The world was nothing but movement and fury. Maggie slashed through the air, a raging wasp circling a monstrous bull. Her halberd whistled, tracing silver arcs that tore holes in the darkness. She aimed at a knot of muscle behind the creature's many-eyed knee.
The metal bit into flesh—a clean, precise strike. A hit that would have sent any ordinary beast crashing to the ground, screaming.
The many-eyed thing barely flinched. The red gash she had carved into its hairy hide sealed almost instantly, like a wave licking the sand. A dozen eyes swiveled toward her, blinking, indifferent. No cry of pain, just a glint of foul irritation. Maggie clenched her teeth, the bitter taste of blood in her mouth. She was hammering at a fortress with a maiden's fists.
Scratch the paint, she thought bitterly. She was only scraping the surface.
