Free The Rift War by Michelle L. Levigne

preparation now. The contests Archaics indulged in were
all play, even at their most serious.
    A squeal threaded its way through the darkness from the black hole of the tunnel ahead
of them. It faded as it reached them, as if the light of the torches diffused the threat. The foul
smell grew, as if it were being deliberately blown toward them. Grego tried to breathe through
his mouth as he readied his sword and pulled on the mail gauntlets and his helmet. That
maneuver didn't help. He could almost taste the filth in the air.
    Armed and ready now, they could move forward. Grego gathered up the torches while
Emrillian mounted her horse. He handed them to her, mounted his horse, and took back his torch.
They moved at a slower pace than before. Grego was grateful for Mrillis' calming spell,
envisioning his horse rearing and throwing him at a crucial moment.
    The attack started before Grego could see any movement in the darkness ahead.
Emrillian stood in her stirrups. Blue light flashed in a column like a fountain, forward into the
darkness from her outstretched hand. It turned red and expanded as a lithe, brown form darted
out of the blackness. The light flared to reveal a warren of caves on either side of the tunnel, dug
into the walls, going up almost into the arch of the ceiling. Emrillian tossed her torch aside to
grasp her reins. The flame guttered and nearly died as the thin shaft of wood rolled, but flared up
strong as the torch came to a stop. Between it and the light created by Emrillian and Mrillis, there
was more than enough illumination to fight by.
    Grego regretted that, even as he was grateful. Sometimes, seeing the enemy was worse
than not seeing the enemy.
    Mrillis made fireballs that shot straight from the fingertips of his gloves. Mounts and
packhorses stood still, as if accustomed to such pyrotechnic displays.
    A rixil shrieked and squealed like a stabbed boar as it leaped straight at Emrillian. The
force of its collision with the spear of red light she shot at it sent it hurtling backwards, bowling
over four other beasts preparing to leap. The five fought among themselves as the light thickened
and wrapped around them. Grego wished his magic extended to offensive weapons. He
concentrated on thickening the stream of power from his imbrose to Emrillian, and kept
his shield and sword ready, poised to jump into battle if any threat came against her.
    Mrillis scorched seven with fireballs, which did not fade but burned brighter each time
they found a target. The flames followed the individual beasts, reminding Grego of homing
hover-bombs. Then the fireballs grew and wrapped around their prey. Grego turned away,
covering his mouth and nose with his bent arm as the stink intensified. The beasts' greasy fur
sizzled as they writhed and screamed, flinging themselves to the floor, against the walls and at
each other.
    "Emmi, 'ware above you!" Mrillis shouted. He reached into a pouch at his belt and
brought out a handful of what looked like glitter. The silvery sparkles coalesced into three
whirling blades of metal, thinner than paper, that spun toward two leaping beasts. It all happened
in the flicker of an eye, before the echo of his voice could fade.
    Leaping to dodge the blades, one rixil soared over Emrillian's head, landing in the clear
space between her horse and Grego's. He stared for a moment into the burning, sickly yellow
eyes of the beast. As it gathered itself to leap at him, he brought up his shield and swung his
sword with as much force as he could muster.
    Something solid and heavy contacted with his sword, jarring his arm up to his shoulder,
and rebounded against his shield. The blows he had taken in tournaments were nothing compared
to the force of the impact. His horse jerked back from the weight and inertia. Unprepared, Grego
fell forward off his horse. He kept the shield before him, his sword pointing forward. Numbness
momentarily took him as his knees hit the ground. A heavy body hit, driving against