shared warmth seeped into her.
Not that they had much of a choice, if they wished to rescue Farrendel. Besides, back in Escarland, the trees had not even begun to turn their autumn colors yet. Summer still lingered with warm days and only mildly chilly nights.
“It would not have mattered. They would have blanketed their kingdom in snow regardless. They have few crops to worry about killing in the summer.” Jalissa tensed, then raised her head. “Grab your rifle.”
Essie reached for the gun she had tucked alongside her under her blankets, keeping it warm and ready. “Another night attack? What direction?”
Then she heard the shouting, the reports of muskets, and the clash of bladed weapons.
Jalissa pointed at the wall of the shelter by their feet. “That is from behind our lines.”
Meaning, the trolls had somehow circled around to attack from the rear. A rear guard was stationed around the perimeter, protecting the noncombatants and healers, but it would not be many.
Essie pushed to her knees. “We need to get everyone to the safety of the front lines.”
“The trolls might be attacking there too.” Jalissa picked up her bow and quiver of arrows.
Good point. “It should still be safer than staying here.”
The shouting grew louder, closer. Jalissa grimaced. “Very well. We should hurry.”
That was a given. She and Jalissa might be able to hold their own against a few trolls. But neither of them was a trained warrior.
Jalissa slung her quiver across her back and glanced at Essie. “Ready?”
As she was already fully dressed and wearing her coat, Essie looped the strap of her ammo pouch over her head and gripped her rifle. Her stomach knotted, but she forced herself to smile. “Yes.”
Pressing a hand to the wall, Jalissa’s green magic seeped into their brush shelter. The branches withdrew, opening a door.
An icy blast pelted Essie’s face with globs of snow. She blinked, squinting into the blizzard.
Figures dashed across the camp. Elven healers, the Escarlish surgeons, and a few soldiers ran through the snow, headed for the safety of the front line. Behind them came a tight knot of trolls, their white hair and gray skin nearly blending into their blizzard.
Essie clambered to her feet and dashed across the snow. When she could get a shot past her fleeing men and allies, Essie dropped to a knee and lifted her rifle. She drew in a deep breath, held it as she lined up her shot, then released a part of her breath to steady her hands. Her finger gently squeezed the trigger.
A troll went down, blood staining the snow.
She couldn’t let herself think about the fact that she had just taken another life. Stomach churning, she levered the rifle to chamber a round and lined up for another shot.
Jalissa halted next to her. The bow thrummed. An arrow plunged into the throat of another troll.
“Rally to the princess!” A command called in Escarlish. A few of the fleeing Escarlish soldiers halted and veered their path toward Essie.
As she fired again, wounding a troll in the arm this time, a few Escarlish soldiers flopped to the ground beside her, raising muskets.
“Stand by the princess!” This shout was in elvish. The elven warriors on the rear guard formed up next to Jalissa.
Essie couldn’t tell, thanks to all the swirling snow, but her and Jalissa’s small force seemed pitiful compared to the numbers racing toward them.
Except for the cold and snow, this was too much like that ambush. Had it really only been a mere two and a half weeks ago?
But this time, there would be no Farrendel to blast the trolls back with his magic.
A few more physicians and elven healers fled past, loaded down with stretchers. Trying to save the wounded too injured to flee on their own.
Essie and Jalissa just needed to buy some time for the others to get to safety. Once the attack at the rear was reported, reinforcements would come, probably with Weylind and Averett leading the charge.
Would they come in time?
Essie banished all such thoughts from her head and focused on another target. She needed to get off as many shots as she could before the trolls got too close for her gun to make a difference.
She fired three shots before she had to pause and reload. With the gloves making her fingers thick and the snow blasting her with cold, she fumbled with the cartridges. Too long. This was taking too long.
The trolls rushed forward. Muskets and repeating rifles fired next to Essie, but only a portion