"Kill him! Kill him for me!"
Grazdan let out a hysterical shriek.
He pointed his curved blade at the lone Unsullied who had stepped forward, roaring madly at the mercenaries and overseers he had paid so dearly to hire.
"Whoever kills him gets a hundred Gold Dragons! No! A thousand! And a hundred slaves!"
But no one moved.
The mercenaries who normally lived for bloodshed were deathly pale now, their weapon hands trembling.
They stared at that formation of fire and steel, their calves cramping with fear.
Was he joking? Charge in and die?
Whoosh!
Even as Grazdan continued his futile roaring, the flaming spear left its wielder's hand!
It carved a blazing arc through the air with a piercing whistle, yet it flew toward none of the slave masters on the platform.
Thunk!
The spear drove straight into one of the slaves carrying the platform!
The burly slave did not even grunt. The tremendous force hurled him backward, pinning his body to the muddy ground behind him.
Flames engulfed him in an instant.
With one of its supports gone, the ornate platform lurched violently to one side!
"Ah!"
The slave masters on the platform cried out as they stumbled over one another. Several rolled straight off into the snow, groaning in pain.
On the dragon's back.
Lynn watched the wretched slave masters below and slowly raised his hand.
Then he gently snapped his fingers.
Snap.
The faint sound vanished beneath the howling wind and snow.
Yet at that moment, an even stranger change swept across the battlefield.
The snow grew heavier.
The cold became even more biting.
On the ground lay the bodies of slaves slain by the Unsullied's flaming spears, the flames on their bodies long extinguished.
White snowflakes settled on their charred bodies, soon coating them in