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turned and glared at Lynus and the others.
    From the dark hollow under the fallen home came two more gorax.
    “Reload!” Pendrake shouted, loosing an arrow and nocking another. Horgash and Edrea broke their rifle breeches and slid cartridges into place.
    Lynus scrambled for his own rifle amid the sounds of breeches slamming closed and arrows taking flight.
    “You know where to put bullets!” shouted Kinik. “I am a student! Where do I put blades?”
    A pair of weapons thundered, closely followed by cacophonous roaring from charging gorax.
    Lynus grabbed his rifle and looked up at the ogrun towering above him, her enormous war cleaver at the ready. She’d shattered the spine on a gorax that was down with two arrows and two bullets in it, but—
    “ WHERE? ”
    Now Kinik meant to go blade-to-claw.
    “Sorry . . . um . . . under the jaw and up, like pithing chickens. And, uh . . . between the ribs“—he was interrupted by a volley of gunfire and roars of pain—”but your blade is too wide. Umm . . .” That huge cleaver blade wasn’t likely to pith or pierce anything unless Kinik could drive it with enough force to crush several very sturdy bones on the way in. Which maybe she could, but he hadn’t seen her work yet.
    Pendrake drew his sword and turned to Kinik. “Bleed,” he pointed with a slashing motion just above her pelvis, where a gorax’s abdominal artery ran. “Hobble,” he stepped aside and gestured behind her knee, “and then stay out of reach.”
    Lynus realized he hadn’t taken a shot yet. He swung his Radcliffe up and aimed between Horgash and Pendrake, where he had a clear view of a charging gorax. Not quite a perfect portrait of the flank, but enough to work with. As he squeezed the trigger he noticed—too late—mud at the base of his sight. The end of his rifle barrel exploded. Shrapnel hit him just above his right eye.
    Horgash, blades at the ready, dropped to one knee and screeched something with a terrible gurgle.
    Morrow preserve me, mud in the muzzle, and I’ve shot Horgash in the throat.
    Pendrake turned to Horgash, but the trollkin waved him away with a hoarse snarl. “Take care of the gorax in the middle, not me.”
    The three gorax bounded toward them, loping on long arms and thick legs, foul-smelling drool pouring from their mouths. Lynus assumed they were wounded. The one in the lead was visibly so with three arrows in its chest. But their approach was terrifying. Lynus stumbled to his feet and pulled his sword rig from across his back. Casting the scabbard aside, he grasped the great sword’s hilt with both hands and struggled to keep the tip of the heavy blade up where it might do some good.
    He braced himself for the charge, determined not to follow his instincts and run for the horses. His skin started to tingle. He prayed it would stay attached to him for the rest of this day and hopefully years to come. Under the circumstances, holding his ground was the best he could manage.
    He stood like that, frozen, watching Pendrake, Kinik, and Horgash—limping badly, but not throat-shot—meet three charging gorax in the slaughter field of Bednar.
    Horgash appeared to be in trouble. He stumbled and lowered both his weapons as he caught himself. The smallest of the three

charging gorax sensed weakness, let out a roar that sprayed fetid drool, and pounced. Horgash shifted to his left, his injury not hobbling him as badly as it had first appeared. He raised his left sword, blocking and catching one sweeping claw, then drove his right sword straight up under the gorax’s jaw and into its brain.
    Kinik was an apt student. She was nearly as tall as the thick-maned monster she faced, but far more nimble. She slashed deeply across its lower belly, just above the pelvis, and was rewarded with a howl and a gout of blood. She ducked, rolled to the right, spun, and swept for the back of its knees. Her blade turned, and she only managed to trip the huge male with the flat. He