44. Ayna
Ayna
The night truly is dark when we finally hover in the bushes near the crooked fork in the road we chose for our ambush. Clouds have chosen to clothe the moon in a layer of inky black, and the stars don’t dare look for fear of what will happen if we fail.
They’re not the only ones. Since Myron and I climbed off the roof in our human forms, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that we’re walking right to our death.
Herinor and Royad are keeping watch from the trees above in their bird form. Kaira and Silas are on the other side of the road behind the set of rocks rounded by water and the harsh winds blowing over the plains throughout the season. Myron, Tata, and I crouch in the bushes closest to the road. There isn’t much space for the caravan to pass through; the guards and soldiers will have to walk in front and behind, which leaves us with the opportunity to attack from the side and the air at the same time without needing to fight our way to the actual wagons first. Tori and Royad sketched the plan, and after site-hopping us all in, we’ve scouted the location to confirm what we want to do is feasible.
Thank the Guardians, we don’t need to improvise. Everything is exactly how Pouly described, and all we need to do is exercise patience. I’ve proven earlier tonight that patience isn’t exactly my strong suit, I’m still carrying the proof of those moments on my body.
When Tori site-hopped us in, he sniffed once and gave me a knowing grin. Tata probably has the decency not to comment on my scent or the traces of it that still cling to Myron, no matter that we washed up by the rain barrel behind the stables.
Any moment now, the wagons will come into view. I can hear the clacking of wheels and the snorting of horses in the distance.
The air is so still I could have believed magic is holding the winds at bay had I not known none of us possess such abilities. My heart thumps in beat with Myron’s. I can sense it like an ancient truth even though I’m not touching him. My hands are firmly on my daggers, drawn and ready to stab my way to the cargo if needed.
The fallen tree the males heaved onto the road nicely blocks the path north in a way that makes it look in the darkness from a distance like a carriage could pass, so the caravan won’t turn around right away. Everything is in place.
Clack-clack-clack.
The wheels are close enough for me to feel them turning inside my body.
Clack-clack.
From the nearby trees, a caw sounds.
I hold my breath.
The outline of riders appears first, then the bulky corpus of a horse-drawn wagon. I don’t see any foot soldiers.
Within a minute, they’ll be here.
Sweat slips down my neck into my collar where the steel vines have reassembled like they haven’t ever made way for Myron’s hands. I grasp my daggers harder.
At the side of the rocks across, I spot Clio’s copper braid as she scrambles an inch to the side to stay hidden when the caravan reaches the bend in the road. As they do, I see the foot soldiers.
Pouly had estimated forty-five, but I count fewer. Thirty or less.
With a breath of relief easing my chest, I coil to spring. The first rider reaches our ambush, raising his arm to stop the wagons behind. “We’ve got an obstacle here.”
A second rider gallops up to him from behind the wagons. Both are wearing black and blue from toe to leather head piece. Humans then, from Erina’s military.
“Looks like we can squeeze through.” The man who rode up assesses the tree from above, waving forward one of the wagons. The foot soldiers have taken formation around the two others, spears at the ready. All of them wear the same uniform. It’s not blue and black, though, but a dark gray that is neither Tavras, nor the brown of Flame leathers.
From the side, two birds rise, launching from the branches, diving for the canvas covering the first wagon. They shift as they plummet from the air, swords drawn and slicing into the dusty fabric.
The turmoil of Eroth’s Veil breaks loose when the soldiers realize they are being attacked.
That’s our signal, and I will my magic to comply when I send a streak of silver right for the wheels of the second wagon. Whatever soldiers are guarding this cage, it won’t leave this place.
From the other side, flashes of silver hit the third wagon while Myron’s power cracked the hind wheels of the first one. Horses rear up in panic, screaming and bolting. The axis of the first wagon breaks, and the horses tear free from their reins. One of the riders shouts commands, but half of the foot soldiers are already clashing with Silas and Clio, who leaped out of their hideout the moment the soldiers realized where the attack was coming from. Tori’s sword is a slash of silver in the sparse light, and so is Tata’s as she joins the melee. The soldiers fight like humans, their strength no match for ours. Kaira’s arrows zoom past the rock from where she’s still kneeling, taking down soldiers who attempt to flee.
But my eyes are on the first wagon.
From my hideout behind the bushes, I’m waiting for Royad and Herinor to emerge from beneath the canvas of the first wagon. Myron’s taking down a rider coming in our direction to check where the silver light breaking his wagon came from.
“Where are they?” I’m ready to leap to my feet and bolt for the first wagon. Myron’s hand clasps around my elbow.
“Not yet. Give them time to do their work.” Because he trusts them while I… I don’t trust Erina not to sit in the wagon himself with a pool of the magic-nullifying serum to drown the two Crows in.
My stomach clenches, but I sit tight.
