CHAPTER ELEVEN #2
Again and again, I swung out with the scythe—slicing through wyvern scale, slashing wings, lopping off tails, hacking through claws, cutting into snouts and legs.
Again and again, they lashed out with their stinger-tipped tails like whips—and yeah, fucking ow. A few also managed to snatch someone with their talons only to promptly fling them on the ground. Other wyverns battled Phoenixians in the sky, snapping their jaws at their limbs and wings.
One stabbed out at my neck with its stinger. I hissed at the cold flash of pain and brought the scythe down hard, hacking right through its tail. It reared back with a screech, yanking back what was left of its tail so abruptly that it sprayed blue blood everywhere.
Nice.
The same wyvern swooped down, snatched an ork from the ground with its claws, picked it up … and dropped it right on the battlement in front of me. Fuck.
The ork snarled, a berserker rage gleaming in his eyes—and little else. He had to be in some serious pain—a mix of oil and wax stuck to his gray skin, melting it from his scalp and cheekbones. Yet, he didn’t hesitate to bring up his sword.
A shimmering energy blast smacked into his side, sending him sailing back to the ground below. I would have sighed in relief, but then I noticed other wyverns were dropping orks along the battlement.
Ah, shit.
Forced to divide our attention, we went at both orks and wyverns hard.
Swords were swung. Cold orbs were thrown.
Energy was blasted out. Delphiae called on their wooden armor and lunged at the orks.
Lykaons and Nemeanites shifted and pounced, knocking down orks and savagely tearing chunks out of their flesh.
One ork almost shoved me off the battlement. Gritting my teeth, I went at him—carving, hacking, slashing, and stabbing. Finally, his dead body hit the stone floor … and my gaze clashed with that of Talon, who’d seemingly just decapitated another ork with his two-handed sword.
Relieved to see he was relatively uninjured, I went—
My eyes shot wide as a wyvern sailed toward him. “Behind you!”
He whirled, shifted his grip on the sword, and lunged forward like it was a spear. The wyvern couldn’t halt its descent in time—it pretty much impaled itself on the blade.
Another of the winged serpentines launched itself right at Justus, snapping its jaws down hard.
And bit off his fucking arm.
I gasped, but the sound got lost among his pained cry. A female Lykaon rushed to his rescue, clawing at the wyvern—which then snatched her up with its claws and dropped her to the ground below.
Fuck these creatures.
Satisfaction curved my mouth as the offending wyvern was swiftly and brutally taken down by a lash of Talon’s power.
I whipped my head to the side as I saw something rush my way. Another ork. It raised its sword, and I slammed up my scythe to parry the blow. We fought fast and hard, clashing blades over and over.
I swerved as he stabbed out. The sword blazed across my side, wrenching a hiss from me. I went to strike back, but my foot got snagged on something. The string of my bow. I kicked out, sending it whipping off my leg … but fell to my butt in the process.
The ork brought his sword up high but then stumbled to a quick halt, the life draining from its eyes. It slumped to its knees just as Ajax pulled back his spiked, blood-spattered mace and turned away.
I silently thanked him, shoving the corpse aside.
Right then, a wyvern landed on the battlement ledge right in front of me, perching itself there like a gargoyle. Its vivid green gaze bore into mine as a grating growl crawled up its throat.
I struck out with the scythe, but it jerked back fast.
Opening its jaws wide, it roared and—
A lash of gold cracked the air as it rammed into the wyvern. The feral light in its eyes dimmed just before it burst into ashes.
I jumped to my feet, intending to give Talon a nod of thanks, but my attention zipped straight to the ork bearing down on me. He swiped out his sword wickedly fast. I leaned back, but the sword sliced into my chin.
Gritting my teeth, I lifted my scythe … just as Khalida materialized. She snatched him by the collar, threw him off the battlement, and then winked at me before flying off.
Relief fluttered through me at the knowledge that she was okay.
Looking around, I saw that the number of orks on the battlement had fizzled down. Those who were left standing were quickly being overpowered. Only four wyverns remained in the sky. Three were deep in battle with Phoenixians.
