A warrior screamed as he was dragged over the edge, his armor crunching like a tin can in the creature's jaws.
Arrows flew. Steel bit. The pulsing red blade in Yaz's hand burst to life, humming with power. It sliced clean through a beast that lunged for Karl, the light momentarily blinding.
Then came the roar—low, guttural, ancient. It did not come from ahead. It came from below.
From under the bridge.
It had just stolen a warrior, but it seemed to be an appetizer.
The wooden bride trembled. The Ice on the surface of the bridge cracked. The flames flickered as the entire structure quaked. A giant claw, thick as a tree trunk and slick with river moss, slammed up through the boards, sending men and monsters flying.
The bridge was no longer a battleground.
It was a breaking point.
Yaz's voice rang out again, hoarse but unyielding: "Hold fast! Brace the center—Karl, behind me!"
