Chapter Eight #3
“It’s his mom and her sisters,” I called to the others over my shoulder. “They want to capture Owain and imprison him again.”
I’ll give the dragons and the vampires credit—when they needed to, they acted without question. We hadn’t taken more than three steps outside the barn when the others burst out of it, the women being hustled toward the house.
“We are not weaklings who have to be protected,” I heard Aisling protest. “I can help!”
“We don’t know how dangerous Owain’s mother is,” Drake answered, more or less stuffing her into the house via a side door before following us to the front.
“It’s more than just my mother,” Owain said, swinging me behind him as we turned the corner to the front side of the house. “She’s called on Clan Cailitin to help.”
“Oh, shite!” Orla said, and, to my surprise, flew onto the roof, where she hid behind a chimney.
“Why do I have a feeling this is going to be bad?” I asked Owain, peering around his shoulder to watch the black cloud that was moving toward us at an extremely fast rate. Carried before it, the cries of, “The Morrigna, the Morrigna comes!” grew with each second.
“Because it will be.” He turned around to face the semicircle of dragons and vampires behind him. “This is not your fight. Stay with your women. The Morrigna has no cause to harm them or you, but the sons of Cailitin are not to be trusted. They live for war, and care not whom it is against.”
Baltic actually smiled, pulling from his pocket a small blue crystal. “If we can’t fight Dark Ones, then druids will do in their place.”
The front door opened, and Aisling and Ysolde emerged, both looking annoyed.
“Some people keep forgetting what a Guardian savant is—holy merde, are those birds?” Aisling stopped next to Drake, her gaze on the growing cloud of black shapes flying toward us.
“Ravens,” Owain said, his eyes assessing Aisling. “Clan Cailitin has a sympathetic link to them. Berry—”
“No,” I said, knowing full well that he was going to ask me to go into the house with the others. “I’m a knocker. There’s not much they can do to me.”
“Other than remove your head,” he answered, his lips twisting slightly before he said, “But I believe your point is valid. We are stronger together than apart.”
I was a bit startled by that supposition, but decided now was not the time to discuss what sounded perilously like relationship talk, and instead nodded. “I wish I had my bow. I used to be a pretty good archer when I was in college.”
“Luckily, Yrian likes to be prepared,” Becket said as she emerged from the house with an armful of various weapons, mostly bladed.
Finch and Christian, who had stopped by the latter’s car, returned with two large swords.
“And I did archery at college, too. We have a couple of bows, if you’d like to use one.
Yrian added some magical oomph to the arrows, so they should work pretty well. ”
I took the offered bow, one eye on the approaching birds while tightening the bowstring, and slipped a full quiver over my shoulder.
“Weapons? Excellent. They will help.” Owain looked interested as Yrian handed out weapons to the dragons, all but Baltic.
“One-handed sword, or two?” Yrian asked Owain with a politeness that, given our dire situation, made an inner giggle rise. I quelled it immediately with a quick look at the sky.
“I’ll take the bastard sword, and morning star,” he answered, looking through the remaining weapons.
“Dual wielding,” Yrian said with a nod, and hefted a massive two-handed sword. “I prefer the damage of a good long sword, myself.”
In the meantime, Drake was arguing with Aisling, but he stopped when she threatened, “You want me to set your hair on fire in front of the others? I will if you don’t stop acting macho because you think dragons have something to prove to Owain.
I’m not going to put myself at risk, Drake.
I have faith in you and the others to keep us all safe.
Calm your ta-tas, and stand in front of me so I can cast wards safely, without you having a rage stroke. ”
I didn’t have time to watch what was obviously a battle between them, because at that moment, the first of the heralds arrived, spinning above our heads in a circle approximately fifteen feet wide.
“The Morrigna, the Morrigna!” they chanted.
Owain twirled the sword with one hand, showing off a little.
I decided he deserved to do so, if for no other reason than I could feel a sense of confidence in him that I hoped boded well.
“If you wish to fight, I suggest that Yrian and Baltic stand with me, and the rest of you can handle any attackers who make it past us.”