Around my daggers, my hands are itching to slit throats. I’m not used to the bloodthirst, but I welcome it. If we fail at this, we’ll fail at the war. These are mere human soldiers protecting the weapon. We can take them down. If Myron and I join the slaughter, it will be even faster.
I’m about to tell him that when something hits us in the back. Myron’s shield wobbles but holds. Fast as lightning, we swirl around.
The sight of the soldiers in front of us makes my hands shake.
Rows of men in undefined gray armor, seven each, stand no less than thirty feet from us. In their hands, long, bone-white bows are pulled taut, silver-tipped arrows aiming directly at us.
“ Tori!” I shout in my mind and can instantly feel his attention swing to me. “ We ’ ve got a problem here.”
I send him an image of what we’re facing and hiss a curse when I recognize the face at the head of the group. Arebar. A scar from the last fight is running down his cheek, but it’s unmistakably him .
“Flames,” I say to Myron, repeating the same word in my mind for Tori and Kaira.
Like on a silent command, the arrows flare to life, bright orange fire coating the tips and sizzling up the shafts.
They don’t give a warning before they shoot.
Myron’s weight nearly smothers me as he throws himself over me, rolling us into the bushes. His shield pulls in close to us, denser and visible as it glows against the onslaught of flying arrows.
“You all right?” We come to a halt, me on my back and Myron on top of me, a scratch on his cheek that makes me furious, even when it’s just from a branch.
I nod, shoving at his chest so I can get up and face the Flames. They need to reload their bows, and I want to use those precious seconds to strike with my magic. Myron understands, leaping up and pulling me to my feet with him. Another arrow flies, and the bushes behind us burst into flames, making us stumble a step closer to the Fire Fairies so Myron’s shield won’t get eaten up by the heat.
Screams sound from the other side of the fire, and a part of me wants to go check on the others, but they are seven against a bunch of humans, while we… Well, we’re facing an army of at least fifty. And they aren’t here to negotiate.
My powers immediately react when I summon them, even when my pulse is racing and my palms are sweaty. I don’t wait for Myron’s signal as I send the streak of silver into the eerie glow of the Flames’ formation. They have more arrows at the ready, but my magic hits their frontline so hard the three Flames at the center stumble into the row behind them, loosing their arrows into the clouds above.
Myron’s attack follows suit, kicking deeper into the formation, and I hear necks snap where Flames tumble to the ground to never get up again.
A part of me fills with hope. We are strong together, my mate and me. We can do this.
Then, the Flames in the next row step over the corpses of their fallen, filling up the front lines, slender silver blades in one hand and fireballs in the other.
A volley of heat rushes at us, forcing us to sidestep the burning bush and expose our backs to the battle behind. Tori and Kaira are there, but they are still engaged in the battle around the wagons. It’s a small comfort that, as long as they’ve got our backs, at least we don’t need to worry about getting stabbed from behind.
So far, Myron’s shield holds, but he can’t attack with full force and keep the silver layer of protection around us flawless at the same time. The Flames take an organized step forward.
Arrows fly again, this time, over our heads, right into the action, and I think I hear Clio’s curse. I don’t dare turn around.
“ Please tell me you ’ re winning that fight,” I beg Tori in my mind, whose presence has remained at my back despite Clio’s outburst.
“ We ’ ve got your back, Queen of Crows,” he responds, and from the ground, small drops of liquid rock rise, zooming for the flames and knocking the arrows from their bows before they can send the next wave .
“ The human soldiers fight well,” Kaira notes, and I realize that we’re all three hearing our silent conversation while the rest of the group is locked out.
Myron noticed the projectiles Tori created, though. He lowers his shield to let them pass before pulling it back up again, silver vines knitting tight around us.
It takes the Flames a moment to understand what’s going on—a moment we use to deliver our next strike—but once they do, they shoulder their bows and charge, drawing their blades as they cover the ground between us so fast I barely have time to brace myself before they clash with Myron’s shield. Fire cracks along the silver sphere, flames licking and lapping holes into the web of magical threads. Heat lashes at my face as single threads of fire spear through, but he draws the shield tighter, throwing his focus into keeping the danger sealed out.
No matter how strong, Myron can’t hold them off forever, but I can stab at them with my daggers, so I do. One precise slice after the other, I pierce through the shield where it’s already falling apart, bracing myself for the agony of seared palms as I meet both fire and steel. A wide-eyed Flame sees me coming, staggering back just far enough so only the tip of my dagger reaches her. With satisfaction, I watch it nick her throat, right on the column of her windpipe. Her scream ends in a gurgle, and she sinks to the ground, clutching her bloodied throat.
Another Flame is ready though, and her blade hits my forearm. It’s a mild blow, sliding off my leathers as I’m already drawing my hand down and back, but I hiss anyway at the momentary throb of pain, swallowing down the urge to check on it. If I pause, they’ll only close in on us faster, and the heat is already becoming unbearable with every inch Myron’s shield contracts, holes allowing the fire to reach for us like glowing fingers of fire.
