Free Shattered Shields - eARC by Jennifer Brozek, Bryan Thomas Schmidt

and Bzith facing the last pair of enemy warriors. The mottled brothers stood back-to-back, twin double-bladed daggers in both hands, fighting broznich style, their left feet heel-to-heel so each could sense the other’s movements and plan his offense or defense accordingly. It allowed two or three goblins to vanquish twice their number. Against equal numbers, it was only a matter of time before they prevailed.
    Meanwhile, Rethgar advanced relentlessly on his opponent, leading with well-placed stabs and slashes of his iron pike. The tallest defended himself valiantly, but the tireless, feral redcap kept pushing the fighter backward—directly toward me.
    When he was a step away, I stabbed my blade into the back of his knee, penetrating the softer leather at the joint. The dagger point sank deep into his flesh, grating against bone. With an agonized shout, the warrior fell to the ground as I pulled my blade out and sank it into his side, underneath the armor straps. He screamed again, keeping his sword up to fend off Rethgar while clawing at me with his free hand. The redcap slashed the blade away with a mighty swing, then brought the pike around and down to cleave through the tallest’s raised arm and into his nose. The iron spearhead rose and fell twice more, and when it was over, the man’s face was a bloody ruin.
    Another footstep shook the ground, making Reth look up, alarm flitting across his face. He exchanged a nervous glance with me. “Is that—”
    A shout from the other side of the meadow made me look over to see Bzith clutching his side, where the fletching of an arrow jutted from between his ribs. The archer!
    “Help them!” I snapped as I turned to run for the tree line. Before I’d taken a step, a high, terrified yell tore the air. The tallest archer dangled in midair, held captive by the branches of the tree he’d been using as a perch. The living wood wrapped around his arms and legs, pulling his limbs apart unmercifully. His helmet had been knocked off, and pain contorted his brutish face as he strained against his bonds. His mouth gaped open in a scream of pure agony, and when I saw the lower part of his breastplate bulged out, I knew what Nereas had done.
    The smaller branches uncurled from around the archer’s arms and legs. Sliding off the thick limb that had impaled him, the tallest flopped to the ground. His trembling fingers plucked at the straps of his armor, but he was too dazed and weak to remove it. Drops of his own blood fell on his face from the dark-stained branch above. Even with aid, he would die from the terrible wound. Eventually.
    My face remained impassive as I watched him twitch and shudder. I knew Nereas was merciless—a dryad who survives the destruction of her grove has nothing left but revenge—but I had never seen that trick before.
    A strangled grunt drew my attention back to the goblin brothers. With Rethgar reinforcing them, the last pair of tallest was on the defensive, the net-bearer having drawn a flanged mace to assist his partner. They stood next to each other, their weapons a barrier of steel against the two goblins and one blurred redcap.
    Beginning to sink into the earth, I stepped forward to help. As I did, a caprine form hurtled down out of the darkness, staving in the swordsman’s head. The satyr screamed in triumph as he crushed the tallest’s body to the ground. His partner gaped in shock at the sudden death of his partner. Before he could move, he was pierced three times: twice by goblin blades, and once by a needle-pointed satyr’s horn. He convulsed and began to drop as Rethgar wound up and swung his pike with all his might.
    The last tallest’s head bounced across the clearing and rolled to a stop at my feet, his shocked eyes glazing over into death. Panting hard, we all looked at each other as another thundering footstep sounded, accompanied by the snap and crack of breaking timber.
    We all knew what was coming, but Nereas spoke first, using the