“Stand your ground!” Kham shouted to a half dozen fleeing Summerlander soldiers. “These creatures can be killed! Use ranged weapons! Bows, arrows, spears! Don’t let the vapor touch you—and cover your ears against their screams! Fight, sons of Summer! Sons of the Isles! Fight!”

The storm overhead was brewing with power. Lightning crackled and raced across the clouds. The purple glow of plasma gathered around Khamsin. Ahead, one of the garm circling the Calbernans froze. The long receptor hairs pointed her way by the dozen.

The garm spun and leapt for her, teeth gnashing, blue froth flying from its snarling maw.

“Burn!” she cried, and thrust Blazing towards the beast.

Three bolts of lightning shot down from the sky. In less time than it took to blink, the electric charge passed through her, down her arm, then shot out from the tip of Roland’s sword into the garm as a single, concentrated flow of power. The lightning slammed into the garm, lifting the massive creature off its feet and sending it flying backward through the air. The garm burst into flames and landed at the feet of the Calbernans. The flames promptly turned inward, and within less than two seconds, all that remained was a pile of garm-shaped ash that collapsed in upon itself and blew away in the next gust of wind.

The second of the dead garm’s companions now turned its attention to her, and she dispatched it with similar ease, while the large, blue-tattooed Calbernans threw their viciously barbed tridents at the third, pinning it to the ground. Another island warrior—this one a huge, broad-chested man with long ropes of black-green hair and massive biceps circled by bands of hammered gold—brought an enormous sword arcing down and decapitated the pinned monster with a single, mighty blow. Blue blood spilled out across the snow.

Behind her, Krysti skewered first one, then a second ice thrall with Thorgyll’s spear. The thralls froze solid as stone and didn’t move again. Just to be sure, Kham stabbed each of them with Blazing’s fire and reduced them to ash.

“The garm will die,” she told the Calbernans, “but you have to burn the ice thralls with fire.”

The huge Calbernan who had decapitated the garm gave her a savage grin and whirled to slice an ice thrall in half, then dismembered what was left with a few enthusiastic chops of his blade.

“I guess that will work, too,” she muttered. A flash of white darting through the trees caught her eye. “Watch out!” she cried to the huge Calbernan. She guided a crackling bolt of lightning that incinerated the garm just before it struck the Calbernan’s unprotected back. The shower of hot ash washed harmlessly over the islander, turning his blue-tattooed skin a dull, dusty gray. The man’s golden eyes blinked, and he lifted a hand in a wordless salute of gratitude.

She pointed to another knot of the embattled Calbernans not too far away. “Your friends over there look like they could use some help. I suggest you grab a few of those bows and quivers over there if you know how to use them. They give a better range than those tridents.”

The big, green-haired man barked something in musical Calbernan. The rest of the group plucked their tridents from the dead garm and ran to help their comrades, several of them grabbing bows and quivers as they went. The big man sheathed his sword and snatched up four quivers and a long bow.

“Many thanks, myerina. Good hunting to you.” With a smile, he bowed his head in her direction, gave a graceful, waving salute of thanks, then sprinted after his men.

Kham and Krysti headed off in a different direction to find another target of their own. It didn’t take long. All around the camp, the scene was like something from a nightmare. Bodies strewn everywhere. Blood and blue garm slime mixing together in noxious purple puddles. Frost prickled across every surface. Garm were leaping, shrieking, and spewing blue vapor at everything that moved. Ice thralls were hacking at the living.

The storm overhead boiled with energy. Kham called the lightning and incinerated garm and ice thralls left and right. The ease of it stunned her. The storm was so strong now, she should have been fighting desperately to control it, but she wasn’t. She could feel and shape the flows of air, summon the lightning or disperse it. The diamond in the hilt of Roland’s sword shone like a beacon, and she knew the power of the sword was helping her maintain control over the wild power of her weathergift. With Blazing in hand, she truly was the master of storms.

She and Krysti fought their way across the encampment, dispatching garm and thralls with sword and spear and bolts of lightning. Along the way, she caught the scent of another magic on the wind. Bright flashes that had nothing to do with lightning illuminated the bottoms of the dark clouds to her left.

Kham followed the scent of magic and the light flashes to their source, bracing herself to dispatch whatever was there, only to stop in surprise at the sight of her brother engaged in battle.

She’d thought, when he’d left her to face the garm, that he would remain hiding in his tent. Instead, he’d retrieved his bow and quiver and was shooting Sunfire arrows at Rorjak’s minions. Despite everything, she could not help but feel a measure of pride as each of Falcon’s magic-imbued missiles found their targets, exploding garm and thralls as his fire clashed with their ice. Grimly handsome, deadly, full of grace and skill, he fought like the Hero of Summerlea she’d always thought him to be.

A tug on her arm pulled her attention away.

“Come on,” Krysti said. “Doesn’t look like he needs our help. Not that I’d want to give it to him even if he did.”