"Then you know less about this world than I first thought. There is no reasoning with an enemy."

"Why not? Maybe one big peace summit would fix this."

"You speak nonsense, witch." He nudges the horse forward and reaches back with one hand, withdrawing a massive sword from its sheath at his back. The scrape of leather and metal scares me. "My forefathers spent nearly a thousand years seeking other approaches, leaving me with eight days to conquer."

The sword is wider than my hands together at the base, the razor edge sharpened to the point it's nearly transparent. The seconds are ticking down on my hand. If I didn't have a front seat to battle, I might understand this approach.

The lines of his enemy are starting forward at a run.

"I'm sorry it came to this and more sorry you have to be the way you are," I murmur.

"I am sorry for neither, witch. My only regret was not finding you many years ago."

I understand why he's fighting without wanting to be a part of it. "This is the only way," I say doubtfully, struggling for some explanation that'll help me cope with what's coming.

"Aye. We destroy three armies or lose it all. You may not be of this world, but 'tis your battle now."

"What happened to the battle-witch before me?"

"She perished in battle."

"So the whole speech about protecting me with your life, about me being invincible . . ."

"You are invincible. I alone know how to kill you." His horse starts trotting. "She betrayed me and I ensured she did not live through the battle."

"Good to know. What did she do?"

"We do not speak of the past, lest we wish to invite its reoccurrence. What I have told you was necessary. I shall share no more."

My mouth drops open then closes.

His enemies are closing in. I push back into him, trying to avoid the inevitable. "I'm not ready for this!"

"Think of the purpose and it becomes easier."

I glance over to our right, where Wolfie rides, weapons in both hands, and legs guiding the horse. To our left is my squire, whose expression is little less terrified than I feel.

He's definitely in the wrong line of work and, apparently, so am I.

Chapter Nine.

The two armies clash like a scene from Braveheart. Until this moment, I thought those movies were exaggerating. What sense does it make to run into one another like this?

A sword flashes before my face. I squeeze my eyes closed and start praying. The knight at my back is slashing and hacking, his buff muscles jostling me around. The horse whinnies loudly and rears, and I open my eyes. We pitch forward as it then kicks back at someone.

The melee before me is utterly insane. Horses, men, and weapons race, swirl, and clash around us in a dizzying, fast-paced display of brutal power. The Shadow Knight has dropped the reins to the horse to use both arms, and the creature is deftly maneuvering, smacking men on foot who get too close with his front hooves and occasionally shooting off kicks with its back legs.

The jolting ride is anything but smooth, and I cling to its mane for dear life, all too aware of the steel slashing near me. If anyone takes off my head, it's going to be the Shadow Knight, whose weapons come close enough to graze my skirts.

A blur of black streaks through my peripheral. It slams into our horse, and suddenly, I'm flying through the air. The belt connecting me to the Shadow Knight snaps. Landing hard on my back a short distance, I stare at the fog above.

"Owwwwww," I groan at last. If my ass hurt before . . . I don't know what I landed on, but it's lumpy as hell.

An axe wider than my thigh splits the ground beside my ear. I yelp and scramble to my feet. One look at the Green Dawn Cave warrior and I whirl to run, only to find another four behind me.

I can't die here. The fleeting thought is accompanied by raw fear. I have no idea how to use the sword I'm wearing and don't even bother to draw it. They'll just laugh at me before dicing me in half.

An idea hits me. Gripping the medallion, I raise it.

"I'll use this!" I cry.

The men back away.

"Now . . . get the hell away from me!"

"Witch!" It's the squire. I can't see him in the battle around me.

Creeping in the direction of his voice, I raise the medallion a little higher when one of the men around me takes a step to follow.

"Witch!" This bellow comes from the Shadow Knight.

"Here!" I cry.

He's large enough to see above the crowd and he's plowing his way through the throng of warriors separating us, chopping down everyone in his path. At the sight of him, the five around me melt into the battle.

I drop the medallion and release a breath. My dress is splattered with blood, my hands shaking.

"I told you not to leave my side!" The Shadow Knight snatches my arm.

I push at him. "I didn't have a "

"Silence!" His roar makes me jump. Sheathing the axe, he pulls out his sword and tightens his grip around me. "Hold on."

Hold on? "Are we going somewhere?" I ask.

His scent is stronger, pulling at my senses. Despite his abruptness, I'm grateful to see him. I don't know how many warriors I can threaten with the medallion before they wisen up and realize if I had any power, I'd use it.

"Aye."

One minute, we're standing in the midst of his enemy. The next, my breath is snatched away, and everyone and everything around us freezes in place. We move among them the way I ran through the trees of the forest. Clutched against the Shadow Knight with one arm, I watch in horrified fascination.

Swords appear to have stopped almost mid-strike while the enemies running to attack us move almost too deliberately to see. The world didn't really stop. It's just slowed down.

Or we sped way up.

The Shadow Knight's inhuman speed has knocked my breath from me. He slashes at those around us at full speed in a lethal dance that leaves no one alive in our vicinity. His heart beats quickly and steadily, his scent wrapping around me with his momentum. He's all but carrying me; my toes barely touch the ground, and there's a weird purple glow around him that I can't explain.

