Chapter Forty-One
The sun flushed the color of blood when the battle began, and it soon became apparent that Aemyra’s army held less of an advantage than previously thought.
“Bronwyn would say the sky is a bad sign,” Fiorean shouted over the melody of battle, queen and king fighting side by side, together with their people.
Aemyra was praying none of her soldiers would use the bedlam to stab Fiorean in the back.
“Bronwyn isn’t here, and I say it’s just the fucking sunset,” Aemyra said, breath coming in great gasps as they fought through row after row of Covenanters.
Terrea’s hormones were surging and the only emotions coming through the Bond were fury and discomfort. Aemyra tried her best to shut her dragon out.
“This plan will work. We just need a little more time,” she said.
With fewer phoenixes above the battle, it would take a little longer, but they just had to hold off the Covenanters until everyone got into position.
“Cailleach have mercy,” the soldier closest to Aemyra said as an earthenware pot filled with flaming pitch exploded to their left. Fire-tipped arrows were volleyed back.
Gritting her teeth, Aemyra could feel Terrea’s indecision surge through the Bond. Her dragon not knowing whether to pour fire across every Covenanter here or fly leagues away and settle on her nest.
Eyeing the massive crossbows stationed every few meters atop the walls, Aemyra hoped for the latter.
Feeling the same emotions through their mental link, Fiorean met her eye over his sword. It was dripping red and he had a savage expression on his face. Aemyra was a little ashamed at how attracted to him she was.
“We can still do this without the dragons,” she said desperately, knowing how difficult they would be to control once let loose.
When six phoenixes flew over their heads, determined Dùileach dangling beneath, Fiorean replied, “At what cost?”
Unable to look away, they both watched as Riya’s warriors aimed for the trebuchet, willingly putting themselves in range of the chemical agents.
Two phoenixes killed the Covenanters operating it at the base, their Dùileach screaming as droplets of the rejection agent landed on their skin.
They fell from claws and were set upon by soldiers on the ground.
Their dying screams were drowned out by the grief-stricken screeches of their beathaichean. Just above, the other warriors disarmed the trebuchet, passing the enormous clay pots to their phoenixes to be carried safely away.
Leaving them behind.
Heart in her mouth, Aemyra watched as the phoenix warriors made the sign of Brigid’s cross before diving into the writhing mess of enemy soldiers below them. Determined to take out as many as possible before they were overrun.
Some fighting around Aemyra had noticed, and she raised Fearsolais into the air.
“Do not let their sacrifice be in vain!” she shouted, even as more groups of phoenixes attacked the other trebuchets dotted throughout the advancing line of Covenanters.
“Fight in their memory, fight for the Goddesses!”
With renewed vigor, her army pushed forward. Toward the Covenanters and the chemical agents Aemyra prayed she could protect them against.
Pulling his sword out of a man’s gut, Fiorean shouted, “It’s almost time.”
Aemyra looked wildly around for her queen’s guard. They had gotten separated early on and now she could only see Clea fighting a hundred feet away.
Joining Fiorean in dispatching the sudden surge of Covenanters, they were granted a respite when a handful of cavalry rode in front of them.
“Get yourself into position, I’ll cover you,” Fiorean said.
“I need to find the queen’s guard first,” Aemyra replied, slashing wildly with Fearsolais toward a soldier she had failed to see until the last moment.
Three phoenixes soared overhead, lighter in the air now the clay pots had been emptied. She flinched as one of them was hit by a crossbow bolt to the heart. He fell to the ground, shattering alongside the empty pot he had died trying to retrieve.
Aemyra fingered the crystal necklace under her armor and prayed she was doing the right thing.
Clea finally appeared through the scrum, her chestnut hair disheveled.
She had been protecting the vanguard from arrows, but now the fighting had descended into chaos and the lines had merged.
“Where’s everyone else?” Aemyra demanded.
Fiorean was a little busy stabbing Covenanters to reply, but as she bashed the hilt of Fearsolais into the face of an oncoming soldier, Aemyra saw Iona making her way toward them.
“Find Laoise!” Aemyra shouted over the screams of the wounded and the grunts of fighting soldiers. “And get Nell!”
Iona set off through the battle, silvery hair like a waterfall behind her. A crimson stream of phoenixes rose into the air from a splintering trebuchet and the thundering of hundreds of wings filled the sky.
“Need me to summon Aervor yet?” Fiorean asked.
Goddess, he wasn’t even out of breath.
