It took the Maelim several days to arrive. That was fine with Ruth. It gave them valuable time. Megan gathered the children, Godshards and normal humans alike, and took them far from the island. While some of the parents went with her, most of the townsfolk opted to stay and fight. They numbered several hundred at least. They wanted to pay back the Godshards for everything they’ve done, and Ruth was in awe of their courage. While Jana and Shawn were ordered to stay with Megan, most of the other Godshards remained at the island. Ember was eager to avenge Mikel’s death, and the rest would rather die at Ruth’s side.

  The Maelim army would arrive early on the third day. A tide of blackened souls and red eyes. Remarkably, they didn’t destroy any of the shore side structures. It made grim sense to Ruth, they wanted to live here, not burn it down. The sea was restless, clearly the sea God Aquarius did not approve of the Maelim’s trespass. The horde kept pouring in until there wasn’t a visible piece of shoreline that wasn’t covered in twisting shapes and red eyes.

  Yet the Maelim had no boats, nor any other means to cross. It was an impasse. The Maelim couldn’t wait the Godshards out, since all parties knew that Primus would no doubt be sending reinforcements to avenge Submersio. Yet Ruth couldn’t wait either, better death than weakness. It would just validate the nefarious senators Clodius kept writing to her about.

  The matter would be decided when a contingent of Maelim broke ranks and dared the surf. Ruth’s eyes widened. These Maelim had some audacity, she’ll give them that. It was hard to see how many were attempting to cross, but it must have been a thousand at least. Ruth scanned the oncoming group, hoping to spot the one that Ember warned her about.

  It startled them all when The Butcher appeared behind them, his armor drenched from the salty water. The townsfolk scattered, even as he raised his hands disarmingly. Yet he wasn’t looking at the citizens fleeing in all directions.

  He was scanning the Godshards before his eyes landed on Ruth.

  Ruth returned the glare. Sheba was at her side as ever as they strode forward. Ember wanted to attack, but Ruth held a hand up. She would deal with this brute herself. Sheba knew what to do and she translated Ruth’s signs. The gestures were angry and bold, sharp and firm. “How dare you trespass on our island!”

  The Butcher tilted his head before an understanding entered his eyes. Then to the shock of everyone, he signed back. “Worry not, Godshard. I can speak on your level.” His sign language was strange to Ruth. It was close enough that she could read it, but some of the gestures were off. A finger missing here, a lack of an arm movement there. It was uncanny, not to mention surprising.

  Ruth tilted her head and signed, “I’m amazed that a Maelim would know Benelim Sign,”

  “No less strange than a human knowing it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The Butcher shrugged. “We have our own Sign Language. It is a lost art among the Maelim. They call me The Butcher, and you must be Ruth? I do not wish to fight. I merely want a home for my people.”

  Ruth frowned. “I don’t wish to fight either. Find a home somewhere else. This island is ours. The Godshards conjured it from the sea, and it forever belongs to us by right.”

  The Butcher rolled his eyes before signing. “I don’t care where it came from. There is only one law in the world. Survival of the fittest, the strong take what they want and the weak must deal with it or die. My people are strong and I am the greatest among them. By right of conquest and strength, I claim this island as my own.” The Butcher’s body language was harder to read, but Ruth could still tell his convictions were sincere, which made his actions all the more disturbing.

  Ruth strode forward, her glowing eyes narrowed, “You talk of strength? In the name of the Gods and the Godshards that came before me, you must disperse.”

  “My destiny is my own, no God can change that. Why do you care about these humans? You’re more like a Benelim in spirit.”

  “Humans have more potential than you think.”

  “Couldn’t the same be said about the Maelim?”

  Ruth’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps. If you truly wish to help your people, then you will leave us alone! Neither of us want this. Let’s go our separate ways. Leave now, and you will not be harmed.”

  The Butcher snapped at those words. His arms trembled in anger, and he barely gestured the signs properly. “You presume to threaten me? I’ve tried to be reasonable, cordial, accommodating, the human way. Now we shall do this the Maelim way. Read my lips!” Ruth could make the words out clear enough. “Get off my island!”

  “Never!” shouted Ruth. She blinked. Did she just say that orally? She didn’t hear it, but her lips and throat moved, and even The Butcher was taken aback for a moment. With a snarl, the warlord whipped out his chain blades, swinging them around and around. He slowly closed the distance. It didn’t hit Ruth till now just how big this Maelim was. She was a tall woman, and yet this brute towered over her.

  She’d never done this before. She’d never attacked anyone, hurt anyone, much less killed anyone. For a moment, she faltered, she was out of her depth! Maybe she could still negotiate? A curt glance behind her strengthened her resolve. The people were counting on her. The vision she saw of Adam standing up to the daemon flashed in her mind. She wondered if Adam felt the same doubt and fear.

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  Now it was her turn to stand up to evil. This was her moment. She looked down on her feet, this land was theirs. Godshards created it, the Godshards must keep it. Ruth prayed that the Gods would give her strength, and that her signs would be swift and sure.

  The Butcher lashed out with a chain blade, and Ruth was shocked by his speed. Her dress had a large tear that wasn’t there before. The Butcher wasn’t letting up either, with a crack that even she could faintly hear, the other blade slammed down. Ruth got out of the way just in time, a dent in the cracked earth lingering where the blade hit.