“ We need Clio ’ s ice magic!” I shout into the silent conversation. Tori is already on it. Then Kaira steps up to my side, slipping into the shield with ease the moment Myron notices her, like he can will his protective magic to differentiate between friend and foe.
Kaira sheathes her daggers, lifting her palms, and closes her eyes. I want to yell at her to watch out as a streak of fire enters the shield, effectively ripping it apart, and we stand defenseless except for our weapons. The blast of heat singes my skin where it licks over my fingers, and I can feel blisters rise on the back of my hand. Ignoring the burning ache, I summon my magic, preparing to strike, while Myron is already cutting down Flames with his sword, flickers of silver dancing around the blade and lashing at the opponents he misses.
The fire doesn’t stop coming at us, though. Like a gushing river, it flows into Kaira’s hands, dancing and coiling and weaving into a ball so big it could have been the moon Myron watched so intently on the roof an hour ago, and I want to shout a warning.
A smile graces her lips as she whips the fire back into the fighting Flames. Siphoned, I realize, and heave a breath as I watch the orange sphere zoom across the field.
Fire doesn’t seem to burn them the same way it burns us, but they duck and scatter where Kaira’s attack hits. It’s enough for us to strike. This time, Tori’s molten rock joins the attack, tearing through armor and flesh before it solidifies again in their bodies. I don’t even want to know how that feels. The fire is still raging, though, and our progress is limited with the Flames hiding behind a wall of it.
“ Where is Clio?” I call to Tori in my mind as he cuts into a brave Flame’s arm when it steps out of the fire into his range. The soldier’s scream curdles my blood, but I keep fighting. “ We need her ice magic to box in the fire.”
Tori nods right before leaping at the now armless soldier, taking off his head with an efficient swing of his sword. His shield pushes back enough of the heat so we can hold our ground, but just like Myron’s, it won’t last forever.
“ She ’ s a bit busy.” He sends an image of the battle behind us at the same moment he says out loud, “The human soldiers aren’t all human. Erina snuck a few Flames in there as well.”
Fire explodes behind us, followed by screams and the whinnying of horses. Wood cracks, and scorched debris rains down on us. I throw my arms over my head just in time when a splinter of burning wood hits me, leaving blackened scratches on my armor and a bruise on my shoulder.
Water. I need water. If Clio can’t help, maybe I can.
Reaching out with my senses, I pray that I won’t be stabbed in the gut while I scan the ground for a droplet of wet.
There’s no running water answering me, but the clouds above sing like a chorus of the Guardians.
Come to me, I command the water.
It doesn’t move. It’s too high up for me to draw it into droplets and make it rain onto the battlefield .
Clang! A flash of steel tears me from my thoughts, and I leap back in time to avoid a Flame pressing Kaira’s sword into my nose where she blocked his strike.
My heart stops a beat at the certain death I’ve just escaped.
“Thank you,” I mumble, stabbing beneath her arm and piercing through the weak spot of the Flame’s armor under his lifted arm.
Myron shoots me a sideways glance, sword locked in battle. The clear warning resonates through the thread connecting us—not the mating bond, I realize, but the promise I made to him. Promise me there ’ ll be a tomorrow, Ayna, and I ’ ll fuck you, then.
Myron nods as if he feels it too. It’s a binding promise. A fae promise. If I die, I’ll have broken it.
Not that it matters, but what will the promise do to him if he can’t hold up his end of it?
The Flames press forward, heat welling in waves as they switch rows whenever one of them tires or falls. It’s a fucking nightmare we can’t win.
At least, the bushes have reduced to ashes. That makes one less obstacle to watch out for, but now the two battles are melting into each other. I can see it as I turn to the side, standing back to back with Myron so we have the best chances to keep our promise: The wagons are burning, canvas an inferno, and wood disintegrating.
If we’re lucky, we won’t need to take care of the weapon at all. The fire might destroy it all on its own. The horses have long bolted, throwing off their riders, who are now fighting on the ground. They are wielding balls of fire and silver blades that identify them unmistakably as Flames, no matter what their armor looks like.
Too many of the human soldiers are still standing, their heads protected by the helmets hiding most of their hair and necks. It must be smothering, but at least the fire won’t singe them where they’re covered . Erina must have had this armor made for them, not to trick us but to bolster the chances of their survival.
With a deep breath, I summon my Crow power once more, swiping at the Flames who come too close with one dagger while I sheathe the other to have better aim with my magic. Silver light rips from my open palm, striking like lightning, but when it hits the Flames, they don’t die. They stagger back, yes, but they don’t tumble to the ground the way they’re supposed to.
Guardians above?—
It’s not only my magic. Myron’s isn’t as effective on his targets either. And as I watch the Flames stand in their own fire, I understand there is something more at work than just their power.