“Iz!”

Izzy heard her dragon cousin’s screamed warning and was able to move her body out of the way in time to avoid the ogre attacking from behind, but the blade of his flint axe cut across her arm. The wound began to bleed almost immediately and she knew she’d have to get it sewn up. But she refused to worry about that now. Not with the ogre leader in her sights at last. She could see him about thirty feet away. So very close.

Izzy spun, swung the club, and slammed it into the neck of the bastard behind her as he tried to run away. He went down face first and Izzy pulled out her sword and rammed it into the back of the beast’s head.

“Izzy.”

She heard her name called again, this time by a much different voice than her cousin Branwen, but she had to ignore it as she was being attacked again. Gods, the ogres just keep coming.

She blocked the flint mace aimed for her face by using the club she still held in her left hand and cut the thick arteries inside the orgre’s thighs with her sword. She spun and slashed her sword again, cutting a throat, spun again and swung, but her blade was stopped by an obscenely large battle axe. She knew the weapon was not an ogre’s. They only used flint weapons and although deadly were often crudely made. This was a well-made weapon forged by a true blacksmith.

So Izzy struck at the knees with the club she still held. The heavy flint made contact and there was an angry snarl from beneath the heavy fur cape that covered the face and body of the axe wielder.

“Izzy! Stop!”

She ignored the command and swung the blade again. A big gloved hand reached out and shoved her back.

“Gods-dammit, Izzy! It’s me!” He yanked the hood of his cape back, revealing his handsome face and dark blue hair. Some of it in braids with leather strips, feathers, and small animal bones tied throughout. “It’s Éibhear.”

“Yeah,” Izzy answered honestly, “I know.”

Then she pulled back her arm and threw the sword she held directly at his head.

Éibhear knew that because of his size, it was believed he was quite slow. Lumbering was a word he’d often heard used from those seeing him doing nothing more than standing. Yet at that moment when he saw the short sword coming right at him, thrown by a woman who clearly knew what she was doing, Éibhear would say he’d never been so grateful that everyone was wrong. He was fast. Very fast. And it was that speed, being able to drop to the ground in seconds, that really saved his life.

Once he hit the ground, he looked up and saw that Izzy was running right at him. He wasn’t sure if she was coming to finish him off or just kick the shit from him, but the thought of batting her away or blasting her with his flame—stupidly—never entered his head.

He would never know why.

When Izzy reached him, she snatched hisshort sword from his belt and leaped up, one foot landing on his shoulder. She used that foot to launch herself, lifting her body, and spinning in the air. Éibhear turned over and watched as Izzy raised the sword most human males couldn’t lift and shove it into the nine-foot ogre that stood behind Éibhear. He’d been so focused on Izzy, he hadn’t even been aware of the big bastard wearing a human skull on a chain around his neck.

But even with the sword buried in the top of his head, the ogre wasn’t dead yet. He was snarling and snapping at Izzy as she hung there, and that’s when she spoke to the green bastard. Éibhear had no idea what she said, but he was positive the ogre did. And the words were so guttural, so vile-sounding that he knew she was speaking the ancient language of the ogres.

When Izzy finished, she released her hold on the sword and dropped to the ground. With one good kick to the ogre’s stomach, she knocked him on his back and walked around until she was able to look him in the eye. Gripping in both hands the club she still held, she raised it above her head and brought it down once, smashing the ogre’s face in.

It was then that Éibhear realized this must be the ogre leader because all the surviving ogres stopped fighting and began to turn and run back toward the mountains in the distance, probably to choose another leader and regroup. Izzy seemed to know that as she yanked Éibhear’s blade from the dead leader’s head.

“All of you!” Izzy called out while walking back toward Éibhear. “Don’t let them reach the caves. Kill them all! Now move!”

Izzy stopped by Éibhear’s side, looked him over. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“To bring you home.”

“Can’t.” She dropped the blade on his stomach, Éibhear barely catching it before the blade possibly cut something vital. “Not done.”

She turned away from him, dismissing him without a backward glance. “Lieutenant Alistair.” A full-human male rode up to her.

“General!”

“Rally the men. Pull several to get the wounded to healers. We’ll deal with the dead later. I want those ogres meeting their green-skinned ancestors before the moon’s high in the sky. Do you understand?”

“Aye, General.”

“Go.”

He rode off and another female rode to Izzy’s side.

“Fionn. How are we looking?”

“Good, Iz. But there’s still some fight left in the South Valley.”

“Take a contingent and strike them down.”

“Your arm, General,” the woman Fionn pushed.

“Yeah, yeah. I know, Colonel. I’ll deal with it.” She laughed, waved the woman away.