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She nods tightly, knuckles whitening on the hilts of her blade. "By your side is where I belong," she murmurs, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "You and me against the world, big guy."
My heart swells, a sudden, dizzying rush of love and pride and raw, aching terror. Ancestors, I can't lose her. Not now, not like this. Not when I've only just found her, claimed her, learned the miracle of her touch, her taste, her trust.
Impulsively, I lean down, capturing her lips in a hard, swift kiss. A vow, a promise. A searing brand to carry into the fray.
"Always," I rasp against her mouth. "In this world and the next. My heart, my home."
Then I force myself to pull away, to step back. To be the warlord, the warrior, and not the mate, the male, with everything to lose. I survey the steep walls of the ravine, the narrow defile that will funnel our foes straight into the jaws of our trap. Beside me, Lily is a coiled spring of tension, her eyes hard and bright as chips of flint.
I lead the way into the ravine, my warriors fading into the shadows of the cliffs to either side. The bait has been laid, the trap is set. All that remains is to lure our prey into its jaws.
We don't have to wait long. The thunder of hoofbeats rises behind us, the baying of hounds and the clank and jingle of armor. I resist the urge to look back, trusting Lily to guard our rear as we plunge deeper into the ravine's twisting throat.
"They're coming!" Her shout rings out, taut with urgency. "Fifty yards and closing fast!"
I feel a surge of vicious satisfaction. Let them come, the arrogant pricks. Let them chase us into the killing ground of our choosing, where ogre strength and brutality will crush their cavalier formations, their fancy martial arts.
The walls narrow, towering cliffs pressing close on either side as we round the final bend. There, just ahead—the place where the ravine widens into a broad, boulder-strewn basin. The place where my warriors crouch in ambush, ready to fall upon our pursuers like a mountain upon mice.
I slow my pace, allowing Lily to draw even with me as we reach the widest point. We turn as one to face our oncoming foes, weapons leaping into ready hands. For a breathless instant, all is still, silent save for the rasp of our breathing, the pound of our hearts.
Then Varkos and his knights thunder around the bend, lathered horses skidding on the loose shale, eyes rolling in their sweat-streaked heads. I see the instant Varkos realizes his error, his eyes flying wide as he takes in the rock walls rearing up on all sides, the distinct lack of fleeing ogres.
"It's a tra–" he starts to shout, but too late. My warriors are surging over the lips of the cliffs like a rocky tide, dropping into the milling ranks of panicked horses and confused knights with bellows of savage bloodlust.
Sharak lands beside me with a bone-shaking thud, lips peeled back from his tusks in a snarl of fierce, feral joy. "Now this is more like it!" he roars, wading into the fray with mighty swings of his massive axe.
I spring to join him, Lily a lethal dance of whirling death at my side. For a glorious, gory eterntiy, all is blood and butchery, the crunch of bones and the shrieks of the dying. We are unstoppable, invincible, scything through the Emberhal ranks like a fell wind.
Until we're not.
"Grok!" Sharak's bellow of warning cuts through the clamor a heartbeat too late. I whirl just in time to see a blood-maddened horse, riderless and wild-eyed, come careening through a gap in our line. It crashes into us like a juggernaut, sending ogres flying like ninepins.
And Lily...gods, Lily. One moment she's at my back, a whirlwind of flashing steel. The next she's gone, borne away in a tide of horseflesh and flailing hooves with a cry that pierces me to my core.
"Lily!" Her name tears from my throat, ragged with fear and fury. I lunge after her, shouldering my way through the melee with single-minded savagery. Have to reach her. Have to...
A blow like a battering ram slams into my shield, staggering me. I turn with a snarl to face my attacker...and find myself staring into Varkos's pale, poisonous gaze.
"Going somewhere, beast?" His lips peel back from white teeth. "We have a dance to finish, you and I."
I bare my tusks in feral challenge, fury sluicing through my veins, chasing out thought, restraint. "Then by all means," I rumble, sliding into a battle crouch, "lead the way, butcher."
He meets my charge with a clash and screech of steel on steel, his sword sparking as it grates against my shield. For all his silks and perfumes, Varkos is strong, fast. Each blow resounds through my body like a hammer on an anvil, making my bones shudder, my teeth ache.
But I am Grok Bloodclaw, and I am power incarnate, the wrath of the wild made flesh. I shake off hits that would fell a lesser fighter, giving as good as I get and more. Blood and spittle fly as I drive him back, back, roaring my rage.
From the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of red hair, pale skin. Lily, fighting her way towards me, her blade a dance of death. Her face is set, eyes blazing, a Valkyrie made mortal. My heart swells with fierce pride even as dread sits leaden in my gut. She shouldn't be here. Should be far away, safe from...
Varkos's blade licks out, a serpent's strike, and fresh pain blossoms hot and bright in my thigh. I stumble, off-balance for a critical instant. And the bastard seizes his chance, spinning past me towards my unguarded flank. Towards...
"NO!" The bellow bursts from my throat, raw with horror.
He's not aiming for me. He's going for Lily, his sword flashing down like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. She's turning, too slowly, exhaustion and injury slowing her guard. She'll never deflect the blow in time. It will take her full in the chest, punch through steel and sinew and the frantic drum of her heart. End her, destroy her, rip her away from me after all we've...
I don't think. I move, a single primal impulse. My body between hers and the killing strike, a living shield. I feel the blade bite deep, cleaving muscle, shattering rib. Fire and lightning shred through every nerve, whiting out the world. I'm falling, drowning, the taste of blood heavy on my tongue.
"Grok!" Lily's scream pierces the haze, high and horrible.
