A gasp went up among the onlookers as a downward slash nearly caught him across the belly. When he jerked back, Ailith surprised him by turning sideways and whipping her blade across her opposite shoulder. This time, instead of aiming for his body, she sliced a deep gash that started at his ear, ran across his cheek, and ended on the other side of his nose.

  Slightly panicked at her enhanced abilities, the man dove out of the way of her next swing, lunged to the side and pulled a second sword out of a dead nob’s belly. Wiping blood from his face with his sleeve, he came at her now with two swords, which he wielded as skillfully as he did a single blade.

  Pulling Shadowfoot to a sliding stop, Sábria leapt from her saddle before the horse’s hooves finished spraying dirt in their wake. She needed to get in to take over the fight, but both Ailith and the man were spinning, kicking, and slashing with such intensity and speed it was impossible to move in without being killed.

  In a masterful, cross-body move, the man slashed low with one sword and high with the other, forcing Ailith to jump perpendicular to the ground, soaring over the one and ducking beneath the second.

  Her escape shocked the man enough to give her time to land on her chest with her arms tucked in close to her body. Without pausing, she pushed onto her hands and spun with her legs held straight out like a club, sweeping his feet out from under him.

  Being an expert fighter, he was used to such moves, and he recovered too quickly for anyone to take advantage of the fall.

  Unfortunately for him, Ailith’s blood lust had surged to an all-time high. With an enraged bellow, she jumped to her feet, grasped her hilt with both hands and charged directly at him.

  Crossing his swords in front of his chest, he timed his response perfectly, catching the tip of her sword in the crossed “V” and, with the speed of a true master of the craft, flung his blades upward, carrying her sword and her arms with them. That left her chest fully exposed to his next slash, which he executed with a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

  Those same eyes widened in shock when it seemed Ailith had known what move he intended to make before he’d fully decided his course of attack.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Ailith whipped her sword around as she blocked his slash and thrust. Using a move Sábria hadn’t seen before, she twisted around so her back was to him, reversed her sword, and slid it between her body and arm. Pushing backward with her powerful legs, she gripped her pommel with both hands and drove her sword through his body until it reappeared on the other side.

  In an impossibly quick movement, she twisted and withdrew her blade, spun in a complete circle, and in one continuous motion, sliced through his neck as though it were butter. As his head landed on the ground, she brought her sword up over her head and, with a growl, sliced his skull in two. His blood ran in rivulets down her forehead and cheeks as she swung around, looking for someone else to fight.

  She came face to face with Sábria, who was holding her hands up to show she was unarmed. “It's over, Ailith.”

  With adrenalin raging through her body and her lips pulled back off her teeth, she spun in a full circle again, looking for someone to kill.

  If Sábria hadn’t seen the insane rage in those eyes before, she would have wondered if a demon was inhabiting her shiv. “Ailith. I'm walking over to you.”

  Ailith’s chest heaved with her pent-up energy. Her knuckles were white from the strength of her grip on the sword that felt like a living thing in her hands. She spun away, alert to an attack from behind.

  “I'm putting my hands on your shoulders now. It's over. They've surrendered.”

  She knew Sábria's voice, and slowly, ever so slowly, the red receded from her vision. When she felt Sábria’s hands on her shoulders, her knees gave way, and she sank to the ground on legs that had turned to jelly.

  Sábria followed her down, and Ailith thought she heard Shirin’s echoing voice saying something about her sword.

  “I'll take your sword, Ailith. Feel my hands on yours and loosen your grip.”

  As Sábria's arms slid around her, Ailith concentrated on letting go of the sword. When she managed to loosen her fingers, Shirin lifted it out of her hands.

  Behind them, she heard the Lady Knight's voice speaking with an awed reverence common to a fighter who’d just witnessed pure elegance in another swordsman’s skills. “Holy Mother Goddess. What was that?”

  Since Sábria had decided the fewer people who knew about Ailith’s berserker abilities the better, Jenx answered cautiously, “She's uh…she's something, all right. We're…um…all very proud of her fighting abilities.”