There were some rumblings of disagreement from Drake and the vampires, but just as the main part of the raven swarm arrived, the men fell into place behind Owain, pushing me, Aisling, and Ysolde back against the house, protected by what was basically a wall of half-naked, extremely buff, armed men.
At the window, I could see the remaining women, their faces tight with worry. The door opened behind me, and before I could respond, Becket grabbed me and pulled me inside, saying, “Come upstairs with me. We can shoot from the bedroom window.”
I didn’t argue; I raced after her up the stairs, and into a room done with gold silk Asian wall treatments, taking one of the two windows, while she—also armed with a bow—took the other.
When I flung up the sash and leaned out to look down on the others, the ravens dropped to the ground, changing into human form as they did so.
I had a moment of envy, saying under my breath, “I always play druids in video games for the shape-shifting, but dammit, now I wish I was one for real.”
“Eh, dragons can shift. Yrian’s form is really impressive, so I doubt if the druids have anything on him,” Becket said, nocking an arrow as Jerry pushed past what appeared to be at least twenty men, all of whom had dark blonde hair.
Behind her, one of her sisters followed. I didn’t see the third, but decided I’d focus on the woman who’d employed me.
“Owain ap Aidan,” Jerry said loudly, her voice ringing with a quality that I found hard to define. Next to her, the woman Owain had called Macha stood silent and watchful.
I ignored her and sighted Jerry, deciding to go for a leg. I didn’t want to try to kill her—not that I thought I could with only a bow—but didn’t have the same qualms about hobbling her.
“Before the Sons of Cailitin, I declare the time of repayment is upon you. You will return the boon lent to you, or you will be destroyed.”
“Angharad ferch Cailitin,” Owain said, giving another one of those braggadocio sword twirls, “in front of my twenty-seven uncles—”
“It’s twenty-one, actually,” the nearest druid interrupted, gesturing to the others. “The other six are in Scotland, protecting a forest from greedy developers.”
“I had to leave them to come down here,” a second son said, shooting a not very friendly glance toward Jerry.
“And I was in charge of the evening’s entertainment.
We were going to have a ceilidh, and I was going to dance with the owner of the local pub.
She has plentiful breasts, and loves me to drizzle warm marmalade over her belly before I lick it off. ”
Silence followed that admission. Jerry pierced her marmalade-licking brother with a look that would have skewered a mortal to the wall, then returned her focus to Owain.
“No,” he simply said, obviously deciding to forgo all the formal declarations.
Jerry smiled. “As you will.”
I pulled back on the bowstring, waiting for the right moment to let the arrow loose, but to my horror, instead of charging Owain, Jerry and her sister exploded into what appeared to be a couple of dozen ravens whom swarmed and completely surrounded him until all I could see was a massive moving cyclone of ravens.
The druids, most of whom were armed with staves, swept forward past the raven-covered Owain, some casting spells at the dragons and vampires, while others engaged in physical contact.
Next to me, Becket’s bowstring sang as she pumped arrow after arrow into the attacking druids, while on the ground, Yrian and Baltic were in full first-line defense mode.
I would have thought that their swords would make short work of wooden staves, and I suspected by the expressions of confusion on their respective faces, they thought the same.
They were wrong. In that moment, I realized why Owain was so concerned about his mother bringing her brothers to the fight.
They weren’t a bunch of tree-loving druids waving around staves—they had some serious magic flowing through their veins, and it splashed out in front of them, causing Yrian and Baltic to leap backward to avoid being caught in it.
I didn’t hesitate. I spun around and ran out of the bedroom, leaping down the stairs in a manner that should have ended up with me breaking my neck, but I was powered by fear, worry, and fury, so by the time I hit the entrance hall floor, I was in full fight mode.
I stopped at the door, and let loose a rapid volley of arrows between Aisling and Ysolde, who were casting wards and arcane balls, respectively.
I shot seven druids, the arrows piercing their chests with a faint golden glow that I honestly didn’t expect would do much damage.
I was mistaken in the potency of the magic with which Yrian had laced the arrows. The druids whom I picked off in their attack on Baltic and Yrian exploded in a shower of light that caused those nearest them to pause.