The pillars solidified into ornate metal columns, red and glowing with heat. Each column, about two and a half feet in diameter, towered forty feet high. Two priests in front, one behind, still arranged in a triangle.

And what the hell were they doing now?

The wolf angled around the pillars, keeping far enough back to tolerate the heat. The arrows weren’t cutting it. I’d have to get close. Climbing up one of those pillars would be a bitch. Nothing I had could slice through them. Even blood weapons had their limits.

The priests clapped their hands. Fire shot out of them, colliding in the center of the triangle. A deafening thunderclap shook the plains, the sound of a colossal amount of magic released at once.

The fiery glow flashed with white and rained down, flowing into a bovine shape. A giant three-headed bull hit the ground. The steppe shuddered.

The beast raised his head. Twelve feet long, eight feet tall, and eight feet wide, with horns the size of sabers, it was flesh that emanated fire. Metal scales shielded its sides, chest, and back, and the heat surging from it warmed them to a dull red. The Bull of Tophet. In Sienna’s visions, she saw him rampage through Atlanta, setting the city ablaze.

Not today.

I emptied the canteen on myself and sliced across my thigh. My blood sparked with magic. The undead blood from the canteen reacted, shooting out in a multitude of streams and arching over my back, weaving itself over my body, forming a flexible cuirass over my chest, pauldrons and vambraces over my arms, cuisses and greaves over my legs, and a helmet over my head.

The bull dug a hoof the size of a turkey platter into the ground. Flames swirled along his hide. His six eyes sighted me. He blew fire out of his nostrils and charged.

I pushed the wolf into a gallop. It flew over the ground-raising clouds of ash with its paws. The drumbeat of the bull’s hooves shook the steppe. Fighting him head-on would be suicide. I had to take out the priests. They were the ones feeding it power.

The arrows were out. Trying to climb the pillars would burn through the armor and my fingers. Throwing Dakkan was pointless. They were too high.

I glanced over my shoulder. The damn thing was gaining. How in the hell could something with that much mass run so fast?

That was a lot of mass moving at a great speed.

I twisted the wolf into a tight turn, leaning so far out of the saddle my body was parallel to the ground. It skidded, turned, and we sprinted back to the pillars.

The bull tore past us, unable to make the turn in time. A bellow of rage tore from the beast.

Chase me, you stupid cow.

The bull came around like a barge turning and zeroed in on me, picking up speed. Faster. Put some of that bovine muscle into it.

The bull bellowed again, coming fast. The wind fanned his fire, and flames streamed from him like some hellish mane. He was gaining.

Seventy feet.

Fifty. The bull lowered his heads, six horns ready to gore me.

I aimed straight for the pillars.

Thirty. Heat scorched my back through the armor.

The wolf shot between the right and rear pillar, its sides softening from the heat. The air in my lungs burned.

The bull plowed into the rear pillar. The metal column careened, tilting, the priest atop it scrambling to maintain his purchase.

I twisted the wolf into a turn.

Three of the bull’s horns had pierced the pillar, biting deep into the red-hot metal. He lurched to the right, but the horns remained stuck, trapping two of his heads.

I dropped my bow and snapped Dakkan together.

Instead of backing up and pulling his horns loose, the beast pushed forward. The pillar held. He shook his left head back and forth, trying to rip the horns free through the metal. The pillar shuddered, swinging.

I darted in. Heat slammed into me like a suffocating wall. I plunged Dakkan into the bull’s captive head, straight into his ear. He brayed in fury and pain. I stabbed it again and again, in the ear, in the eye, in the nose, over and over.

The bull roared, throwing all of his weight to the side, trying to get away from my spear. Something snapped. The horns ripped through the pillar’s side. The metal column sagged, toppled, and plunged to the ground like a felled tree.

The priest atop it had no time to react. He flailed, his robes flaring out like wings, and fell. He hit the ground and found me there, above him. I plunged Dakkan into his skull.

The ma’avir convulsed, his robes flapping. I vaulted onto the wolf, and we broke into a gallop.

Go, go, go.

With a deep bellow, the bull gave chase. His hooves smashed into the jerking priest. The ma’avir exploded.

The blast wave slammed into us, the heat agonizing despite the fifty yards between us. The wolf stumbled, its melting legs too soft to hold our weight. I jumped and rolled through the ash. Pain stabbed through my left thigh.

A horrible scream deafened me, like a human howling in agony into a copper bell. I clamped my hands over my ears.

The scream rang out and died. The shaking ground announced the bull bearing down on me.

I jumped to my feet.

The beast tore toward me. Only two heads now, one of them with half a horn. Fifty feet, twenty…

Steady, steady…

Now.

I jumped aside. The bull’s momentum carried it well past me, too fast to stab.

The wolf limped forward, its legs a soft mess of bending metal.

The bull slowed, turning. Stabbing those thick necks would be like trying to saw through a telephone pole with a pocketknife. The legs were a better option. It couldn’t run without its knees.