The fourth was hurtling my way.
Not at me. No, it meant to fly over me—possibly to try and reach the Sovereigns’ fortress.
I raised my scythe high, the blade angled just right … and the tip sliced right into the wyvern’s underside as the creature flew past.
I flinched as blood and all manner of gory crap rained down on me. The ear-piercing screech it let out preceded the loud thump of its body crashing into the bailey.
I surveyed my surroundings yet again. No more orks stood on the battlement, and the sky was blissfully empty of wyverns. A breath shuddered out of me. Licking my dry lips, I peered down at the scene below as I wiped at the mess on my face with the sleeve of my tunic.
“They’re fleeing,” I noted breathlessly, watching as orks and hounds dashed back into the forest. Why the hell would they flee?
“Or they were called back,” said Keyes, panting.
There were some orks and dogs left near the walls, but they were either dead, dying, or severely wounded.
Deimos’ creatures were chomping on or hauling some away.
Meanwhile, flying Phoenixians were plucking the bodies of officiates and candidates from the ground before they, too, could be eaten or taken.
The Phoenixians flew them straight to the garrison.
“A bunch of us will go out there and finish off what’s left,” Keyes announced. “But let’s wait to make sure there are no more surprise attacks coming.”
I held my scythe steady as we waited. I tried not to think about Layna; tried not to remember that moment when her eyes popped wide in fear just before she fell to her death.
My stomach twisted because, yeah, I failed. Failed miserably. I pressed my trembling lips together as the image of her fall once more played out in my mind.
I closed my eyes, a lump building in my throat.
It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t. Her death had been as senseless as that of any officiate.
The Dark Land half-bloods didn’t need Deimos.
Didn’t need to launch attacks. Didn’t need a fucking throne.
But they repeatedly threw their forces—usually individually, but now seemingly as a unit—at the Black Tapestry regardless.
Opening my eyes, I swallowed hard, the movement making an audible click. I hadn’t known Layna well, but I’d liked her. Liked her a lot. Her loss would leave a hole in our group, just as it should.
Gods, Jelani was going to be a mess.
Eventually, feeling satisfied that the battle was over, Keyes dismissed all but a few. I scooped up the bow and quiver, wincing when I saw they needed repairing.
Skirting the fallen wyvern, I silently tromped back into the garrison. The air there was a mix of grim and all business.
Injured people were gathered near the apothecary, some in a terrible state—more particularly Justus.
Among the wounded, Quillen and Soule stood in only breeches and boots, putting salve on their chest injuries. Like myself, they sported stab wounds and claw marks and mean gashes. Each of mine burned and throbbed like a mother, more so the one of my side.
But I was standing. I was alive. Unlike …
My eyes drifted to the other side of the garrison, where bodies were neatly placed in a row on the ground. Vesper and Layna were among them. Officiates stared down at the corpses, their expressions sober. Gods.
My gut tightening, I crossed to Quillen and Soule. “Glad to see you two are relatively okay.”
They both winced at the sight of me. Well, who wouldn’t? I had wyvern blood dripping down my hair and face to soak my clothes.
Quillen rubbed at his nape. “You, uh, you’ve got something on your …”
“I’m aware that I look a mess,” I said. “Have you seen Khalida, Nakoa, or Jelani? Or do you at least know if they’re okay?”
“They’re fine,” Quillen assured me. “I’m not sure where Jelani is—he wandered off a few minutes ago. But I know the others hung back to clean the battlement of gore and body parts.”
“Jelani’s probably somewhere near Layna.” Soule cleared his throat. “I didn’t see her fall, but I heard about it.”
I swallowed. “I’m sorry you lost a good friend.”
He cast me a sad smile. “It wasn’t the first time. I’d like it to be the last, but it probably won’t be.”
“You should go see to your wounds, Anara,” Quillen recommended. “The sooner you do it, the faster they’ll heal.”
And while I was still enduring the ordeals of Xalbia, the last thing I needed was to be stuck with not-yet-healed wounds—they would weaken and distract me. “I need to return the weapons first.”