We reach an area surrounded by Black Moon Draw warriors.

The otherworldly experience ends as abruptly as it started, and I begin to breathe once more. My senses catch up to me, the clash of metal and war cries jarring me. The Shadow Knight lowers me to the ground, and I wobble, my equilibrium slow to recover after the wild ride.

"What . . . was that?" I ask, looking up at him. He's no longer glowing and his sword drips with blood.

"Stay behind the line," he orders. "Disobey and I will have your head, witch!" Releasing me, he launches forward towards the battle.

There's no line I can see anywhere. I can't even tell where his army ends and the enemy's begins. I'm in the middle of a buffered area about twenty feet across, ignored by those nearest me.

"Witch!" My squire's cry is panicked.

I search the throngs around me for a glimpse of him and spot him finally. He's a good fifty feet away, trying to flee half a dozen determined pursuers. I cringe at the thought of seeing the poor kid cut down and look around for anyone to help him.

Somehow, he wandered into an area with only a sprinkling of Black Moon Draw warriors. He's trapped, or will be soon, if he doesn't find a new direction. I start forward and then stop, fear piercing me.

Disobey and I will have your head, witch!

Which scares me more: being hacked apart by these soldiers or facing the Shadow Knight after?

"Witch!"

I can't leave him to die. After all, I'm invincible. If I get hacked to pieces, I'll wake up healed. With misgivings heavy in my gut, I dash forward. Most of the men are too focused on the warriors in front of them to notice me. I squeeze the medallion just in case anyone does and make my way towards the direction where my mostly-useless squire is headed.

One blow lands on the shield on my back and sends me sprawling. Spitting out grass, I twist to look over my shoulder. Whoever whacked me is gone. Climbing to my feet, I continue in the direction the squire is running.

The idiot has broken away from the edge of battle and is running straight towards Green Dawn Cave's back-up warriors, who appear to be waiting for the results of their first wave as it ploughs through Black Moon Draw warriors.

"Hey!" I shout.

It's useless. The boy's back is towards me. He's barreling straight into armed warriors.

I am so not a runner. I'm already breathless but force myself to go as fast as I can. My lungs soon burn, my arms heavy, and my legs like wood. Every part of me wants to stop, but I can't let the kid who at least tried to protect me before get hurt.

"Hey!" I shout loud enough that it hurts my throat. "Squire!"

He hears this and twists as he runs. Spotting me, he switches directions, running a wide circle around to avoid his pursuers.

Exhausted and out of shape, I stop and bend over, panting. This is reminding me of the year we had to run track and field events in high school as part of physical education. After my horrible performance, I was never asked to be on anyone's team again.

"Man . . . that kid can run." The squire is rounding back towards me, far ahead of those chasing him, a hopeful look lighting up his face. His sword is gone. He reaches me, breathing hard, but nowhere near as spent as I am.

"Witch, use your magic! You can blast them away!" he says eagerly.

"Take my sword and . . . defend us," I gasp. "I gotta catch . . . my breath."

With a glance over his shoulder, he obeys and takes up a position in front of me, the sword raised like a baseball bat. I'm no swordswoman by a long shot, but I don't think that's the way he's supposed to hold it.

How did I get the one incompetent squire in the army? Is this a reflection of what the Shadow Knight thinks of me? Shitty witch, shitty squire?

"Witch, mayhap you should prepare a spell," he advises.

"Yeah. That'd be nice." I straighten.

The six men are almost upon us.

"What would you think about running?" I ask, shuddering at the sight of their swords. I may survive a confrontation. The kid with me won't.

Whipping around, the squire takes my hand and bolts, all but dragging me with him. He's strong for being so skinny; it's me who slows us down.

Someone collars me, grabbing the back of my dress and yanking me back. I tumble to the ground, inadvertently bringing down the squire with me. Rolling to my knees, I hold up the medallion.

"Don't make me use this!" I cry.

The attackers freeze, indecision crossing the expression of every one of them.

"Kid, come here!" I order the squire urgently.

He complies, scrambling to me.

"Our orders," one of the warriors said to the others, clearly trying to convince himself as well as the others. "The witch dies!"

"Do you remember the last battle of Green Dawn Cave, where the battle-witch annihilated every last member of the army?" the squire cries. "'Twas the greatest defeat in the history of our realm! She will do it again!"

The men freeze in place once more.

"Good job, kid," I murmur. More loudly, I quote the Shadow Knight. "To speak of the past is to invite its reoccurrence!"

"Do you recall how she did it?" the squire continues. "By boiling every man in his skin where he stood!"

Yuck. Is that the type of thing I'm supposed to do as a battle-witch? What a painful way to die. I can't see myself ever doing that, even now.

A look around us indicates the men are still not yet convinced to leave us be.

"Kill her quickly," one says. "We must protect our men."

Shit. They took it the wrong way.

The six close in around us.

I snatch the squire and shove his body beneath mine the best I can, willing the shield at my back to protect us both.

"You can use your magic," he whispers hopefully.