  Ailith pulled in several deep breaths.

  “Are you okay now?” Sábria whispered directly into her ear.

  Still shaking from the rage that hadn’t completely left her body, Ailith leaned into her embrace and nodded.

  “Is any of this blood yours?”

  Ailith glanced down at her tunic, which was splattered with mud and blood, and the Goddess only knew what else. “Maybe. Don't know. But I'm okay.”

  Even though she needed to spend more time calming her shiv, Sábria had a far-reaching, complicated situation unfolding that required her immediate attention. She reluctantly released Ailith and turned to Jenx. “Check her for wounds.” When Jenx moved in behind Ailith and put her knee against her back to support her, Sábria stood and glanced around. Relief washed through her when she realized that very few people had witnessed the fight because most of them were on the other side of the rocks.

  She stepped to the Lady Knight, who was still staring at the shiv. “Ada, I have a request.”

  Ada absently nodded without taking her gaze from the shiv.

  “I’m asking as your Arch Priestess that you never speak to anyone about Ailith’s fighting abilities.”

  Ada had been in training to be a warrior her entire life, and understanding filled her bright eyes. She nodded slowly as she turned her gaze on Sábria. “She’s from Dreyutha.”

  Sábria simply nodded, wondering if this intelligent woman would put two with two and come up with four.

  Leaning in, Ada said quietly. “A berserker?”

  Well, that answered that question. Again, Sábria nodded.

  “You’re wise to keep her abilities a secret, My Lady.” She thoughtfully glanced over her shoulder. “It makes me wonder whether Elyon had a hand in moving the fight out of sight of everyone else.”

  “Elyon watches over her Blades, Ada, but we rarely know when she intervenes.” When the Knight nodded, Sábria put a hand on her arm and pointed toward the hill with the rock outcropping. “Your father went to apprehend Lord Renly up in those rocks up there. Take some of your people and see if he needs your help.”

  “Yes, My Lady.” Ada slipped around the rock, pointed to a squad of her people, and took off at a run to find her father.

  Sábria stepped from behind the rock and called out for her Prime. “Geller.” She found her already doing the task she’d intended for her. They needed to secure the prisoners, and Geller was seeing to it. When her Prime glanced her way, Sábria shook her head and waved her off.

  “Shirin—”

  “Organize the healer detail. I'm already on it, My Lady.” Shirin strode away to make sure that was being done.

  Spotting Killian kneeling over a prone body, Sábria’s heart leapt into her throat. “Oh, no. Please.” She hurried over and became light-headed with relief to see Emlyn’s brown eyes focus on her.

  “Wasn’t my head this time, My Lady.” She smiled wanly. “I need to ask Prime Geller to work on my backhand block on the left side. It’s just a slice across my hip. I’ll be fine.”

  Judging by her grey pallor, the wound wasn’t quite as simple as the shiv was making out. Sábria knelt next to Killian, who was holding a torn strip of Emlyn’s tunic over the shiv’s hip while trying to slide the other end around behind her back. Killian was excellent in emergencies, but as Sábria well knew, when it was their own shiv, a handler’s mind moved into overdrive and didn’t always make the most rational decisions.

  Sábria lay her hand on Killian’s and pointed to Emlyn’s head. “I’ve got this. Why don’t you make her more comfortable?”

  Seeing the relief in Killian’s nearly panicked eyes told Sábria she’d guessed correctly. Killian immediately moved to Emlyn’s head, which she cradled in one palm before swiping a stray hair from her shiv’s sweaty forehead. After lifting the torn strip to check the wound, Sábria looked around for Kara, the healer she’d brought along, knowing Emlyn would probably require her services.

  She saw her working frantically on a Blade who was writhing in pain a good distance away. She turned instead and called out, “Shirin.” The Commander was busy organizing her end of things, and when she stopped to see what Sábria needed, Sábria shouted, “Send someone with three powders for me and a skein of water with a cup to mix them in. I need fire seed, peporage leaf, and caneleid powder.”