“No. This can still work, and Laird Lorna’s clansmen deserve a chance to surrender,” Aemyra replied, peering through the ranks of the advancing enemy, finding those dressed in dull, poorly fitted armor.
“Beira, some of them are just children.” Clea blessed herself, following Aemyra’s eyeline.
“Children who only know one thing—stick the pointy end of their weapon into soft flesh,” Aemyra warned, swinging Fearsolais in her wrist. “Shields up.”
Clea braced herself, summoning a wall of hard air to protect herself and the queen.
“Defend the right flank! They attack from the north!”
Adarian’s voice carried as he reined his mare around, trying to get his cavalry into formation, golden armor gleaming in the light of the sunset.
“Fuck!” Aemyra cursed.
She knew there had been more Covenanters waiting inside the city, but had been sure they would loop around and attack from behind, where she had stationed the chimeras.
“What do we do?” Clea asked, bending her knees as if preparing to be overrun.
Aemyra clenched her sword. “Stick to the plan and pray to Brigid it works.”
“Aemyra!”
Spinning, she got an eyeful of a russet beard as Adarian dismounted beside her, gathering the reins of his horse in one hand.
“I need you to—” she began.
“Don’t worry, my cavalry are already carrying them into position around the infantry.”
She nodded, a small space clearing around them as Clea’s shields kept the enemy at bay.
“Get my guard together. We have one shot.”
Even as she said it, the sound of Dùileach screams filled the air as the rejection agent was poured onto the front lines by gleeful Covenanters atop the city walls.
Aemyra felt both Terrea and Aervor snarling high above. Fiorean met her eye, but she shook her head. Only as a last resort.
Arrows shot down from the high walls of the city, and Clea valiantly protected the infantry with magic.
“Beira bless us!” she gasped, her body quaking as hundreds of arrows peppered her shields.
Aemyra cursed herself; she hadn’t realized the vanguard had been pushed into range of the archers.
“Save your magic,” Aemyra said to Clea. “We will need it.”
Fiorean was already bellowing at the soldiers around them, ordering them to retreat away from the walls. The enemy redoubled their attack, some of the inexperienced enemy soldiers believing this to be a victory.
They all died when the remaining phoenix warriors sent flaming arrows into their backs from above.
Riya was leading her battalion with grim determination, tears in her eyes and grief lining her face as the women she had fought with for years sacrificed themselves for the promise of an antidote that could win them the war.
The untrained soldiers alongside the Covenanters were no match for the phoenixes. With their sparse armor, the sharp tips of arrows slid between ribs and shoulder blades. An agonizing death.
Aemyra had to look away.
Almighty Alfred cared so little for their lives, he had ordered them to fight alongside battle-hardened Covenanters with little training. He didn’t care how many people died, as long as he sat the throne and ruled in the Savior’s name.
He would be the Almighty Killer.
Well, Aemyra refused to be queen of the ashes.
“I need my fucking water Dùileach!” Aemyra screamed, coughing.
“Iona will be here,” Adarian replied confidently, eyes tracking the progress of his cavalry as they wove into the middle of her army.
Dark clouds were covering the last flush of sunset, pitching the grisly battle on the sand into a dull twilight. There was still no sign of Gealach, but a handful of phoenixes had returned, clutching surviving sailors in their claws.
Laoise emerged from the scrum of fighting clansmen and Covenanters, pulling a young man by his shirtsleeves. She thrust him toward Aemyra, only just managing to block an attack from a Covenanter to cover her back.
“Where the fuck is Iona?” Aemyra yelled.
Laoise shrugged, chest heaving and blood matting her braids as she took up a defensive position shoulder to shoulder with Adarian.
“You have water magic?” Aemyra asked the man, ducking under Clea’s whip of air that tripped two Covenanters right onto Laoise’s knives.
The man looked terrified, but summoned a shivering ball of water to his palm.
Aemyra nodded. “You’ll do.” Glancing over his shoulder, she said, “Duck.”
Fearsolais sliced through the side of a Covenanter’s head, sticking slightly as she pulled it free, splattering the man with brain matter.
He went white.
“Don’t you dare vomit on my feet,” Aemyra ground out, turning to engage another Covenanter who thrust the broken end of a spear toward her.
Her words had cost her. The wooden shaft hit her in the stomach and she doubled over, coughing.
Fiorean roared, but it was the young man who saved his queen.
Twisting his hands into a fist, he dried up the water in the Covenanter’s body.
He crumpled in a wrinkled mess at their feet, but not before sliding a sword though the ribs of the water Dùileach.