32
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I was too busy watching Uamhas galloping back on his strange bear to notice that our army was moving.
It was the strangest, most fluid motion of hundreds upon hundreds of pixies.
Like watching a soft wave kink in the ocean and carry itself through that movement in a harmonious and indestructible way.
It felt as if everyone lifted their boots and set them down at the same time, their arms all swung with the same speed, and even their hearts synced to the same rhythm.
At the front of it all was Raegan on Rìoghail, two elegant, regal beings galloping from side to side in front of his army.
His sword was thrust into the air above him, the blade glinting beneath the sun with every abrupt movement of the pegasus beneath him.
Seeing him like that, it was hard to believe that he was a prince at all.
He had war written between his brows, a scowl that was capable of killing, mixed with a wild grin that echoed across the faces of his soldiers.
The army continued back, the next few bodies being that of the other monarchs of Saoghal.
Then Raegan’s ceadan; Niamh and Shea and Killian amongst other faces that I had yet to meet.
Behind them, the lines of ridden riders from all four kingdoms, followed by the infantry.
Bordering us all in the clouds were those on winged beasts, small tornados tearing from their bodies with every harsh beat of their wings.
Off to the side, stumbling along as if I had any right to be amongst such a force, was me.
Killian had instructed me to stay away from the long lines of bodies, waiting for the moment that the fighting started so that I could disappear into the meadow and wait for it all to end.
Urram remained on my shoulder, feeling that eerie silence just as I was.
Rìoghail was about ready to combust when Raegan finally slackened his hold over the beast, and as one unit, the pixies of Saoghal charged forwards.
The silence that had befallen us like an omen was no more – filled with screams and shouts of bloodlust and rage.
The term fair folk seemed as unbelievable as any other as I listened to the chaotic roars and bellows coming from them all.
The Rachainn’s war cries boomed just as loud. The earth shuddered as the two forces approached.
Then their mouths were shut, their screams disappearing as blades met blades in an earth-shattering ripple of noise.
Their air-forces hit our air-forces, talons and claws and paws all latching on to one another and raining down blood and fur and feathers.
Two herds of hoofed creatures bashed into one another, horses and pegasus’ and whatever else dared to carry a rider into battle all meshing as one big pile that the infantry stormed around.
But then the real fighting began. The type of fighting that I would never have seen in my world, because it was born of magic.
Those from Cluaineach were the first to use it.
The air shuddered as some of the the pixies lifted their hands, summoning golden streams in the form of pollen from the flowers.
Then it was the grass itself, ripping from the depths of the earth and whittling itself into sharp spear-like objects that soared through the air.
Whenever they were met with an attack, they reached a hand towards the thousands of flowers all around us, using the colourful petals to wrap themselves in an impenetrable shield.
The ground trembled as they seemed to pull it up from beneath them, summoning minor earth-quakes that shook their enemies whenever they got too close.
But some of the Rachainn had been from Cluaineach, once upon a time, so they did the same.
Then it was those from Speur. They clouded the skies above us with their arms raised, yanking every cloud that they could until it was a dense blanket of blackness above us.
Some of them even went so far as to pull tendrils from those clouds, little ropes with sentient capability that wrapped themselves around foes and ripped them into the air.
When the clouds weren’t sufficient, the pixies fisted their hands and watched as the breeze warped to their command – a small tornado here, a wrathful gust of wind there.
But again, some of the Rachainn had been from Speur, once upon a time, so they did the same.
Those of Uisge fed off of the weather manipulation, lifting their own arms above their heads where lightning flashed in their eyes and water was freed from those dense clouds.
Rain and hail and such an onslaught of water that the meadow was soon drenched.
That, mixed with the icy winds from those from Speur and the manipulation of the boggy mud from Cluaineach was enough to turn the field into that of utter carnage, elements weaponized as things soared from left and right.
But again, some of the Rachainn had been from Uisge, once upon a time, so they did the same.
Lastly was those from Choilltean. Living in the thick canopies of a forest had taught them not how to manipulate the elements, but how to adapt to a cruel and unforgiving environment, how to slip into the shadows and use the land to their advantage.
Which was exactly what they did. They relied on the chaos of their fellow pixies to conceal their sly, sneaky attacks, just as a jungle cat would high in the trees.
But yet again, some of the Rachainn had been from Choilltean, once upon a time, so they did the same.
Kin fought kin. Blood that shared links bled before one another. Ears curved up, ears curved down, ears dead straight, ears curved inwards, and those without ears, all fell. The two armies were too well matched, their likeness too strong to gain any type of advantage over the other.
I had been far too busy watching the explosion of nature all around me, that I hadn’t noticed a group of Rachainn were advancing on me.
Killian had given me a blade, which I had tucked into my leathers across my chest, but I doubted my ability to use such a weapon.
I had only used sharp-edged things to heal others, not to inflict damage.
Luckily, I had a fire-breathing parrot on my shoulder.