  Someone, probably Geller, had sent a Blade back to where Ty waited with the horses and a wagon Kara had outfitted with medical supplies. Ty had somehow brought the wagon and the remaining herd of horses, all loose, all now milling about, waiting for her next command. Shirin pointed to Senior Guardian Tarvin, who nodded and jogged to the wagon.

  After finding all the correct herbs, a wooden cup, and a skein of water, she handed everything to Ty and pointed at Sábria.

  Pride swelled in Sábria’s chest at the sight of her daughter—her daughter—running toward her carrying the supplies. Her body was perfect and her blonde hair beautiful in Sábria’s eyes. She watched the graceful way she ran with a gait somewhere between a nimble deer and a sturdy battlemare. Pulling her attention back to the task at hand, Sábria checked the wound one more time.

  Emlyn was watching her with pain-filled eyes, and to keep her mind off the wound, Sábria smiled. “Fire seed powder can be mixed into a paste to staunch the bleeding. I’ll mix the peporage powder in with it because it stops infection, and the caneleid powder⁠—”

  Trying for a smile, Emlyn interrupted, “Is to put me to sleep. I know. Healer Haria kept pouring the awful stuff down my—” she grimaced before continuing, “down my throat.”

  “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do right now.”

  Since Trissa’s primary duties as a bugler were finished, Geller had assigned her to begin her secondary role as healer’s helper. She ran supplies to the people tending to the wounded and was trained in triage and easy emergency procedures when appropriate. She stopped by to see if her services might be needed. “Do ya need help, Milady?”

  “No, thank you, Tris. How many other wounded do we have?”

  Trissa moved out of the way when Ty arrived with the supplies. She took them from her and said, with a shy nod that surprised Sábria. “I thank ya, Ty.”

  Ty smiled back, glanced at her mother, and dipped her chin in an abbreviated bow before jogging back to the wagon to await further orders.

  Glad to see that Tarvin had included some fresh linen bandages, Sábria realized she needed Trissa’s help after all. “On second thought, I have my hands full controlling the bleeding. Would you mix the Caneleid powder with some water first and then once Emlyn’s taken it, we can use the cup to make a paste out of the other two.”

  Right before she was ready to apply the paste, she called over to Kara. “Kara. She’s going to need stitches, but the bleeding hasn’t stopped. Should I put the paste on it even though you’ll have to stitch her up?”

  Kara, who’d finished with her first patient and had moved to the next, said something to the Blade assisting her and then came over to see Emlyn’s wound. Seeing the shiv was unconscious, she asked, “How much powder did you give her?”

  Since Trissa had been the one to mix the drink, she answered in place of Sábria. “A half of this.” She held up a small spoon used to measure powders and potions.

  “Perfect.” Kara lifted the bloody cloth and examined the wound before turning to Sábria. “I understand we’ll be taking the wounded to Ashden Manor and that it’s about two candlemarks away?”

  “That’s right.” Sábria had just noticed Lord Ashden, Ada, and Soirin walking down the hill with Lord Renly. Several of Ashden’s warriors were walking behind the group. Renly wasn’t bound, and she silently cursed Ashden’s stubborn belief that if a nobleman gave him his word that he wouldn’t run, then that word was sacrosanct. “Prime Geller. To me.”

  Geller, who was still organizing the over forty prisoners, spoke to Sela before turning and jogging their way.

  While they waited for her to reach them, Sábria asked Kara, “Well?”

  “I’m going to smear the paste on it and then wait for more sanitary conditions at Ashden Manor before sewing her up.”

  Geller stopped next to them. “Milady?”

  Glancing at Trissa, Sábria pointed at the wagon. “We’ll need a stretcher to move her.” When the young Blade was gone to fetch the collapsable stretcher, Sábria turned to Geller. “Until we reach Sarlogne, you’re responsible for ensuring Lord Renly doesn’t escape. It looks to me as though he’s given his word to Lord Ashden that he won’t run, but I trust his word as much as I trust a smiling adder. You’ll have to tread carefully with Ashden so as not to step on his prickly sensibilities.”

