were too many creatures, too many men holding weapons. Even two Fomorian giants. It was over.
“Knight!” John Lewis Hugo shouted. “Stand down!”
“I will not!”
John Lewis Hugo grinned, the burned side of his face inflexible. “What fun would that be, eh? Quit this. I have no wish to harm you.”
“That’s why you bring those abominations of nature.”
“I believe the High King requested you be unspoiled, is how he put it,” John Lewis Hugo said. “The demon wolves are here to protect you from those who would do you harm, nothing more.”
“Philip Plantagenet should have died in his cradle as history recounts!”
“But that was not the Word’s will, now was it?” John Lewis Hugo countered. “Instead of spending your life enabling the hypocrisy of the Church and that senile wizard, you should embrace a larger cause to set things right.”
“John Lewis Hugo,” Richard said carefully, curbing his anger. “Do not forget who you are. You are a good man. Let that twisted creature that has been imprisoned inside of you free and do the right thing here.”
“So shortsighted. You know not of what you speak.”
“You are as wrong as those creatures behind you.”
A frown shrouded John Lewis Hugo’s face as he turned to the witch.
“Have the demon wolves take them cleanly,” he said.
The Cailleach made a curt hand movement.
As if a dam had broken, the creatures bound around their master and the Fomorians, coming straight for Richard. The knight did not panic; he sent his fire into the nearest of the creatures, setting it ablaze and the trees around it. More demon wolves were cut down by azure bursts, their hissing and screams madness in the air. More came on, a torrent of claws and glee, the destruction of their brethren only emboldening them further, a curtain already falling upon the knight. Richard knew he could not stop them all. With his power threatening to overwhelm him like a flood, leaving him a useless husk, the knight focused on his enemy and conserved what he could.
Dryvyd Wood fell away as did Bran’s yelling.
A beast broke through his defenses to slash at his exposed side, its claws burying deep.
With a howl of fury and pain, Richard split the creature in two. Black blood showered the air, the demon wolf’s cleaved halves hitting the ground.
More beasts gathered beyond the carcass-ridden ground, waiting to attack.
“Lord Gwawl!” John Lewis Hugo commanded.
The beasts came again. This time Gwawl commanded Sanddev to lead his warriors alongside the onslaught of blackened razor-sharp teeth and claws. Concealing his grin at the opportunity given him, Richard swiped the air with Arondight anew, the flames leaping off the blade in thick spurts that shot at the legs of the attackers. The beasts and horses leapt aside.
It was what Richard wanted. The knight sent his power between them, driving them to alter the path of their attack—to slam against the tree trunks, limbs, and roots of Dryvyd Wood.
The forest exploded.
The trees, so packed together, came alive, snatching whatever intrusion awakened them. The demon wolves came on; the horses screamed in terror. Limbs shot out like lightning to wrap about the struggling twisted limbs and legs they encountered, squeezing with intensity born of wood and sap. The warriors struggled to get free, hacking at the limbs in horror, but for each one cut free several more took its place. Panic ensued. The roots greedily bore their captives into the black soil, men, horses, and demon wolves stuffed beneath the ground—some already dead, most suffocating as dirt choked their screams away.
One of the last caught, Sanddev slid into his grave, screaming incoherently for aid. He disappeared in moments.
John Lewis Hugo and Gwawl yelled orders at the remaining panicked men. The demon wolves milled about, unsure what to do.
“Keep bringing your pets to me!” Richard shouted. “They die!”
“Like Elizabeth McAllister?” John Lewis Hugo returned at a distance, his voice oily. “Without a real man to protect her.”
“What did you say?” the knight hissed ferociously.
“Your dead wife!” John Lewis Hugo yelled. “Or have you forgotten her already?”
Disbelief and anger filled Richard. The past he so wished he could forget came to the fore. He stepped ahead, leaving Bran against the granite outcropping, his rage pushing him to destroy the dozens of enemies between the two men.
Arondight winked out of existence.
Richard fought to reclaim the blade but it was too late. Maddened by the pain inflicted upon them and driven into motion by the disappearance of Arondight, the beasts flew forward in a frenzied rush, bounding between the