I rolled off dickwad before he could recover and hurried to Idris. “Come on. Let’s get your ass someplace you can hunker down.” A recess in the wall of the west wing looked like a damn good choice. It had probably housed a statue at some point, but stood empty now, perfect for tight defense. I hauled Idris up and put his arm over my shoulder while I gripped him around his waist.

He staggered along with me toward the recess. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings, and spat a congealing mass of blood. “Fuck. Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said. “You kicked ass.” I hurried with Idris toward the alcove. He looked gawky, but in reality he was a solid hunk of muscle and goddamn heavy. Shadows of many engaged demons flitted over us, a reminder of the conflict fought on a different level. A kehza trumpeted and careened through a high window ahead, shattering glass and crashing noisily into furnishings within. As we reached the wall, I glanced back in time to see Amkir getting to his feet. “Crap.”

Idris put his back to the wall of the recess, looked beyond me and saw Amkir. “Shit…shit! I need to re-lay the external aspect or you won’t be able to finish the final ring.” The worry in his face deepened. He seemed oblivious to the blood trickling from his nose and mouth. “And Mzatal. Shit. I lost his support. Not enough time to do a new one with asslord coming.”

I looked toward Mzatal. He was heavily involved, but still maintaining, at least for now. Yet without any support I didn’t know how long he’d be able to hold against both lords, and I had no idea what Vahl would do. Maybe, just maybe, Vahl was honoring something of their codes and not getting directly involved? Amkir moved toward us, head lowered and nose dripping blood, radiating a mega-potency that clearly said he wanted to squash me like a bug.

“Look, you have to survive this, first and foremost,” I told Idris. “I can support Mzatal. You do what you have to do to defend yourself here. Got it?”

“Survive.” He gave me a bloody smile and began to trace rapidly. “Yeah, good plan. Got it.”

I grinned. “Kick some ass, cuz. I’ll hold off Lord Asshole.” I didn’t have any idea if I could really do that, but I hoped that I could at least draw Amkir away from Idris. Taking off at a run, I angled away from the alcove and toward the pavilion, checking to make sure that the lord was focused on me and not Idris.

As I’d hoped, Amkir turned to follow my movement and started on an intercept path. I felt Mzatal take a heavy dual strike from the two other lords, falling back and nearly going down. He needed me back in the ritual so I could focus and maintain our connection. I ran hard for the diagram, but Amkir quickened his pace, and I knew there was no way for me to beat him there.

“Shit.” I skidded to a stop in a move like sliding into third base, pulling grove power into a shield thingy as I faced Amkir. My breath came raggedly as he approached. This was really going to suck ass.

Amkir raised his hand, blood still dripping from his nose, and murderous intent in his eyes. I tried to judge if I could make it around him, but there was no way. He advanced, and I backed. Behind him I saw Vahl skirting the perimeter of the pavilion, eyes on me. Great. From bad to worse. But I was damn glad now that I hadn’t fucked him after all.

Face contorted in fury, Amkir strode forward, breathing heavily. “Insolent cunt,” he snarled as he lifted a hand, coiling potency into his control.

I held the shield of power before me, trying to think of some sort of really witty comeback. “Oh, fuck off, you limp-dicked, piece-of-shit fuckstain,” I yelled. Hey, it wasn’t all that witty, but it would have to do.

His face went dark with rage as he cast the potency at me. I crouched in the utterly wild hope it would miss me. A shadow passed over, and everything exploded in motion as two reyza, locked in combat, crashed hard between Amkir and me, absorbing much of the strike in their own shielding. The rest struck them and seared past me, shattering the stone of the pathway behind and to my left. I swallowed hard. That wasn’t meant to take me down. It was meant to take me out.

I glanced over at the two reyza still locked in combat challenge, and did a double-take. Kehlirik and Safar grappled, potency burns marring both, but the instant I looked toward them, they turned their heads in unison to me for a bare moment, eyes meeting mine. A heartbeat later, they snarled and broke into limping flight, buffeting each other and resuming their challenge in the air. What the hell? Had the two deliberately taken that strike to save me?

I didn’t have time to think about it. Potency crackled, and Amkir gave an angry cry. My eyes snapped to him, and I blinked in surprise to see that Vahl had lassoed Amkir’s wrist with a strand of potency. Amkir, holding a partially prepared strike, turned fully on Vahl.

Vahl spoke in demon to Amkir, but with the grove power running through me, I got the meaning. No, she is not to be killed.

Amkir ripped the lasso away. “You dare to interfere with me?” he growled, calling more power to hand. I didn’t stick around to see how this would play out. I got my ass out of there and sprinted for the diagram. I couldn’t complete the last ring without support, but I could damn well channel everything to Mzatal from there.

In my peripheral vision I saw Idris rapidly completing his defense diagram, and found myself hoping it would be enough to save his ass. A moment later I felt his patterns flare. I did a stutter step in shocked realization and glanced over to him. You gutsy son of a bitch. He’d danced the first seven rings of the fucking shikvihr as a foundation—not for defense but for new support. Well, he’s certainly learning how to deal with distraction, I thought. Doing it on the column would be a walk in the park after this.

With the attention of the various lords diverted, I managed to make it back to the diagram and slide through the sigils. Already I sensed Idris rebuilding support. But will it be enough and in time? Mzatal was damn close to getting his ass kicked. Amkir had abandoned his retaliation against Vahl and had joined Rhyzkahl and Jesral in their attack.

I traced a pygah first and took a precious second to breathe it in, then quickly began to trace the final ring. So close. The ritual spiraled up into a perfect harmony of power. Vsuhl. The name resonated from and with my very essence. Mzatal, with his back against a column at the perimeter of the ritual, took a devastating triple strike that sent him to his knees. I lifted my right hand up above my head as I finished tracing the final sigil with my left. The three lords advanced upon the downed Mzatal.

“Vsuhl!” The name leapt from my throat with startling potency. I felt the glorious heat of the blade coalesce in my hand. White-hot fire surged down my arm and through my core, filling me with intimately familiar power. Gripping the hilt tightly, I lowered the blade. My whole body vibrated from the inside out with the promise of potential, like a swarm of angry bees confined in a sack. I smiled, then sent out a burst of power that knocked the three lords back on their asses.

I breathed deeply. That was more like it. With the combined power of the grove, the culminating ritual, and Vsuhl, I was a motherfucking badass.

Like ripples in a pond, the ritual flared in rings around me. When the perimeter ignited, a sound like a massive gong reverberated, and the carvings on the surrounding columns blazed with prismatic light. Clear tones rang out one after the other around me, unique for each column. The flowering vines encasing three of them vanished in instant incineration. The tones united in a continuous low thrum that fueled me like gas on a fire. The swarm of bees in me doubled in number and furor. I didn’t know how my skin held together with the intensity of the vibration, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.