Morden and Lira fought back-to-back, their twin coordination the only thing keeping them alive as two Haelves engaged them simultaneously. The brown elves' greater size helped—they could trade blows more evenly—but even they were being pushed back, forced onto the defensive.
The elven warriors were good. Some of the best their clans had to offer.
But the Haelves were purpose-built killers, and it showed.
Jorghan watched this for perhaps five seconds, assessing, calculating. Then he moved.
Not toward the Haelves. Toward the commanders.
His body blurred with speed that exceeded even the Haelves' capabilities, blood magic and enhanced physiology working in concert. He crossed the distance between formations in a heartbeat, his fist already drawn back for a strike aimed at Caden's face.
Caden blocked it.
