16 #2
“Which one is the Prince?” he shouted to Killian – either stupid or brave to assume any of us would answer him. Raegan was high above, Rìoghail sweeping from side to side as the two of them gracefully maneuvered across the fight, crimson dripping from his sword already.
Killian growled low and viciously as he palmed his sword repetitively, his one hand still braced against Gaoth in an attempt to stop his bleeding.
“Go,” I whispered to Killian, my hand settling next to his. “I’ll take care of Gaoth. Go, protect your Prince.”
Killian looked at me, wide-eyed and torn between duties.
It was only when the other pixie, who noticeably lacked ears and had his hair shaved short, let out a snarl that Killian finally snapped.
He nodded at me, a thanks between the brief sheen to his eyes, and took off across the field with his sword in a high swing above his head.
Nature was not happy to see the fair folk draw blood from one another.
The wind around us picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees beyond and shuffling the sea of grass that we stood in.
A dark, dreary cloud gathered above us, shielding the sun from witnessing as another bat and rider careened down to the ground, slamming against the dirt only a hundred feet from Gaoth and I.
The stallion let out a short, muffled squeal as I focused both of my hands on his haunch, trying to get a better look at the two lines that were still oozing blood.
Had this been an ideal situation, I would have sanitized his wound and got to work on stitching it.
The location of the cut was better than I had imagined, the area one that didn’t stretch too much as he hobbled a few steps forwards.
But I didn’t have my tools. I didn’t have any sanitizing agents.
I didn’t even have water, a small mercy that would have helped me flush the wound.
Instead, I narrowed my eyes and whispered an apology to Gaoth before I started to pick at his flesh, removing the few pieces of obvious dirt that must have been attached to the bat's talon.
As if some divine being, or the earth itself, had heard my internal pleas, that dull cloud above opened up and tried to cleanse the battle that waged on above us. Water poured from the heavens, not in a sprinkle but in a flood that pelted at my head.
Feeling more optimistic about my chances, I slipped the leather chest-plate from my body, and tore at the green attire beneath it.
Piece by piece the shirt ripped, until I had a handful of it that I lifted up above me and prayed for the water to home in on.
Seconds at a time the material soaked, until it was heavy and dripping enough that I placed it against Gaoth’s wound, ignoring how he squealed and lifted his hind leg in a warning.
I poked and prodded at the mush, until it coated both of the gashes and packed them as tightly as it could.
“It’s not ideal, Gaoth,” I panted as I tried to flatten the packing. “But it will have to do until we get you home, okay?”
He snorted back at me, stomping one of his front legs. At least the bleeding had stopped, even though he had a long, ruby-red stain that stretched down the entirety of his back leg. Once we were back in Choilltean, I knew I would be able to take better care of it.
I had been so busy focused on Gaoth, that I hadn’t noticed just how quiet the space around me had become.
The cries of war continued to ail the air above me, Shea, Niamh, and Raegan still soaring between the droplets and following the faint ping of bowstrings being snapped.
But around me, where Killian had been only moments prior, had gone deathly silent.
My hands fell from Gaoth’s hind slowly, before I made tiny movements in the pursuit of turning around.
True, raw fear penetrated my heart when I turned to find not one, not two, not three, but four Rachainn advancing towards me, as quiet as mice as they crept along with a blade out each. Once I noticed them, they jumped at me.
Gaoth squealed, shifting onto his hind legs as he reared up, his fronts striking the air and trying to keep the pixies away from me.
But it was no use, they were swift and agile, and one with hair as dark as the forest itself pulled an arrow over his shoulder and released the taut string.
I was left screaming, wailing into the sky as I watched that arrow soar, helpless from my position pulled against two of the Rachainn.
All I could do as I watched it pierce Gaoth’s eye, then his skull, and burst out the other end, was rip a cry of agony from my throat that shook the grass around us.
Gaoth, pelt as silver as starlight, collapsed to the ground.
I writhed against my captors, my feet kicking out behind me in hopes of catching a shin, my hands clawing at the flesh of their forearm and drawing long scrapes of blood that collected beneath my fingernails.
But it was no use, the four of them together threw me to the ground, guarding my limbs as I tried to weaponize them.
The fourth, the one who had skewered Gaoth, dropped down into a crouch at my side.
With a dagger that he pulled from over his shoulder, he placed the tip of it to my cheek and forced me to halt all movement out of fear of it scraping my eye.
Snarling with a clenched mouth like a rabid dog, I tried to wiggle my hands free of the relentless hold of one of them.
“What do we have here?” the dark-green-haired pixie murmured, his blade tracing a slow line across my cheek. He used the edge of the blade to push some of my hair back, revealing my ears – and their rounded tops – for all to see. “It looks like the Prince has a little pet.”
I couldn’t see beyond the four of them, I couldn’t tell if my friends even knew that I was in trouble. All I had was the rabid growling in the back of my throat and the rashes that were burning at my wrists and ankles from where unkind hands held them.
A sly line was drawn on his lips as he leant towards me. “I’ve never been this close to a human, let alone a female—” He paused to drag in my scent through two wide nostrils, his eyes fluttering shut as he let the smell roll through his nose. “—What do you think, lads? She’s quite a beauty.”