Battle of the Kinfolk. #2
With fluid grace that defied the whipping winds, Mabina dismounted, radiating the confidence of a seasoned warrior.
She strode toward Fitzroy and offered a swift curtsy upon reaching him.
The two exchanged private words, their voices swallowed by the howling gale, yet the worry etched on Mabina’s furrowed features unsettled me deeply.
Fitzroy turned inland to address the soldiers gathered on the beach. “Allied forces are heading our way,” he declared. “We’ll fight alongside the fae, striving for a valiant victory—to reclaim Lyonesse for us and the Isle for them.”
Stepping forward, Mabina was poised with an air of authority. Briefly, she rested a gauntleted hand on Fitzroy’s pauldrons before looking to the men assembled before her.
“I’ve endured twenty long years under Regina’s tyrannous rule and have come to know the difference between freedom and enslavement,” she shouted, her voice rising above the lapping sea.
“I promise you all—life won’t be worth living should she prevail today.
I stand before you seeking unity, not merely to avenge my subjects’ lost liberties, the scars upon our wings, and the dishonored legacy of the fae—but to fight for all who have suffered since the abolishment of magic and the reign of the Silver Witch.
The gods are with us, and those who dare defy their will—be they mortal or magical—shall face their reckoning.
Soldiers, let us show our common enemy that they’re but rabbits, vainly seeking to rule over golden eagles.
The fae will arrive on the backs of wyverns—do not be afraid, for they are your comrades. ”
Her rallying cry awakened something deep within me—a fierce roar for war that radiated from the men, though I’d never felt it before now.
With a surge of zeal, I unsheathed my sword. “For Queen Mabina,” I cried, thrusting my weapon into the air as rain cascaded from the clouds above.
The soldiers echoed without hesitation, drawing their blades and driving them skyward. “For Queen Mabina!” they bellowed in unison, their voices cutting through the pounding rhythm of raindrops on their armor.
Fitzroy met my gaze, a proud glint in his eyes. I bowed my head with dutiful respect, and as I lifted it once more, the words spilled from my lips before I could restrain them.
“For the future ruler of Lyonesse—King Fitzroy!” I chanted.
“For King Fitzroy!” the soldiers barked back, their voices crashing against the stormy waves as their boots stamped upon the sodden sands in a relentless, thunderous beat.
Holding his head high and peering through the veil of rain, Fitzroy took a moment to absorb the sight of his loyal men. “For Lyonesse,” he declared, his voice strong—but the call-and-response was abruptly cut short by the sharp bleat of a trumpet.
“Prepare for battle,” Fitzroy commanded. His knights advanced, forming a long, unyielding barricade of steel to shield Cambas and the lands beyond.
Mabina swiftly remounted her wyvern, ascending into the rain-soaked skies to rejoin her army of fae.
I seized Finn’s arm, pulling him along as we waded through the ranks, placing more soldiers between us and the enemy.
Some men fixed unwavering glares upon the waters—as though their piercing stares could smite the foe before battle commenced.
Others trembled, droplets of rain flicking from their quivering hands as they clutched their slick weapons.
And then there were those like Finn and me—our purple-tinged palms raised, poised to unleash our magical defenses.
A tug on my breeches drew my attention downward to find Billy’s fearful face.
His tattered rags were gone, replaced by a hastily altered tunic and breeches with crudely frayed hems. A metal dish was strapped across his torso with a shoelace, and though his boots were crafted from the finest leather, they were comically oversized, fastened tightly at the ankles with ribbons.
Judging by the golden brocade trimming the collar, I suspected this was Fitzroy’s handiwork.
“I’m ready for revenge,” Billy declared, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of making Regina pay for causing his blindness.
Finn elbowed me sharply, snapping my attention away from the vengeful goblin. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” he asked, peering upward into the unrelenting rainfall.
“I don’t know,” I muttered. Part of me wished to wait forever—while another part yearned to confront what lay ahead and end it swiftly.
I tilted my head skyward, straining to see beyond the dense gray clouds when something began to stir the mist. A soaring shape emerged, heading straight toward us.
At first, I feared it was Regina herself—descending to unleash fire and acid upon Lyonesse.
Yet before panic could slicken my skin, more figures came into view—a sky teeming with majestic wyverns.
Their ethereal riders clutched reins that looped around the beasts’ snouts on one end and were secured tightly around their own wrists on the other.
