needed.

She had other concerns than the cavalry’s response time when she caught sight of Fritz from the corner of her eye. He was wildly outnumbered three to one, and he was no Aldrik. Vhalla lost the perfect sync she held with her prince to dash to her friend. Fritz’s dagger was dislodged from his hand. She saw the faint shift in his form, but his illusion was dispelled almost instantly by another attacker.

Vhalla forced herself clumsily into the battle. She dodged a blade, shouldering a different one for Fritz, who scrambled up from the ground. She heard her voice cry out in pain at the numbing pressure on her shoulder. Another blade was pulled back, she bit her lip, attempting to recover her control. Fritz rolled, trying to regain his feet.

Fire blazed about them, licking warmly against her skin. The tip of a blade grazed her cheek a moment before her assailant dropped the weapon in agony. Aldrik found his way to her side. Both of their hands reached out for the remaining Northerners. Both found their mark. Both soldiers died at the same time, one from wind, one from fire.

“Vhalla.” Aldrik faced her with apparent worry.

“I’m fine.” She nodded at him, the pain in her cheek hardly registered.

There was a sharp increase in the cries of the soldiers before them. They both turned. The remaining beasts had overtaken the cavalry. Vhalla looked on in panic as horses without riders fled from the sharp claws and fangs.

She saw the cat-like creatures then for what they were. This would be the head clan’s getaway. It would be what would shatter the Southern ranks and make it through to the palace. It would be what could carry the people within away and preserve the leadership of the North. Aldrik saw the same.

“Black Legion! Stop them!” he commanded.

All sorcerers turned their attention to the oncoming beasts.

A few were impaled upon spears of ice. Others engulfed in flame, but it still wasn’t enough. Vhalla watched as her comrades in black were pounced upon, shredded by the creatures. Her stomach churned as one stopped to bite off the head of a fallen Southerner.

But two riders knew their mission more clearly, and they steered their mounts toward the inner line with furious purpose. They must not let them through. Aldrik was already moving his fire as much as he could but the beasts’ fur seemed to resist flames, and he had to focus all his attention upon only one at a time for it to catch and collapse with a feline scream of agony.

Vhalla began running. Fritz and Aldrik shouted behind her, but she plunged herself into her Channel. It was already beginning to feel thin, but she had no other option. If there was ever a night she would scrape the bottom of her magical well, this would be it. The wind swept beneath her feet and nothing could catch her as she sprinted through the camp. Curving her path, dodging blades and ducking in between skirmishes, she dashed across the field. Her eyes were focused on one creature, bigger and stronger than the rest.

Curling her fingers, a gust of wind pushed a riderless horse in her direction. Vhalla curved again, running alongside the path of the mount. The painted mare came up on her, and she reached out a hand. Her fingers closed on its reins, and she did not let go. The horse, crazed, attempted to keep running, and Vhalla was pulled off her feet. Her legs pinwheeled frantically, finding her footing as the horse slowed enough from her tugs on the reins for her to make her way upright.

Somehow, she clumsily managed her way into the saddle. Vhalla turned; the two Northern riders were almost to the center line. Archers rained arrows down upon them. Pole-armed soldiers braced themselves. Vhalla kicked her heels and put the wind to the horse’s hooves.