Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Jushur and Rimush shot from behind me, like two dancers perfectly in sync.
Curran hammered another punch into his adversary’s ribs. The other lion snapped, so fast I almost didn’t see it. His jaws locked around Curran’s left arm. He reared, throwing his colossal front legs over Curran and dropped his entire bulk on top of him.
Curran went down.
The two Blades of Shinar sped through the smoke, their twin swords slicing in precise, brutal movements. Four bodies fell onto the grass.
The Ice Age First bit down, snarling, his hind legs digging into the dirt on both sides of Curran, giving him leverage. I couldn’t even see Curran under the lion’s mass. I grit my teeth.
Come on, honey. Come on.
The Ice Age lion raised his head, and his mouth was bloody. I caught a glimpse of Curran under him, his shoulder drenched in crimson. The lion bit down again.
“Dad!” Conlan screamed. He tried to run past me, and I caught him and gripped him against me.
All fighting had stopped except for the two Firsts. Both sides watched in silence.
The lion raised his head again. His forepaws pinned Curran’s shoulders, the huge claws gouging into his flesh. The Ice Age First roared, announcing his imminent victory.
Curran was a grappler.
His arms slid between the lion’s front legs and knocked them up and out. The lion’s paws landed on the ground above Curran’s shoulders. Curran slipped his right arm under the lion’s left front leg and caught it in the crook of his elbow. He thrust his left arm up against the lion’s throat, barring him from biting, and twisted his body to the right, wrapping his legs around the lion’s flanks.
An armlock. He’d done it to me more times than I could remember. But human bones were a lot weaker than a lion’s.
The Ice Age First still hadn’t realized what was happening.
Curran crunched, bringing his body up. The muscles on his arms and back bulged, shifting as he built more bulk in a split second.
The lion’s left foreleg snapped like a twig. He howled in surprise and pain. His hind legs clawed the ground as he tried to free himself.
Curran wrenched the broken limb off and hurled it aside. Long claws sprouted from his toes, and he kicked the lion’s gut, tearing through flesh and organs.
The lion flailed, frantic, and rolled to the side in a last-ditch effort to get away. Curran rolled with him, and as he ended up on top, he thrust his monstrous hand into the lion’s chest.
I had beheaded people. I had stabbed creatures in the heart. But I would never forget Curran ripping another First’s heart out of his chest. It sat in his huge, clawed hand, a bloody clump, and contracted one last time, sending a mist of blood into the air.
The First’s body collapsed into a humanoid shape. He was large, almost six feet tall, and sheathed with bluish hair. Two large antlers crowned his head.
Curran stood up. He raised the heart up, showing it to everyone, walked over to me, and dropped it at my feet.
Umm. What was I supposed to do with it?
His eyes were pure gold, still mad with bloodlust.
I stabbed the heart with Sarrat. It seemed like the thing to do.
Curran turned away from me and roared.
Every shapeshifter knelt as one. Heather’s archers, the Blades, Darin, Conlan, and I were the only ones standing on the entire field. On the tower, the Pale Queen stood frozen.
Curran had taken the Pack. It was his. The fight was over. We had won.
The magic permeating the field vanished, sucked toward the tower in an instant.
Magic crackled like lightning above the Pale Queen. The few remaining hunters who had survived Heather’s arrows ran from her. Some of them leaped off the tower and slid down its side, crashing into the grass.
The dark smoke boiled and expanded in slow motion, rolling over the tower, out and down. It caught the shapeshifters kneeling by the wall. Their gold collars flashed. Their heads exploded.
She was out of magic. Her best fighter and her priest-mages were dead. She was sacrificing her own people for a last boost of power. There were at least forty of them still alive on the field, most too injured to fight or run. She would kill them all, the elderly, the children, everyone with a collar. All of them would die.
“No, Sharratum, no!” Jushur screamed.
The magic shot out of me almost on its own. The very last of my reserves. All I could give. It rolled from me, pitifully weak. The world went gray. I fell but didn’t land.
There was a noise. It came from far away, as if I were deep underwater and someone was screaming for me on the shore. I floated in the desaturated mist, disconnected and scared. So scared.
I wanted to hug Conlan again. I wanted to kiss Curran and see him grin at me.