As the fae descended through the rain, their gleaming armor caught the splinters of light.
Among the riders, the pointy-eared elves were easy to spot—their faces aglow as if they’d harnessed the moon’s radiance—while the fairies’ lithe wings fluttered behind them like iridescent cloaks in the tempestuous winds.
Some riders alighted along the cliff edges, positioning their wyverns to face the stormy sea and brace for what was to come. Others circled overhead like vigilant predators, scouting the lands below for prey.
A swell of commotion erupted from the shoreline, though I couldn’t see beyond the fully grown men obstructing my view.
“What’s happening?” Billy asked, his tone laced with apprehension.
I turned to Finn. “Can you see?”
He rose onto the balls of his feet, straining to see past the helmets ahead.
“There are ships—many ships—advancing toward us,” he reported, causing Billy to gasp.
Finn clung to my shoulders, trying to stabilize his balance as he squinted.
“Some have already been intercepted by our sailors, but at least a handful of vessels are closing in fast. Beyond that, it’s hard to tell—I cannot see too far; the clouds hang heavy over the water. ”
I held my breath, anticipation churning my stomach as I waited for Finn to reveal what was disembarking.
Then Finn gasped. “There’re thousands of them!”
At that moment, a ripple of wailing heralded the beginning of the battle.
A swarm of goblins charged onto the beach, brandishing crude weapons: axes, spiked clubs, and scythes.
Taking advantage of their short stature, they surged forward, weaving through soldiers’ legs as they attacked.
The cries of war merged with the clash of steel as weapons struck armor, each impact ringing out in ear-shattering clangs.
Their tactics were gruesome; groups of goblins wrestled men to the ground, bashing in skulls until brain matter splattered across the sands.
High above, as wyverns swooped down, the fae on board unleashed arrows with pinpoint accuracy at the attackers. One elf fired a shot, splintering a goblin’s temple with a single, swift blow.
Finn and I stood rooted amid the tumult—my heart hammering swifter than the heavy rain and my feet twitching with the urge to flee, yet my legs were too jellified to budge.
I watched on, trembling, as a goblin hurled a projectile from a catapult skyward. It struck an unsuspecting fairy, sending her tumbling from the back of her wyvern; her clipped wings fluttered uselessly before her delicate body slammed into the sands, blood splattering on impact.
The riderless wyvern shrieked in anguish as it glided aimlessly—bereft of a master. I knew that if we could mount that beast, we might yet escape the carnage below.
I pressed my fingers to my lips in a vain effort to whistle like I’d seen Fitzroy do, but not even a faint shrill emerged.
“What are you doing?” Finn demanded, keeping an eye out as my gaze remained fixed on the floundering wyvern.
“Whistling,” I replied, reinserting my fingers in another futile attempt.
“What, like this?” Finn asked, then demonstrated an earsplitting tune of his own.
At the sharp sound, the wyvern’s head snapped toward us as it swooped in a breath-snatching dive.
Finn darted away, and I hurried after him—fearful that its enormous, outstretched claws might crush me.
Instead of flattening us, the creature landed heavily on the sands within reach.
For the first time, I summoned the strength to climb onto its neck unaided.
Glancing at Finn, I spotted a horde of goblins bounding toward us, their bared teeth threatening to do all in their power to block our escape. Finn caught my fearful stare and quickly peered over his shoulder.
“By the gods,” he gasped, turning back to grapple with the beast’s spiked spine as he desperately strained to hoist himself aboard. Yet fear had weakened his grip—and I knew I had to stop my brother from meeting a grisly end.
Raising my trembling hands, I cried, “Wesan gan.” Be gone.
Casting my spell upon the advancing goblins, I sent the trio hurtling like scattered pins across the sands.
I extended my still-glowing hand to Finn. “Hurry!” I urged.
He hauled himself onto the wyvern’s neck, and once he was seated behind me, I seized the reins, fumbling with the leather straps.
“You know how to ride a wyvern?” Finn exclaimed, astonishment steeped in every word.
“Not really,” I admitted, securing the straps around my palms. Then I drove my heel into the beast’s neck, and it galloped forward, carrying us away from the carnage below. “Heh!” Higher! I shouted, tugging fiercely on the reins.
Soaring above the ships granted us a clear view of the battle unfolding beneath us. The wild seas tossed enemy and allied vessels alike, while on deck, ogres and soldiers clashed brutally.