stirred underneath it, the earth bubbled, and then the first thick rope whipped out toward the Hearthfire even as he lifted his gaze to seek his final target. The pine root twined around Mogen’s left leg, and he immediately kindled it, setting his body and armor aglow with new fire. He raised his axe to hack at it, an awkward proposition because it was in his right hand and he could not easily target the root behind him on the left. He tried to pivot to get a better angle, but I had never stopped building and growing: more roots erupted from the earth to encircle his right leg and hold him in place. I was sweating, my entire body ached, and my nails had opened up cuts in my palms, but that was fine. Mogen wrenched his left leg free with a roar and took a step before fresh roots shot out of the ground to entangle him anew.
The eye sockets of his helmet were fireballs, nothing human in them anymore, only rage, and they scoured the area for the source of this attack—it had to be a greensleeve. He remembered seeing Vin Tai ben Dar, searched for him, and found his body smoking in the grass yet still moving. He sent a fresh blanket of fire out from his axe to alight on him, making sure he would perish, and then he sparked my catapult, the last one, which was a useless hulk without a crew to operate it anyway. The roots still held him and indeed kept thickening in spite of his efforts to burn them away, so he let his gaze roam farther afield. That was when he saw me and perhaps recognized me. Our eyes had met briefly after he’d destroyed the first catapult, then Nef had come to tell me my crew needed me to lash the catapult down with roots. Yes, he recognized me, perhaps even understood that I was the Fornish Champion. He certainly understood that the shoots leading from my silverbark into the earth meant I was the one wrapping him up in pine.
He snarled and pointed his axe in my direction, and a gout of flame blossomed and arced toward me. It was a significant distance to project, fifteen lengths, perhaps, so I saw it coming and knew what would happen. I gritted my teeth around a sob and sent my final instructions through the roots with concentrated fury: fury that he thought he could take whatever he wanted, that he had in fact taken so much already, that he would take my life as well.
The trail of fire split into three fingers as it neared me while behind Mogen thicker roots emerged from the earth and reached out for him like longarm tentacles. That was when the flame landed on me, and I shrieked my pain into the suffocating heat, my body a pillar of orange blossoms on a black bough, my skin crisping and melting, my silverbark turning into glowing coals, my final defiance and the dregs of my strength carried through the shoots before they crumbled into ash. Through the flames, I saw the roots wrap themselves over the giant’s shoulders, underneath his arms, and around his neck. His bellow of outrage was cut short as the roots constricted his throat. A moment later, my last command was executed and the roots convulsed, squeezing in concert and pulling in five directions. Gorin Mogen’s four limbs ripped free of his torso, and his head popped off, extinguishing his fires and showering the grasses with his blood, and though I still burned and felt only pain, cried only pain, I saw the sky, and it was so blue now, no longer gray, except it was moving and going dark at the edges, all black—
—
Fintan dispelled the seeming of Nel Kit ben Sah and spoke into silence:
“To Nef Tam ben Wat’s ears, there was no finer sound than the final heavy clank of Gorin Mogen’s armor hitting the ground. And there was nothing more horrifying than the sound of Nel screaming as she burned. She toppled backward, crying out, wreathed in orange and yellow, billowing black smoke, and Nef could think of nothing to do but kick dirt on her in an effort to smother the flames. He kept at it even after her screams passed into silence and her body crumpled and shifted as it was consumed. He kept at it so that something of Nel would remain long