As I took them back to the armory to be cleaned and fixed, many people did a double-take at the sight of me. Some even grimaced in disgust, which made me huff. They didn’t exactly look like spring chickens themselves. We were all a mess.
Leaving the armory, I lifted my tee to examine to slice on my side. My brows lifted. It had stopped bleeding and was already beginning to scab over. A quick look at my other injuries confirmed they, too, were healing well.
Still, some salve would help speed things along. I started making my way to the apothecary while also looking for some sign of Khalida. She was nowhere in sight, but I spotted Jelani crouched on the ground not far from the dead bodies.
My heart squeezing, I walked over to him, noticing how very deathly pale he was. He held a fist to his mouth, his expression a mask of stark grief.
I knelt beside him, silently wincing as the move caused the deep slice on my side to throb. I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I croaked, not knowing what else to say; wishing I could say something that would help.
He swallowed. “I can’t believe she’s gone,” he said without looking my way.
Neither could I. It was utterly insane how quickly someone could quite simply be plucked from the world.
“You were right in what you said. I put off going after what I wanted, thinking I had time. I should’ve known better. Shouldn’t have taken for granted that she’d—” He stopped, his voice breaking. “Fuck, Anara.”
I was about to insist he not torture himself with stuff like that, but then I heard footfalls coming our way. Mere moments later, a shadow fell over us.
We both looked up to find Talon stood there, the image of a conquering warrior. Blood—some of it red, some of it blue—dotted his skin and ripped clothes, and he had faint marks which were likely recently healed wounds.
Both Jelani and I rose, and I had to again bite back a wince as my side-wound protested.
A few inches taller than Jelani, Talon stared down at him, his expression hard but one of … commiseration. He clasped Jelani’s arm, conveying his compassion with his gaze alone.
His eyes watering, the Delphiae nodded and cleared his throat.
Talon’s attention switched to me, and his face darkened.
It was only then that Jelani looked at me. He blinked, flinching back. “Damn.”
“I know, right?” I muttered.
Talon’s brow creased at the tingly spot on my neck where I knew I’d been stung.
I lifted my hands. “I’m okay, the mark isn’t itching or burning; the toxin isn’t impacting me.” That didn’t ease his frown any.
“The spot isn’t red or swollen, so I’d say your system is fighting it off just fine,” said Jelani . “Still, there might be some concoction in the apothecary that helps combat toxins.”
And it would probably taste like ass, like most concoctions. “I’ll nab some when I grab some salve. I haven’t treated my wounds yet.”
Hearing that, Talon pointed in the direction of the apothecary, his expression sober.
“I’m going, I’m going.” I turned back to Jelani and gave his shoulder another squeeze. “You know where I am if you need me.”
Once I’d tended to my wounds, I moved toward the stables, meaning to nab some clean clothes to take with me to the bathhouse, but then I saw Khalida coming toward me. Her mouth curved in relief at the sight of me, but it didn’t quite reach her grief-filled eyes.
I returned her weak smile. “I’d hug you, but …”
Rolling her eyes, she pulled me into a quick hug. “What’s a little wyvern blood and guts between friends?”
I gave a weak snicker. “I can’t believe …” I trailed off as other voices began to fall quiet.
“Here come the Sovereigns,” whispered Khalida as they stormed over to Talon and Ajax, demanding every detail of the battle. Like last time, they did a lot of blustering and pacing and expressing their displeasure.
I leaned into Khalida. “Daedalus’ territory is home to orks, right?”
“Yes,” she confirmed.
“And the wyverns live in the caves where Medea rules a small city?”
She nodded. “They do.”
I scratched at the dried blood sticking to my face. “And the hounds live near Theseus … so it would seem that all three of those half-bloods played a part in what happened here tonight.”
“Yes, it would.”
“Just as Theseus had the aid of Scylla last time.” Frowning, I turned to her. “What in the hell is going on?” Because none of this made sense.
Her face sober, she gave a short shake of the head. “I have no clue, Anara. Not a single one.”