Page 102 of Fires of the Forsaken
At the end of the field, shadowed by the towering mountains that surrounded it, stood a hulking black fortress. The kinda place you’d expect Sauron to bunk in. The sprawling building was almost the size of a high-rise. Its windowless walls were made of black stone with sharp, dagger-like tips. And the way it crouched over the rows of houses at its feet; like a massive dragon hovering over its latest kill…
A chill raced up my spine as Sacrifice began the descent.
Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod.
Sacrifice swerved around large boulders. Her hooves smacked against rough patches of ground. Occasionally she grunted and her head bobbed, as though the footing hurt her, but she didn’t slow down.
My knuckles popped as I grasped my poleaxe in one hand and a fistful of her mane in the other. And my eyes burned as I stared, unblinkingly, at the battle below.
It was a blur of color and sound. People screamed. Sunlight glinted off metal weapons. Riderless horses tore around in panic. The Wraiths sat astride their black beasts, cutting people down as they steamrolled across the land. And the dogs…
Hold up. Thoseweren’tdogs. They were tall, gangly creatures. Completely furless, the ridges of their spines visible through the mottled skin stretched across their backs. Their white, fleshless skulls blazed in the sun, even as their dark, hollow eye sockets absorbed light. And their fucking teeth had to beat leasta foot long.
I watched, petrified, as one of the hellish dogs ripped into a man’s leg. It tore the limbclean out of its socket. The man fell, bawling, while the dog munched on his dismembered thigh.
“Hellhounds,” Cheriour said as another dog tore a man’s head off his shoulders.
“Excuse me?” I gasped. “Hell.As in theplace? Where damned souls and crooked politicians go? Are those dogs from—”
“Aim for their stomachs. Or throats.” Cheriour swung his horse around a boulder. “Be mindful of their teeth.”
He made it sound so easy, didn’t he?
“The Wraiths need to be separated from their Púcas.” He pulled a knife from his chest holster. “They’ll be slower then. Easier to kill. But you remember the Púcas?”
They’re venomous.I nodded, although my head felt weird. Numb. And my ears kept buzzing.
“I’ll watch over you. As much as I can. Butkeep moving,” Cheriour said. “If you’re idle in battle, you’ll die.”
And, with those final words of comfort, we plunged headfirst into the fray.
Sacrifice barreled into a dog—hellhound—without hesitation. The creature gave a startled yelp as her hooves pounded against its blotched skin. The impact nearly sent me flying head-first over her neck.
Why,whydidn’t saddles come with seatbelts?
A knife hurtled over my shoulder, stopping another oncoming hellhound in its tracks.
Beside me, Cheriour drew a short sword from his scabbard and began skewering everything in sight. Hellhounds? Stab. Grounded Wraiths? Double stab. He was so damnfast, flinging himself from one side of his horse to the other, never losing his balance.
As for me? Ha. Sacrifice did all the work. She mowed down two more hellhounds and one Wraith before I remembered I was, y’know,holding a weapon.
But then I almost lost the damn thing when a hellhound leapt toward me, teeth bared, red foam bubbling from its mouth.
“Holy, motherfucking—” I screamed, thrusting my poleaxe toward the animal. The tip sank into its shoulder with asquelch. “Bastard!”
The hellhound snarled, its teeth snapping less than an inch from my arm. It pulled itself free of my weapon, spraying blood over Sacrifice’s shoulder, and lunged for me again.
“Gah!” I barely got my poleaxe up in time. “Why didn’t you die? You creepy motherfucker—ew, ew,ew!” The spearhead sank into the hellhound’s throat. Blood squirted over my face. The creature died with a rasping cough and started to fall, taking my poleaxe with it.
“Shit!” I jerked my arm back, but the poleaxe was lodged in the hellhound’s jugular. “Shit, shit!”The hound fell. But my poleaxe stuck. I dragged the corpse across the field, flopping and splatting it over the stones. And my weaponstill wouldn’t come loose. Jesus. Did hellhounds have superglue on their insides?
“Addie!”
Cheriour’s warning bellow came a few seconds too late.
As I wrestled with my poleaxe, a second hellhound barrel-rammed into my other side. And I nose-dived right out of the saddle, crashing on top of the dead hellhound and whacking my chin on the poleaxe handle. The hound’s blood goteverywhere: on my clothes, my skin, even in my mouth. I spat, gagged, and rolled off the corpse.
A few feet away, Sacrifice squealed as the second hellhound clambered into the saddle I’d vacated. She hopped and bucked, but the dog dug its paws into her shoulders and sank its teeth into her neck.
