The creature shoved aside his poorly positioned shield and then rammed into his chest. Jerico flew back several feet, halting when he hit a tree. The air blasted from his lungs, and his vision swam from where his head struck the bark. Blood trickled down his neck.

“Your towers stop nothing,” said the wolf-men as it stalked toward him, blood from its nose dripping across its teeth. “We come to feast, foolish man, and we are greater than you humans. We are not dogs. We are not orcs. You cannot stop us.”

Jerico held his mace and shield before him, but his legs felt rubbery. He tried to focus, to anticipate the attack, but all he could do was stare at those yellow eyes and wonder how painful his death might be. Would he be alive when it ate him? His weight leaning against the tree, he vowed to fight until the wolf-man had no choice but to lop off his head.

“Greet me with open arms,” he whispered to Ashhur as the wolf-man crouched down, preparing another lethal charge. But instead of leaping, it tilted to the side, and a pained howl escaped its throat. Dark fire swarmed across its body, and blood soon followed. It turned to run, one of its legs twisted at an awkward angle, but then a sword punched through its skull.

His armor was dark, the fire on his blades darker, so when Darius pulled his weapon free, he seemed a shadow blacker than the night itself.

“Ashhur won’t need to take you yet,” Darius said as the blood sizzled in the fire of his blade. His blue eyes twinkled. “And you can thank Karak for that.”

Jerico slung his shield on his back and then rubbed his forehead. A chuckle escaped his lips.