The back of my neck had only just started to tingle when I spun around, seeing the group of them creeping through the grass.
My hand hadn’t even reached for my blade before Urram opened his beak and released an inferno of flames that devoured them within seconds, not even the rain capable of ridding them of their impending doom.
There was one other source of flame in the fight.
I had seen him use such a skill in the dragon den, but I seemed to have simply moved on from that fact without further pursuing it.
Because there Raegan was, standing amongst his legions, with flames wrapped around both of his fists that he shot at will towards those who aimed to harm him.
Rìoghail was nowhere to be seen, but Gliocas was as present as ever, perched on his shoulder, beak ripped wide where he covered Raegan’s back against every snide attempt from the Rachainn.
He was slick with sweat and blood and rain, blond hair dark beneath the concealed sun, lips peeled back where he bared white, sharp fangs to the world. Raegan twisted that fire down his sword as he lifted it above him, his eyes set on something amongst the chaos in front of him.
Not something — someone.
Uamhas.
His eyes locked on to the Rachainn King like there wasn’t another soul in the world, and the Prince of Choilltean and Cluaineach thundered across the field in pursuit.
But there was murder in Uamhas’ eyes as he saw Raegan advance, almost as if he had expected the pixie to be so naive, so lost in barbarity, that he would dare approach the King.
Which was why it shouldn’t have been a surprise when all of a sudden several dozen Rachainn surrounded their King, their blades pushed out and a daring threat in their eyes as Raegan advanced.
“Raegan,” I muttered to Urram, my eyes wide and incapable of blinking. “He’s going to be slaughtered.”
Urram chirped some sort of response to me and fluttered off of my shoulder. I was about to bark at him, to beg him to stay beside me otherwise I was sure to die, but Urram wasn’t leaving. He was shifting.
A bird of grey and red suddenly became a dragon of shimmering silver beneath the mournful sun.
His scales settled against his skin, a bristling effect that he shuddered against as his wings snapped wide and the leathery texture of them further blocked us from the destruction all around.
His maw tipped to the sky, where a roar capable of halting the war tore from his mouth and a flame followed it.
Then he looked at me, two beady reptilian eyes blinking.
“Save him,” I pleaded, my eyes forever round and lost amongst Saoghal.
He twisted his spindly neck full of barbs, until his nose touched his back. “Get on.”
I wasn’t sure how to get on a dragon, let alone one of his size.
Which he seemed to recognize, because as I stepped up to his winged forelimbs and peered up at the mountainous climb to his back, he huffed smoke and pinched at my shirt with his smallest teeth.
He tossed me in the air where I landed on his spine with a thud.
He gave me absolutely no warning before rocking onto his haunches and launching us into the air. The power that transferred from his body to the ground left a crater behind, the dirt still trembling as Urram beat his wings against the ferocious wind that the pixies were causing.
I clutched to him like my life depended on it — because it did — and leant against his scales. Narrowing my eyes, I fought against the slurry of water pelting my face, then the frigid winds that threatened to freeze my features into that contorted mess.
Riding a dragon was nothing like riding a pegasus.
At least on the back of the equine-like body, I felt like I had some control over what we were doing, between my legs at their sides and my hands against their neck.
But upon Urram, I was completely at his mercy like a mere mouse atop a cat.
I expected his large stature to mute all of his movements, but in a way it was worse.
Every tiny adjustment through his scales, every minor flutter of his wings, and every contraction of his muscles was twice as powerful beneath me, causing my grip to inadvertently tighten against the two spikes that I was gripping on to for dear life.
There wasn’t much point in trying to see where we were going, not with how high Urram was holding his head and blocking the world around us. Instead, I resorted to peering down my legs, looking at the small blots and specks that indicated pixies fighting below us.
Urram fanned his wings out as he made a broad turn, only for me to realize that we had made it to Raegan and the fight that he was currently swallowed in.
He had somehow managed to cut through most of the males that were defending Uamhas, though the amount of blood that was sprayed up and down his body left little to the imagination as to how he managed to get close to the King of Rachainn.
But something stole his attention. For the briefest of seconds he glanced over his shoulder to see a pixie with an arrow nocked and bowstring pulled taut. The arrow wasn’t focused on him, but at something in the air.
Me.
Raegan howled my name.
Then he roared it again, just as he took his sword and snapped it through the air towards the pixie who had me as his target.
Raegan’s sword sliced right through that pixie, leaving nothing but a head and a gaping wound in his chest. The Rachainn collapsed to the ground, but not before he released his bow-fingers.
The arrow soared towards me. So slowly it moved, like the world around me halted to witness what would become of the human amongst the pixies.
My eyes moved from the arrow, from my approaching death, towards Raegan. Raegan, who had given up his only weapon, his attention stolen by the arrow that advanced on me, and was no longer watching his back. Which made it all too easy for Uamhas to plunge a sword into the Prince.