There was horror in his eyes when he faced her, and anger. But worst of all was the look of betrayal. In an instant, he knew her for what she was, and she knew he knew.
That didn’t stop her. Furiously, Zip lunged, his point seeking her heart.
Chenaya side-stepped, drew her gladius. In the same back-handed motion she smashed the pommel against his brow as he passed her. The rebel leader fell like a stone at her feet and didn’t move.
“Sorry, lover,” she muttered honestly, meeting the nearest man with balls enough to try avenging Zip. Blades clashed in a high arc, then she dropped low and raked her edge over his unarmored belly. As he doubled, screaming, she cut upward through his throat.
A manic yell went up from the PFLS as her gladiators crashed into their ranks, hacking at their foes. The Rankans let out their own cry, a vengeful paean full of rage for all their slain kindred. There was no mercy in them and no thought of surrender in Zip’s band. Blades clashed and clanged, throwing blue-white sparks. Blood fountained, thick and black in the night. Cries and groaning and grunting filled the palace ground. Walegrin’s men came running.
Then hell erupted. All around, flame spumed upward. Within the bright geyser a
Rankan screamed, threw his arms up uselessly, and ran like a crazed demon trailing fluttering fire.
Another incendiary exploded. Fire spread like a deadly liquid across the earth.
Rankans and PFLSers alike shrieked and burned. Someone ran screaming toward her, swathed in fire. Foe or one of her own, she couldn’t tell, but she gave him a quicker death.