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The siege engine collapsed inward and shot away like a crushed can kicked down a slope. It bounced and tumbled, shearing through its own escort. A dozen monsters caught in its careening path were flattened to pulp, limbs folding the wrong way as the wreckage rolled over them and left them twitching. No one understood what had just happened. Both demons and humans could only stare in stunned silence.
Ketal lifted his head and let his gaze sweep the battlefield. His eyes moved once, left to right, then settled.
“Three,” he said under his breath.
There were three demons. He moved before any of them could make sense of the instant between the ram’s ruin and the shock of silence. He crossed open ground as if stepping from one stone to the next in a shallow stream and stopped in front of the closest demon.
The Holy Sword’s hilt smashed forward. The demon’s skull caved with a sound like wet timber snapping. Its body rocked and sagged to its knees, then tipped.
“Wait!” another demon barked, finally realizing something had gone wrong.
That was as far as it got. Ketal turned his wrist. The broken hilt reversed in his grip; the jagged shard of blade that remained flashed out in a flat, clean line and took the demon at the neck. Its head thumped and rolled. The body stood a heartbeat longer, then folded.
“You little…!” the last demon snarled.
It had the sense to raise its hands and start the first motion of a ward,...
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