Chapter 30 Dylan #2
Her face was twisted in confusion as she studied my bicep, but her attention was pulled away when the Cyhyraeth slammed its clawed wing into Jazz's chest, sending them flying across the camp.
Jazz landed at our feet, face down in the damp ash.
But they waved an arm above their head, murmuring a pained I'm fine.
Non helped Jazz to their feet. “Are we doing this or what?” they wheezed, brushing off Non's fussing.
Non gave them a stern nod, turning back to me.
“If your reaction to this plan is anything like Jazz's, you aren't going to like it one bit.
But I'm asking you—no, I'm begging you—to not intervene and focus on what you need to do.
Get your people to the trees and through the summoning circle. We'll manage the rest.”
My mind screamed with alarm bells. I knew this was a terrible idea. The way Non begged me not to interfere told me all I needed to know: she was going to do something utterly stupid.
But I wanted to trust her, and more importantly, I needed her to trust me.
Giving her and Jazz a small salute, I made my way back to the encampment. Lleucu and Caerwyn found me on the way.
“Any survivors?”
Lleucu shook her head. “If there were, they've likely fled into the forest to take cover.”
“We'll send someone to scout for them when morning comes,” Caerwyn said, patting me on the back.
I relayed to both of them what Non had asked. Lleucu only shrugged, but Caerwyn looked as concerned as I felt. “Something about this seems off. I know you said she took well to the basics of summoning her Arf. But taking on three Cyhyraeth without having any control over her power is suicide.”
A screech overhead had us all looking back up to the skies. The two beasts Zenn had gone after were now flying towards us, heading straight for Non and Jazz.
Zenn and a few other Witches found us, all of them bloodied and out of breath.
“I don't know what happened. They were attacking us one minute and then turned their attention in this direction and flew off in the next. Looked like they could scent something.”
I showed Zenn the now-faint pink scar on my arm, and he nodded in understanding, wiping the black blood off his face.
Caerwyn gave the group their new orders to leave the beasts and focus on getting the Coven to the summoning circle. Although they looked hesitant to leave the slaying of the beasts in the hands of Non and the child of the Southern Coven's Ledr, they obeyed Caerwyn without question.
I couldn't take my eyes off Jazz and Non; the latter was focused on the two Cyhyraeth flying towards them. Jazz continued to land hits on the third as it swung its claws at them.
“What do you think they're going to do?” Zenn asked, stepping to my side.
I opened my mouth to respond but was distracted when Jazz hit the beast in its jaw with the blunt end of their staff. It was enough of an opening for them to flip Rhongomyniad and bring the end with the blade down on the creature's neck. Its black blood splattered as it hit the floor and rolled.
Both Jazz and Non looked exhausted. Non's satin dressing gown was almost transparent with all the black blood that coated it. But to give credit where credit was due, they were already halfway to ridding us of the beasts.
The two that Zenn had been fighting landed behind the body of the headless beast Jazz had ended. They opened their maws and sprayed the cadavers with a yellow saliva that smelt putrid. Two of our Witches started heaving at the rotten smell.
No one moved as we all watched the bodies sizzle under the toxic spit.
Nothing seemed to happen for a long moment.
Jazz and Non remained frozen, terrified that the beasts would spray them with the same substance.
Then one of the bodies began twitching, a wing emerging from the liquid, then a clawed foot.
Within minutes, the two slain Cyhyraeth emerged from the yellow liquid, unharmed and very, very pissed off.
“Efnisien, help us,” Zenn breathed.
I was moving towards Non in an instant, but was hauled back by Zenn, who gripped the back of my shirt.
“Didn't you say you want her to trust you? Then let her do what she needs to do.”
“And get herself killed? We need her alive, not dead,” I snarled.
Zenn's jaw worked as he studied the four beasts who now circled Non and Jazz like they were dinner. “We know who ordered this attack, but why he did it is still unknown. But if she dies by the hands of one of his own underlings, then her blood is on his hands and not ours.”
He was right; Zenn was always fucking right. But I didn't give a damn. I would gladly pay the price for disobeying a blood oath.
As I pushed out of his hold, a searing pain washed over me, causing me to fall to my knees. The source of the pain came from my palm, and as I looked down at the scar left by the blood oath, it glowed a bright silver.
Paralysed and useless, I looked up to see Non taking a few steps away from Jazz. They lifted both their palms and fired a bolt of light straight at Non's chest. Her whole body was consumed by the silver light. When it faded, an identical copy of Non stepped out of the shimmering light.
The copy took a long look at their surroundings before sprinting towards the burnt wasteland that was once the far side of the Western encampment.
All four of the Cyhyraeth took off after her.