Grey Speed 17

Ripping the sword from the Dreyl knight’s hand, I thrust it into another man’s chest, took him by the throat, and hurled him into a Flamesworth knight’s oncoming spear. Activating Realmheart with a flicker of aether, I deflected a roiling ball of molten metal, sending it into the face of a Clarell soldier at the same time as I conjured an aether blade and twirled it around in a wide arc, cutting down several more men.

While the knights had been charging forward, Augustine had been retreating, sliding back through the wall of Dicathians until she was at the lounge door. She didn’t flee farther, didn’t run for her life or attempt to disappear into the streets outside. Instead, she stood and watched. Entranced or petrified, I couldn’t tell.

Directing aether into my fist to form a concentrated blast, I turned toward a group of conjurers bearing the Wykes House crest. “Please, General Arthur,” one of them begged, “I served with you at—”

The plea cut out, swallowed by the forge-fire roar of aether blasting the conjurers to pieces.

With the efficiency of a lumberjack splitting the day's wood, I cut through the remaining soldiers. Dozens upon dozens of them fell into bloody and broken heaps upon the granite floor, their blood pooling until the gray vanished beneath a wet red carpet.

The fight barely lasted a second before the last of them fell.

I wiped blood from my face and turned toward Augustine. To her benefit, she didn’t run. As I started in her direction, she watched me approach like one who has accepted death.

The room was silent again. And now that it was, I could hear the sounds of shouting and spellfire in the distance.