Despite all the hunting she'd done in the First World to stay alive, Darlac was not a good archer. She could manage, more or less, when all the circumstances were in her favour – but that was very far from being the case now.

  Once again, she found herself sorely missing the centaurs. They would have no issue shooting incendiary arrows into the Tiger Lords' camp, and while doing so, their lower bodies wouldn't teeter on the verge of panic.

  "Calm down, Gale," she said softly. "We have a protective spell on, remember?"

  But Gale was hard to convince, as Darlac had been messing with an open flask of Alchemist's Fire on his back for far too long, soaking the rag she'd wrapped around the shaft of her arrow and dripping some of it on his coat. Without the spell, both of them would have gone up in flames long ago.

  The sooner she would be done with this, the better. There was no need to aim precisely. All she had to do was get the arrow inside the camp for the Tiger Lords to notice; actually setting something on fire was a bonus. She could do that much. And luckily, neither Gekkor nor Hazel was there to smirk at her struggles. In fact, nobody knew what she was up to, least of all her men.

  Darlac nocked the blazing arrow and aimed at the largest tent, which was a feat in and of itself with her horse dancing nervously under her butt. She released the bowstring, along with the breath she'd been holding, then shook her left hand to make the harmless but uncomfortable burning sensation go away.

  It was a lucky shot. The arrow hit true, and more importantly, Darlac stayed in the saddle. It would take a little longer for the flames to spread enough to get noticed. Darlac had plenty of time to escape, if that was her intention. She didn't budge, though. Not before she was spotted.

  At last, someone began to shout excitedly in Hallit. The camp became like a disturbed nest of hornets, with people running about, trying to put out the fire, or searching for the perpetrator. After a while, a bulky half-orc woman pointed at the lone rider idling outside the perimeter. A dozen barbarians grabbed their weapons and filed out of camp, loping towards Darlac.

  She turned her horse (Gale helpfully enhanced the scene by rearing up and letting out a resounding neigh), and set out in a gallop into the wilderness. Following an initial burst of speed to put some distance between her and her pursuers, she gradually slowed to a light trot. Let them hope for success.

  The barren landscape in front of her was rocky and uneven, peppered with the occasional tuft of yellow grass. Holes marred the ground, with sun-bleached bones scattered around them. Darlac slowed down to a walk, trusting herself to Gale. Her steed was inexplicably sure-footed on this terrain, never slipping or tripping, expertly skirting the insidious burrows. Still, Darlac could feel his anxiety. The only thing that kept him from bolting was his trust in her.

  Too bad Kassil Aldori couldn't see her now. When it came to dragons, Varnhold wasn't any more blessed (or cursed) with their presence than Nightvale, but they did have their own horrible, destructive, scaly monster to weaponise against their foes. And as Darlac was about to prove, it was not a privilege of druids to put Nature to work on their behalf.

  Also, if things went south, this would be a thrilling way to go. Darlac found herself less averse to the thought than she was supposed to be, just a few days after her resurrection.

  Peeking back over her shoulder, she saw her pursuers were drawing near. As she moved forward between the burrows, slowly and cautiously, the Tiger Lords gradually closed in on her, shouting threats at her and instructions to each other, spreading out in groups of three to surround her, and completely oblivious to the danger lurking underground.

  A half-hearted arrow whistled past, grazing Darlac's upper arm, drawing blood. They seemed to want her alive. She instinctively reached for the healing energy inside her, but stopped herself from using it. A few drops of blood on the ground, the faintest smell of it in the air, served her purpose just fine. She drew one of her swords and raised it towards the sky, charging it up with holy power. Curiously, as her bond with Gale grew stronger, the effect of the weapon ritual weakened. Still, every drop of power counted.

  Darlac reined her horse in and turned around, making a small circle. Then another. Then another. Soon.

  Gale screamed danger, ears flattened back, eyes bulging. Now Darlac saw it, too. Something burrowing under the ground headed towards them, tossing up debris in a straight line.

  "On your mark," whispered Darlac, patting the horse on the neck, and wrapped the reins around her left wrist.

