“No, they… won’t,” she said, unsure.

The first arrow barely missed Kiska’s right arm. She jerked back and stared in disbelief at the feathered shaft buried in the soft turf.

“Fight or die,” Lan said. His heart raced now, as much for his own safety as for the woman’s. Damn Claybore!

A flight of arrows from the shadows caused Lan to drop behind a stump for cover. He reached out and pulled Kiska flat. The second barrage from the soldiers was instantly followed by six men with drawn swords.

“A spell!” Kiska cried. “Fry them with a fireball!”

Lan’s blade slashed across the first man’s eyes, sending him reeling back into the ranks with blood fountaining. Another thrust to the throat slipped under a sergeant’s gorget and penetrated the Adam’s apple. A heavy boot broke another’s wrist.

“Fight!” Lan cried to Kiska. “Would you see me slaughtered here and now?”

“Yes,” she hissed, but the woman was on her feet, dagger seeking target after target. Claybore’s spell still cut both ways. Lan and Kiska might hate one another, but they were tightly bound together. Until that indeterminate time arrived when Claybore’s diabolical trap would be sprung, Kiska had to fight to save her “lover,” just as Lan fought to save Kiska.

Another half-dozen arrows winged toward Lan. Reflex action caused him to use a fire spell; the arrows burst into flame and turned to ash inches from his chest. He lunged and caught another soldier on the upper arm, putting him out of the fray.

“How many of them are there?” moaned Kiska. She was covered with blood-Lan couldn’t tell how much was hers-and obviously weakened. She had retrieved a fallen sword and used it, but the greys still swarmed from the safety of the woods. Only the slight rise gave Lan and Kiska a fighting advantage.

“Too many,” said Lan. He didn’t want to use another spell, but he had no other choice. Alerting Claybore of his presence was not as immediately dangerous as dying on the sword point of one of Claybore’s soldiers.