  Ruth made her first signs quickly, shooting a white hot fireball. The Butcher deflected it easily. Ruth repeated the signs again, and again. The signs only took one hand, so she started signing with her other as well. The barrage was way faster than anything the warlord had seen. The unforeseen benefit of casting nonverbally. One blast got through his blades and snagged him in the shoulder. His cape and shoulder armor was soon little better than tattered plaid cloth and scrap metal.

  Ruth stopped to take a breath. Her Shard was pulsing from her efforts. The Butcher was similarly gathering his bearings. He turned to Ruth, a mix of anger and respect in his eyes. He said something orally but Ruth couldn’t read his lips, it was the only warning she had as The Butcher rushed to close the distance.

  Ruth backed away, desperate to sign her next spell. But the Butcher swung his chains again and again, aiming for her arms and chest. A glancing strike hit her arm, and she grit her teeth as a fresh red line now marked her skin. Ruth’s eyes narrowed as she rushed to sign her next spell.

  A coiling whip of fire roared to life in her hand. She smiled and even The Butcher was impressed. The two clashed their whips together, the competing coils tangled and smashed like fighting serpents. The Butcher lashed out with his other chain blade, bringing it down swiftly. Ruth could feel the air split and see the flash of light from the blade as she barely dodged the attack.

  The Butcher was more adapted with his blades than Ruth was with her whip, and he yanked her forward. He swung her around, sending her careening to the ground. Ruth felt his shadow looming over her, and she rushed to sign her next spell. Not a moment too soon, a blue barrier surrounded Ruth like a dome of protection. In the next moment, The Butcher brought down his chain blades. The blows made the barrier crack.

  Before Ruth could sign anything, the barrier shattered, a blade slashed Ruth across the torso, and she yelped in pain as she was shot back. Fighting through grit teeth, she signed another spell curtly. The Butcher’s feet sank into the mud. He struggled to climb out. Ruth wouldn’t give him the chance.

  She signed another spell quickly, a coiling mass of water shot out from the distant waves. With a final gesture, the water took the form of a fist. The Butcher lashed out with his chain blades, but it wasn’t enough. The fist hit him hard, and he hit the dirt, sinking beneath the quicksand.

  Before Ruth could even cheer, his chain blades whipped out of the sand, grasping onto some nearby rocks. It was all the leverage he needed to launch out of the mud, bringing down his chain blades right after. He was too quick, and the blades bit deep into Ruth’s arms and hands. She screamed in agony, and crimson lines now dotted her arms. The pain was throbbing and hot, and she didn’t even notice the blade coming at her again, slicing through her dress and snagging her legs, drawing fresh blood. With a grunt, she hit the ground.

  Ruth’s eyes were clenched shut. She was wet with blood and in so much pain, everywhere hurt! Never had she known such agony. Her arms felt the worst, could she even sign now? She was as good as dead if she couldn't. She could feel The Butcher’s heavy footsteps vibrating on the ground. He was right on top of her now. Something cold and coiling wrapped up around her neck, yanking her off the ground.

  Five signs. Could she fight through the pain to do five more signs? She shakily opened her eyes. Despite The Butcher’s insistence of caring for his people, for merely wanting a home, in that moment, she saw merely a bloodthirsty killer. The chains were constricting her throat, and her arms ached from her wounds. Ruth turned to the others, their faces aghast in shock. Was this the end?

  Five signs.

  She had to try! First one went fine. The Butcher couldn’t quite see what she was doing. She had to be quick before he realized. Second sign done. It hurt more, almost as much as the tightening of the chains around her neck. She was running out of time. Three and four done. Blackness was encroaching on her vision and her neck was bleeding.

  Five.

  The air sizzled, and the Butcher had no time to react as the inferno engulfed him. Ruth gasped loudly as she hit the ground. She panted heavily as her face pressed against the dirt. She had to get up! Was the Butcher still alive? Was he dead? With great exertion, she sat up. She was covered in blood, her neck felt sore and stiff, and every movement of her arms hurt profusely.

  Her heart sank when she saw The Butcher still standing.

  His armor was shattered, and most of his skin was burned. His tusks had broken off, and one of his chain blades had snapped free, taking away an arm in the process, the metal and flesh laying on the ground next to him. Blood leaked out of his mouth. All pretense of civilization and sanity had left his eyes. They were manic, malicious and bloodshot. He strained to get his remaining arm and legs to move forward.

  Ruth saw the discarded chain blade and she had an idea. She didn’t want to do this, but she had no choice. Besides, given what he did to Mikel and tried to do to her, this would be . . . ironic. With great effort, she signed the spell, it was only three gestures, and she would need to maintain concentration, but it would be worth it.

  With the final sign, the chain blade came to life, striking The Butcher like a snake, wrapping around his neck. The Butcher’s eyes widened, and he staggered back, desperate to uncoil his own weapon. Ruth growled, she wouldn’t let him. She just had to tighten the coil a little more.

  It all came down to this, the battle of wills. The Butcher’s arm, even burned, was muscular and strong. While Ruth’s arms throbbed with every heartbeat, she hung on. With a final thought, the chains tightened, and rewarded Ruth with his neck snapping, and black blood squirting out of his neck like water wrung out of a sponge. The Butcher’s struggles ceased, and life exited his red eyes as he fell onto the dirt.

  Ruth had no time to savor her victory, she collapsed in the next moment, and her world went black.