That damn hurg was fast. He had punched her in the breastplate, sending her flying into the pond.

  Liandra growled.

  She moved her legs, but she was up to her hips in mud. Hans was fighting Urah, barely keeping up as he lost ground relentlessly whenever he was forced to dodge the quick, ever distracting attacks from the small woman with the whip.

  “Liandra!” Hans called.

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  She glanced at her sergeant. He was barely keeping up against the hurg’s relentless attacks. She heaved her legs, moving out of the mire, but she barely made any progress. She screamed in frustration, slammed her fist into the muddy water. She was stuck!

  How could this happen?

  He called her name again. Just the one word. It told her what she needed to know. Hans was about to be cut down.

  “Godsdammit! Fight, Hans! Hans! Hans—I’m coming!”

  She screamed, heaving as hard as she could, blood suddenly splashing from her face onto her mud-covered vambrace.

  Her nose. It had…

  She was distracted from the light. It was so bright she had to cover her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Hans?”

  Purging Flame—what’s happening?

  “HANS?!”