  Sábria’s eyes sparkled at Geller’s raised brows. “Yes, well, it can’t be helped. Organize a guard detail, Blades only, no Hunters, to watch Renly day and night. And speaking of Hunters, don’t let them gut and clean his carcass.”

  Geller chuckled at that. “Do ya want me in his room overnight?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll sort that out later.”

  “Aye, Milady.”

  Since she had Kara here, Sábria asked, “Casualties?”

  “Not bad, really. No Blades dead, a couple of deep slices, one head wound. Two of Lord Ashden’s people died, about twenty injured, and I stabilized one woman who may or may not survive the trip home.”

  “And the others? The ones attacking the Hunters?”

  “I haven’t gotten to them yet. Judging by the body parts strewn about, since I haven’t found any of our people missing heads or limbs, I’d hazard a guess and say they didn’t fare as well as our side.”

  Kara’s dark sense of humor had grown on Sábria over the turns, especially since the plump little healer could deliver her opinions with a straight face that hid any hint of disrespect toward the dead and injured. “Thank you, Kara. Carry on.”

  Rising, Sábria made her way to where Shirin was organizing the trip to Ashden Manor. In between answering what seemed like a thousand questions and keeping the Hunters from storming over to slit Lord Renly’s throat, they somehow managed to get the trip organized.

  By the time they pulled out with the wounded, the dead, the prisoners, and a spitting angry group of pissed-off Hunters who wanted to, as Maida had angrily shouted when she’d seen Lord Renly walking into camp, ‘cut out the bastard’s liver and serve it up on a spit,’ Sábria was more than ready to build the fire herself and roast a long list of livers she’d happily prepare herself.

  CHAPTER 19

  It took nearly four candlemarks, but they finally rode beneath the portcullis into the inner bailey of Lord Ashden’s familial estates. Like the Temples, the manor house was surrounded by a tall, four-sided wall of ancient stone reflecting many centuries of protection and defense. Not all familial estates boasted a full wall, but Ashden sat on the southern border of Cibía and was considered the first line of defense should a greedy monarch decide to invade the Empire by chancing a trip through the Preyvin territories.

  While the manor was large and elegant, the estate was not nearly as nicely appointed as the Sarlognean Temple of Elyon. The manor house had three stories and forty rooms, but unlike the Temple, which had the equivalent of a small village within its walls, the manor was only one of two buildings inside Lord Ashden’s keep. The second was the smaller servants’ quarters, which also housed the kitchens, cleaning supplies, and a small but adequately appointed healer hall.

  Most of the populace lived in the surrounding village, and by the time the entourage rode through the gates, much of Lord Ashden’s people had peeled off to greet their families, who stood in the streets cheering their return.

  Ailith had seen many estates riding with Lady Isobel and wasn’t particularly impressed with Ashden Manor. Since water wasn’t abundant in the south, there were very few trees and no flowers whatsoever, but she had to begrudgingly admire the lack of filth or dirt on the cobbles and bricks.

  The courtyard was a hive of activity, with servants performing tasks such as preparing food, carrying water, and ladies hurrying to the healer hall with extra linens and herbs from the storehouse. The Ashden heraldic device was prominently displayed on banners and flags throughout, and small children were running in from the village with armloads of vegetables in anticipation of the manor needing to feed such a large contingent of people.

  With a sigh, Ailith watched Sábria and the Commander disappear inside the mansion and slowly dismounted. She didn’t fully understand why she felt so drained, and all she wanted was to find a pallet somewhere where she could curl up and sleep for a while. Jenx had assigned her to help Ty with the Temple’s horses, though, and she gathered up the reins of several horses and the two of them followed a young lad that the Lady Knight had said would show them to the stables.

  Not surprisingly, he led them back out the portcullis, down a street that was little more than a dirt path, and into a wooden stable. There, she ran into three Hunters who’d chosen not to join the rest of the Blades. She’d never met them, but their faces were hardened with hatred and anger. Ailith stared at the dirt floor as she led four horses past where they were drinking ale and glaring at anyone who happened by.