21. Leah #2
Then everything is a blur of magic and weapons as we fall upon each other.
I let Swiftwing guide me, and the blade’s magic seems heightened with so many threats around us.
It tells me to swing left when a fanged demon tries to slice me up my side with her axe, catching the weapon’s handle and sending it flying out of her grasp.
She dives to catch it while Swiftwing guides my hands up and across my right forearm, piercing straight through the wrist of a large demon who was about to try his own hand at skewering me.
He hasn’t even finished his growl of pain when he’s struck from behind by a bolt of lightning, the magic scorching him right down to the core. I recoil from the bitter smell and horrible scream that rises from his throat as he tumbles earthward.
Mila hovers in the spot behind him, her hand still outstretched from where she released her magic.
“Thanks,” I say. Before she can respond, our attention is pulled toward an agonized scream.
A demon rider on a kelaryn has swooped past a fledgling, pelting them with a small, glass projectile that exploded on impact.
It’s coated the fledgling’s face in demon blood, which burns like acid through their flesh.
The kelaryn banks toward us with another projectile poised, aimed at Mila this time.
“No!”
I dive in front of her, taking the full impact of the projectile. It hits me low on my breastplate, but my jaw and cheek are still coated in a spray of blood as the glass shatters.
Yikes, that’s going to leave a nasty rash, but a bit of itchiness I can handle.
I turn to Mila as three fledglings swiftly fall on the kelaryn rider. She stares at me, shocked, as I wipe away the blood with the back of my hand.
“Y-you’re okay?” she stutters.
“Yep. Sometimes it pays to be nephilim.”
She nods in agreement as we separate, diving toward new threats.
When I steal a moment to assess the larger scene a bit later, I can see we’re making headway.
With us protecting the back of the western flank, the Brigade has been freed up to push forward—a prong of gleaming soldiers now extending out into the demonic forces to the south.
“Leah!”
I spin around, then instinct tells me to look up, and I see Filippa coming toward me, fast. Her wings catch the air awkwardly, making it a clumsy descent, and I have to pivot when she nearly crashes into me.
“What is it?” I ask, staying alert to our surroundings as she straightens up.
“I’ve spotted something,” she gasps. “From up there.” She jabs her finger skyward, indicating a spot of clear air high above the battle.
I don’t ask her what she was doing up there.
We both know Filippa is best positioned far away from the action, trial or no trial.
Part of me thinks that’s where I should be too. Except…
My fellow fledglings, my friends, need defending.
So maybe, for the first time, this isn’t just about survival for me.
“Keep talking,” I prompt, curving my wings to spin me around in the air, checking no one’s about to take advantage of our distraction.
“There’s someone coming this way. A lord I think, maybe the new Rancor ruler. They’ve already taken down three Brigade sections, and they’re coming for ours next.” She points to the prong of ephilium we’ve all worked so hard to help gain ground.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Wouldn’t the Brigade have scouts to spot that?”
Filippa shakes her head. “They won’t realize it’s a lord.
The contingent with him appears to be small, and they’re careful to make it look like the prongs are collapsing from external attacks.
But I watched long enough to be sure. He’s doing something that’s getting under us and ripping the bottom out of our offensive.
I think there’s animals involved. Birds, maybe? General Sawler might know.”
I think of Syrus’s ability to communicate with all kinds of beasts. Can Lord Midane do something similar? It’s possible. And I trust Filippa’s instincts.
“I’ll go warn General Sawler,” I say. “You just make sure you don’t get hurt.”
Something in her eyes tightens, and her gaze falls on Swiftwing, still clutched tightly in my hand, the tip colored a glossy green from demon blood.
“Sure,” she says, as if biting down on saying something else.
As she rises back up above the battle, I turn toward the heart of the western flank. In there, past rows of supernaturals trying to pull each other apart, I can see the flash of the general’s plumed helmet.
I take a deep breath. Do I want the ephilium to win this battle? Not particularly. But I do want my friends to survive, and I need to do well in these trials.
I plunge into the fray, trying to move as fast as possible toward the general, dodging projectiles and shadows as I go.
Something slams into me, and I twist over in the air, righting myself just in time to see a female demon charging toward me.
It’s the axe-wielding soldier I disarmed several minutes ago.
I guess she’s holding a grudge, and my unique wings make me easy to find again to get some retribution.
It looks like she couldn’t retrieve her weapon, but she has a shadow shield with her now.
I can’t get Swiftwing in position in time before she’s smashing into me again, shield-first, wrapping a strong hand around my shoulder as she pins my arms to my front with the sheet of metal.
She sinks her claws into the exposed line of my neck just below the edge of my helmet, making me scream.
She’s damn close to ripping my throat out, and my sword and both my hands are trapped between my breastplate and her shield.
Even if I wanted to conjure lightning, I’d only end up hurting myself.
But lightning isn’t the only thing I can conjure.