Steel met steel with a deafening clang as I parried the first attack, the impact jarring up my arm. My opponent—a scar-faced man with yellowed teeth—pressed forward, his greater weight forcing me back a step.
"Don't let them separate us!" Rowan shouted, his voice barely audible over the sudden cacophony of battle.
I disengaged from my attacker with a quick side-step, slashing at his exposed flank. He was faster than his bulk suggested, twisting away just enough that my blade only sliced fabric rather than flesh. He countered with a vicious horizontal cut that I barely ducked beneath.
To my right, Maya had already engaged two opponents. Her hands glowing in flame. The first slavers approached her with confident grins, clearly assuming the petite girl would be easy prey. Their mistake became apparent when flames erupted from her fingertips, coalescing into a whip of pure fire that lashed across the chest of the nearest man. He screamed, dropping his weapon as he frantically tried to extinguish his burning tunic.
"Behind you!" I called to her as a third attacker approached from her blind spot.
Maya spun, her fire whip elongating and slicing through the air. The attacker ducked, but not quickly enough—the fiery cord caught him across the face. His agonized howl sent a chill through me despite the heat of battle.
Rowan fought with calculated precision, his movements economical and deadly. Unlike my desperate defense or Maya's spectacular flames, his combat style was almost meditative. He raised one hand overhead, fingers spread wide. The air around him began to shimmer and distort.
"Take a breath!" he warned.
I gulped air just before a violent gust of wind erupted outward from Rowan in all directions. The sudden maelstrom threw several attackers off their feet and bought us precious seconds. The forest floor swirled with disturbed leaves and dust, momentarily obscuring visibility.
Using the confusion to my advantage, I lunged at my opponent, my sword finding its mark between his ribs. His eyes widened in shock as I pulled the blade free, blood shining wetly on the steel. He crumpled to the ground, the first casualty of the skirmish.
There was no time for remorse. Two more attackers took his place, their faces twisted with determination and greed.
"Focus on the magic users first!" the old man's voice commanded from somewhere beyond the fighting. "The girl particularly!"
As if on cue, a bolt of earth sliced through the air toward Maya. She deflected it by devouring the rock with her flames but it wasn't completely destroyed and parts of the attack still reached its mark, the impact knocked her back several steps. A slaver with elaborate tattoos covering his exposed arms emerged from the group, his hands busy summoning some type of magic.
Water magic
Maya's face tightened with concentration. Fire and water—natural opposites. She would be at a disadvantage against this particular foe.
I tried to move toward her but found my path blocked by three opponents. They had realized I lacked magical abilities and were concentrating their physical attacks on me, forcing me into an increasingly desperate defense.
Steel whistled past my ear as I ducked another attack. I countered with a low slash that caught one attacker across the thigh. He stumbled back, cursing, as dark blood soaked his trousers. Before I could press my advantage, another blade sliced toward my unprotected side. I twisted awkwardly, the tip of the sword cutting a shallow gash across my ribs. Pain flared, hot and immediate.
"Kai!" Maya's voice sounded strained. I risked a glance in her direction.
She was engaged in a deadly duel with the water mage. Her flames hissed and sputtered against waves of conjured water that threatened to douse her magical attacks. Despite her skill, she was clearly outmatched by the more experienced mage. Her movements were becoming desperate rather than calculated.
Rowan wasn't faring much better. He had managed to dispatch one of the slavers, but now faced the mage who controlled earth. The mage had rowan on the back foot not letting off the gas with his constant attacks.
My momentary distraction cost me. A heavy fist connected with my jaw, sending me staggering backward. I tasted blood. The world spun briefly before I regained my footing, raising my sword just in time to block a potentially fatal strike.
"They're wearing down!" the old man called, his earlier fragile persona completely abandoned. "Remember, we need them alive—but they don't need all their fingers and toes!"
Cruel laughter answered his words, fueling my desperate anger. I feinted left, then drove my blade through the chest of my nearest attacker. As he fell, I wrenched my weapon free and spun to face the others, breathing heavily.
Blood dripped from a cut above my eye, partially obscuring my vision. My arms felt leaden, each movement requiring increasingly conscious effort. We had managed to fell perhaps four of their number, but at least a dozen remained—and we were flagging.
Maya cried out as a blade of water caught her across the face, extinguishing the flames she had been gathering. She dropped to one knee, momentarily stunned. The water mage advanced, triumph evident in his stance.
Rowan shouted something I couldn't understand, the words lost beneath a deafening sound of battle. When I glanced over I saw him being thrown backward from a harsh impact.
I tried to reach them but found myself surrounded once more. Outnumbered. Outmatched. My sword felt impossibly heavy in my aching grip.
"Surrender now," one of the slavers suggested, his tone almost reasonable, "and we'll be gentler in teaching you your new place."
I answered with a desperate slash that he easily parried. My next attack was slower, clumsier. He caught my blade with his own and twisted, nearly wrenching my sword from my grasp. I held on through sheer stubbornness, though the movement sent fresh pain shooting through my injured side.
Blood, sweat, and fatigue clouded my judgment. The forest seemed to spin around me as exhaustion took its toll. How much longer could we last? Maya was struggling to her feet, her fire magic flickering weakly. Rowan had retrieved his stance as well but moved with a pained stiffness that suggested serious injury.
The circle of enemies tightened around us, their expressions shifting from caution to predatory confidence as they sensed our weakening resistance.
We were losing. And time was running out.