With her strength failing, Melcorka held Defender with both hands, blinking as the blown sand stung her eyes, struggling to drag the sword from the suction of the sands. She saw the grey man above her, saw him dip his hand into his bag and felt a wave of agony from her fresh wounds. She writhed, with her grasp on Defender weakening. She knew that if she released her hold, she had lost the fight, evil had triumphed and would rule this realm for an uncountable future.
Another figure appeared, half-seen in the sandy haze. Melcorka blinked as she saw a man in sober clothes, a long staff in his hand. Bradan had arrived at last. Bowing his head against the flying sand, he held a covered bundle under his left arm.
“Brad!” Melcorka croaked the word. She could taste the poison fouling her mouth.
