Who Walks in Flame Read Online Free PDF Page A

consume her on impact.
    The Scorch-Walker roars as Bregissa aims the pistol and pulls the trigger.
    The elemental forces of fire and air collide. The explosion hurls Bregissa backward as it whirls the hellfire into a vortex. The magic of the rejuvenated gun of Arkos the Maker prevails and blasts the vortex into the still-opened mouth of the Scorch-Walker. 
    As the flames storm down its gut, the beast groans and convulses, bucks wildly, and wrenches its head back and forth. The Witch-King desperately clutches to the scales and screams words of power. The spell holding back the rain relents. Dark, heavy clouds appear suddenly and unleash a downpour.
    “Gods bless you, Arkos,” Bregissa pants, as she reverently places the wind pistol aside, its barrel melted and bent. Then, ignoring the Scorch-Walker’s throes, she scurries about looking for Kerenthos.
    With one final sputtering roar, the behemoth collapses with a thunderous shudder. Dust and ash fly through the air. In the distance, soldiers cheer Bregissa’s victory.
    Bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, and Bregissa can't find Kerenthos lying amongst them, though she knows roughly where he should be. She searches for the white-steel sword as well, but it too eludes her.
    “Let the Witch-King be dead,” she prays. 
    Her prayer is not to be answered. 
    “You will pay most dearly, human,” says a sibilant voice behind her. “A thousand deaths for the death of my friend—a being older than your world and of far greater importance.”
    She turns to face the Witch-King of the Skithikri. From a sheath on his back, he draws a long, wicked scimitar. Flames creep down the length of the blade. Swiftly, Bregissa draws her saber and attacks. The Witch-King doesn't attempt to parry or dodge. He doesn't even blink. Her blade speeds toward his face, then collides with an invisible barrier only an inch away from his skin.
    Eyes alight, Khuar-na spins his scimitar once then strikes. The blade bites deep into her right knee, slicing bone and cartilage and cauterizing opened flesh. A second swipe severs the fingers of her sword hand. 
    Along with her blade, Bregissa falls, eyes glazed with shock, her fingers scattered before her. Khuar-na readies another attack, but suddenly a mauled, lurching Kerenthos rushes out from behind one of the behemoth’s feet. Wielding the white-steel saber, he lunges toward the Witch-King’s back. As Khuar-na begins to pivot, the blade slides through his protective barrier, pierces his lower back and exits from his chest. Steaming, red-brown blood pours from the wound.
    As Kerenthos twists the saber and drags it free, Khuar-na whips his own blade around and cleaves through Kerenthos’ wrist.
    Hand and white-steel sword fall.
     Kerenthos drops to his knees, clutching at the cauterized stump of his arm. It's not his only wound. Blood seeps from cuts on his chest and back. His left arm hangs useless, the result of a dislocated shoulder, and his left ankle can barely hold his weight. Only adrenaline, and his love of Bregissa, has kept him moving. Now, even that is not enough.
    Vomiting blood, Khuar-na collapses to a single knee as the Eastern soldiers hurry toward them, having defeated the last of his soldiers. But Khuar-na is defiant. Grimacing, he picks up the white-steel blade and flings it away. Then he touches his talisman and chants a spell. 
    Flames shoot up from the ground to form a ten-foot high ring around Khuar-na, Kerenthos, Bregissa, and the Scorch-Walker. The flames burn so hot that the approaching soldiers can’t get within a dozen paces.
    Heading toward Bregissa, the Witch-King stumbles and his eyes dim. Even so, she can’t summon the will to oppose him. Khuar-na recovers and lifts his blazing scimitar toward her.
    Hellfire leaps from the blade to her injured leg, which bursts into flame. She screams, but the flames dissipate after only a moment. A cruel, mirthless grin tugs at the Witch-King’s lips. 
    She can do nothing to