Loriel did not have the leisure to savor her victory. No sooner had the Prime Demon collapsed than the horde, frozen for an instant by the fall of its leader, surged forward again with redoubled fury. They were everywhere, a sea of fangs and claws closing in on her.
She pivoted, her spear tracing a circular arc that decapitated two creatures. A third leaped over the bodies, its forelegs shredding the air. Loriel ducked under the attack, drove her spear into the demon's body. The creature flew off, struck a group of its fellows, and knocked them over like bowling pins.
But she had no time to catch her breath. A claw slashed her calf. She bit back a cry, spun around, and thrust the shaft of her spear into the attacker's throat, crushing its trachea with a wet crack. The hot, viscous blood splattered her face.
