A Curse of Blood & Stone (Fate & Flame 2)

The grif has Elisaf gripped between his teeth, shaking him around like a dog with a toy, while the snapping jaws of its second head fends off Abarrane’s approach.

I slam a blast of air into its chest.

It rears back with a roar, releasing Elisaf, who falls limp to the ground.

The terror that I’ve lost my closest friend grips me as I hit the beast’s chest with another blast, and another, forcing it back farther each time.

Zander rushes to my side, his breath labored.

“How do we kill this thing?” My voice bleeds with desperation.

“I do not know that we can. I’ve only ever seen one in my lifetime, during the rift war. That one was winged.”

“Some of them fly?” I stare at the beast in horror. As if it wasn’t bad enough as it is.

“Right out of the rift. It killed dozens of us before five casters from Ybaris’s side managed to take it down. It was the only time we were on the same side during that fight.”

Five? I may be powerful, but I’m only one and I’m still learning. I check over my shoulder to where Gesine works on Jarek. She hasn’t given up yet. That must bode well for him, but it’s no help to us. We need her knowledge, if not her power. “We have to keep it busy until she’s done.”

The grif sniffs the air again, first with one head and then the other, but it doesn’t charge yet, not like the nethertaur did.

“It knows what you are. It can smell the power in your body, and it is wary.”

“A lot of good that’ll do us.” My heart constricts at the sight of Elisaf lying there. He still isn’t moving.

“You cannot help him right now.”

One of the legionaries fires an arrow at the grif’s head, striking it in the eye.

It snarls in protest, clawing at the embedded object. A second arrow sails into one of its mouths. A third misses its mark, bouncing off its scales. But the beast has had enough of being a target. It advances on the legionaries with renewed energy.

I hit it with a blast of air, but it doesn’t even break its stride.

“Spread out!” Zander hollers a second before its jaws snap at Zorya. She dodges and swings back, thrusting a dagger into its side before pivoting out of reach, only to stumble. She rolls at the last instant, narrowly avoiding the crushing weight of its paw.

Abarrane leaps in to stab at its neck, distracting it until Zorya can clamber to her feet and get away.

“We can stab it all night, and it won’t make a difference. This thing will keep attacking and eventually, it will catch us,” Zander says grimly.

“What other choice do we have?”

He looks to Gesine. “None.”

“Can you keep it busy until she’s finished with Jarek?”

“We can try. Stay out of its range, Romeria. Please.” He moves in again, sending fire bugs crawling over the grif’s scaly body to draw its attention away from the Legion and back to him.

And I run to Elisaf, skidding to my knees to cradle his head.

The flesh in his leg is shredded down to splintered bones, the metallic tinge of blood so thick it coats my tongue. The main artery in his leg has been serrated by that beast’s teeth, and blood pours freely. He’ll bleed out long before his elven body can mend itself, and Gesine can’t help speed things along. She already has one dire case.

“Have I told you … how much … I hate … these mountains?” he manages through gritted teeth.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “No, you are not allowed to go anywhere. Do you understand?”

“You are … the best thing … that has happened … to Zander …” He swallows. “Protect him.”

“That’s what you’re for, so stay with me. Gesine will fix you.” Except he’s fading fast, and Gesine likely won’t have anything left to give him.