Page 82 of The Last Valkyrie

He crumpled, first onto his knees, and then face-planting and dying in his own gore and filth.

Rage fueled me, shock steeled me, and I fought the dark elf in front of me with everything I had, a surreal atmosphere taking over.

Sulfuric magic fell into the space from all angles, Arne tossing his ice while Magnus cast runes of fire and wind at the dark elves. The Dokkalfar responded in kind with their tainted, smoky magic.

They had caught us by surprise. We slowly hemmed in to try and fight back-to-back with each other, where we were strongest. The clang of steel ignited across the village, echoing through the red sky.

The elves had set fire to longhouses in the village before ambushing us. The smoke and haze made me cough as I blinked through burning eyelids.

Damon and Eirik charged . . . and the dark elves stepped aside.

Eirik’s blackened eyes fell on his fallen father, he stuttered a step, gasping as his eyes flared to their usual brown hue. It was only a moment’s hesitation, a blink as he tried to fight whatever was warping his mind.

Then, with his eyes blackening, he charged at Grim.

My jaw dropped and I spun away from a dark elf, finding myself face-to-face with Damon.

Except this wasn’t my half-brother. It was a cruel, crude clone of him, wrapped up in evil with Korvan’s dark magic swirling through his mind.

“Damon, please, fight it!”

Gritting his teeth, he attacked me.

I swung my spear against his blade, batting it away, and whipped the back-end to smack him across the arm with the haft. His arm crunched, but he didn’t let out a sound as he stumbled to the side.

Damon was on me a second later, even as I screamed for him to fight whatever dark magic controlled him.

I knew he hated me . . .But it was never like this! This isn’t him!

Our feet moved, flowing into battle stances. My younger brother showed how much he had learned during my year away from him, in the shadows, reeling for revenge.

After poisoning me before our first duel at Vikingrune, I had always wanted a tiebreaker duel with him, to show I was still his big sister and would always best him in fair combat. But my desire for such a brawl had dwindled once I realized how much hetrulywanted me dead.

Now he was being forced to act out on it, when we had beenso closeto at least crossing the bridge of reconciliation and acceptance. To understanding one another, trying to move past it, and become brother and sister like brothers and sisters were meant to be.

The expression on Damon’s face was dark, his eyes black, his nostrils flared in rage. He frothed as he fought, spitting and biting at me, using every maneuver he could to try and close the gap so he could skewer me on his sword.

Nearby, Canute rolled over Eirik as my elder brother fought Grim. The Thane’s shield slammed into Eirik’s side and sent him flying ten feet away with abongof steel like someone ringing a giant bell.

Grim had no time to thank Canute, sidestepping to swing his war-axe at a dark elf coming at the battlemaster.

The one-eyed Thane drew his maul, and I knew the elves suddenly had their work cut out for them, ambush or not. With Grim settling back-to-back with Canute, the two largest men I’d ever seen were suddenly fighting together, facing outward and ready to take on Hel herself.

Arne and Sven came from the peripheries, desperately trying to aid Grim and Canute as four dark elves fell upon them.

Corym was locked in battle with Gresh’kellen, their blades whirring and spinning, showing martial arts moves I’d only ever seen in movies. They knew each other’s maneuvers so well, I anticipated their fight would last until dawn if someone didn’t stop it first.

I had my work cut out for me with Damon, who I was merely trying to disarm rather than hurt. It was difficult, because his warped mind gave him capabilities he usually didn’t have—he dodged when I should have sank spear into flesh; he moved in anticipation of attacks that always caught him by surprise in the past.

My arms burned, my wings lank at my sides. I didn’t yet know how to utilize them to become assets to my skirmishes—they were only hindrances and obstacles proving to be more annoying than helpful at the moment.

Damon seemed to notice how they flapped and moved behind me, the scales reflecting moonlight and torchfire every few seconds into his black eyes.

With a growl, he lunged.

I stepped to the side, bringing my spear around in anticipation of where he’d be, ready to smack the air out from his lungs—

Burning pain lanced through my body, from some unknown place. Gasping and crying out in pain, I noticed Damon’s blade jabbed into my right wing.

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