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

When it realizes it’s been spotted, it unfolds its body, quadrupling in size, revealing two serpentine-like heads lined with barbed spikes down both necks and a tail twice the length of its massive body.

“A grif. It’s a type of wyvern, a creature from the Nulling. It’s very rare.” Zander curses. “I cannot believe it has found us already.”

A Nulling creature. “It’s here because of me, isn’t it?” Like the nethertaur, it was drawn to my affinities.

“It does not matter why it is here. You cannot fight this, Romeria.”

“And you can?” It’s easily five times the size of the last beast.

Zander’s line of flame flares as it skitters along the ground toward the beast, forcing it backward, away from us. “I can try. Return to camp.”

But … “I’m not leaving Gesine.” She kneels in front of Jarek, vulnerable as she battles to save his life. And I already know I’m no safer at camp than I am out here. That nethertaur ripped through tents, skewering people, in its bid to find me. This grif will hunt me down anywhere, and it’ll maim or kill anything in its path. Everyone is safer with me staying where I am.

Legionaries rush to our aid, sprinting past us and into the danger zone. I don’t know if all of them together can stop something this size.

“Fine. But once it charges, it is impossible to stop. Do not do anything to attract its attention.” Zander moves in, his steps calculated.

On impulse, I fumble for my dagger. It’s useless, and yet it brings comfort as I grip it tightly and hover over Gesine. Jarek’s face is still and ashen. “How is he?”

I get no response, but I tell myself it means nothing; she never breaks her concentration while in the midst of healing.

The flames encircle the grif, leaving the beast little room to maneuver, a reality it seems aware of as it shifts from clawed foot to clawed foot, its growing agitation visible.

Zander has steered its attention in another direction, away from Gesine and me. “Ready!” he bellows, a battle call to those waiting in the wings, their blades drawn.

A moment later, the circle of fire bursts and the flames rise to crawl over the grif’s body. With an earsplitting screech, it charges through the fire, barreling toward Zander. Shouts sound, and he and the others scatter from its pounding feet, only to loop around and dive in.

It roars as first one blade, then another, pierces its scaly flesh—quick jabs before the legionaries steal away, rolling and jumping to avoid its snapping jaws. Not all of them are fast enough, though. The grif wields its tail as a mighty weapon, sweeping it sideways to slam into one of the males, sending him sailing through the air. Another, it impales with the barbed tip. The legionary screams as it tosses him around, the force no doubt tearing apart his insides.

By the time Zander hits it with blasts of fire and it shakes off its prey, the legionary’s body shows no signs of life.

The grif backs away, out of reach of swords and fire. It lingers, as if calculating its next move.

“Flanks!” Abarrane screams. The group splits to attack from the sides. But with two heads to track their efforts and that vicious tail, sneaking up proves impossible, and they scatter backward again.

It stomps a foot in challenge.

Zander hits it with another blast of fire, and this time when it charges forward, it does so with surprising speed that I don’t think Zander anticipated.

My heart is in my throat as he leaps out of reach seconds before the grif’s teeth clamp over his head. At my fingertips, my powers pulse, ready to be unleashed on this thing should it succeed in catching him.

The grif pauses, lifting one of its snouts into the air before swinging in my direction.

My stomach drops.

It can smell me. Or Gesine.

Maybe both.

Either way, it came for us, and now it knows where we are.

Elisaf uses that moment’s distraction to rush in with a mighty cleave against its neck. Any other creature would surely have lost its head to a sword swing like that, but it does little except anger the grif. With a shrill screech, the beast lunges, and one of its gaping maws latches onto Elisaf’s thigh.

I hear the bones crunch from here.

“No!” My legs move of their own accord, the power source inside me bursting at the seams.

“Romeria, get back!” Zander shouts, but I ignore him. I can’t stand by and watch.