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  Gale bolted and leapt into a mad gallop. On their heels, a huge mass of claws and fangs and scales burst out from under the ground, scattering pieces of rock, lunging for the horse. Clinging on for dear life, Darlac veered towards a group of their pursuers, causing the bulette to miss them and kiting it towards the enemy.

  The horse masterfully wove his way on the difficult terrain. The targeted group of Tiger Lords turned to flee, but alas, Gale was faster. Darlac directed him straight into the group, breaking through. She slashed at an arm that reached for her leg to pull her down. Her blade sliced through flesh, bit into bone. She yanked it back in a spray of blood, leaving the useless limb dangling, while Gale trampled down another man who tried to block their way.

  As she gained a little distance from her pursuers, she slowed down to a trot and looked back at the destruction behind her. The last of the three ended up between the formidable jaws, tossed around like a ragdoll. Two other groups homed in on the monster, fueled by a thirst for revenge as well as glory. Perhaps they had a little chance.

  The beast, much too fast for its bulk, was reveling in the massacre, its claws going through leather gear like a knife through soft butter. Shameful or not, two of its attackers saw it better to flee, one was writhing on the ground disemboweled, three were still fighting.

  "Good luck, guys," muttered Darlac under her breath, absorbed in the bloody scene. "This is what you get for messing with Varnhold."

  Thud.

  Another arrow, hitting the saddle within an inch from Darlac's thigh, made her realise that the last group of Tiger Lords still had their eyes on her, and now they meant business. They were getting close, slowly, giving a wide berth to the bulette and its victims, turning the uneven terrain into an advantage, one of them preparing the next arrow.

  Gale reared up and bolted again. It was muscle memory, built by long years of horsemanship, that saved Darlac from getting thrown off. After a few terrifying seconds of imbalance, she regained control – if not over her steed, at least over her own body. Clutching the reins with one hand, her sword with the other, she gave the horse a quick once-over to find out whether he got hit, too.

  Two sets of big, pointy teeth snapped together just a hair's breadth from her knee.

  Another bulette. Inheritor help us.

  The horse twisted to the side, making Darlac lose balance again so badly that she dropped the reins. She grabbed the horse's mane with her left to stabilise herself, and swung her sword at the monster. The blade slipped off the scales, causing no harm, and the razor-sharp claws ripped deep gashes into the horse's rump. Gale screamed in pain and terror. Before the frightened horse carried her away, Darlac stabbed, aiming for the monster's eye.

  She missed her target, hitting the hard plates on the bulette's forehead instead. An unpleasant jolt ran up her arm, and something clinked on the rocky ground. Darlac found herself staring at the orphaned hilt of her sword in her hand.

  It was a good thing she had another sword, not to mention the bow (completely useless against this armoured horror) and the leftover liquid fire.

  "Run!" she cried out, letting the hilt drop and laying a hand on Gale's neck to pump healing energy into him. Gale didn't need much encouragement. He galloped for their lives, as fast as he could, leaving a trail of blood behind, while Darlac fumbled for the flask hanging from her belt. Yet, they didn't make it far before the bulette caught up with them and struck again, knocking the horse to the ground and tearing up his backside.

  Darlac let go of Gale's mane and attempted to kick herself away from the collapsing horse. Just a heartbeat too late. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs, and sharp pain bloomed in her shin, piercing through the adrenaline rush. Worse, she was trapped, her likely broken leg underneath her wounded mount. Bulettes were said to like horse meat above all, but that didn't mean they would spurn aasimar flesh to spice it up with.

  The flask was still in her hand, miraculously intact. With a last-ditch effort, she unstoppered it with her teeth, splashing some of it into her own face, and flung it at the bulette's muzzle as it was about to tear open Gale's flank.

  The sudden surge of light and heat was agonising but harmless for her and the horse. Hopefully, she wouldn't even go blind from the flames trying in vain to scorch her skin. The monster roared in misery and fled in a stench of burning horn and flesh, giving up on its horse meat feast.

  Its roar was answered by the battlecry of at least ten people... and those were definitely not Varnlings.