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Shrouded in their obsidian armor, the enemy infantry bore an array of menacing weaponry. Some brandished curving blades. Others wielded long, jagged halberds, their tips adorned with runes that pulsed with unnatural energy.
For now, the city of Brightwind was untouched.
Fires burned on the battlefield where they must have been lit by King Mark’s soldiers as they fought through the night.
Now dawn had come, but as a gray, sickly thing. A hazy fog hung over the air, mixing with the smoke and terrible stench of death.
As Draven and I soared on the exmoors overhead, the magnitude of the destruction that had already been wrought unfolded beneath us.
Brightwind, surrounded by a ring of Tintagel forces, had somehow stood resilient. Yet the air crackled with the tension of an imminent breach. The infantry seemed an unending tide, relentlessly clashing with our beleaguered allies. The ring was a slender thing, and the brunt of the battle drew ever closer.
My heart quickened as I glimpsed King Mark. Catching Draven’s eye where he flew beside me on Nightclaw, I pointed.
The king was a figure of regal defiance, heavily armored and riding a sturdy white steed through the fray, surrounded by a group of elite knights who followed as close to their liege as possible, their faces protective and watchful.
King Mark’s very presence among his troops was a rallying cry, I knew, and yet the act was dangerous in the extreme, for if he were to fall, his troops would surely lose hope.
We flew past the inner ring guarding the city, over the king and his knights, past the second ring of troops engaged in battle, to the outer edges of the fray where new, fresh groups of foot soldiers were joining the dark fae forces every minute.
Flying high overhead in the cloud cover, we had not been spotted yet. We had the element of surprise as we decided where to strike first.
My pulse quickened as I caught sight of a twisted, horned helmet that rose above the others.
The man—for I knew not what else to call these creatures for now—rose above his fellows. He was a colossus, shrouded in an aura of terror that seemed to radiate from the ground upwards. A tableau of carnage surrounded him—fallen bodies of Tintagel soldiers strewn like discarded pawns at the feet of a malevolent giant.
As I watched in horror, one not-quite dead soldier crawled valiantly through the mud towards her sword.
Just as her hand touched the hilt, the general’s form towered over her. His halberd came down. She screamed, and even from our great height above, I heard the woman’s cry. Then, the sound was abruptly cut off as the dark creature’s weapon sliced through the back of her skull.
“Don’t,” Draven cried sharply from beside me, and I realized belatedly that my hands were raised to strike.
But it was too late.
Something had alerted the general below. As I looked back down to the earth, my eyes met his.
My heart leaped as the master of the troops began to bark instructions to the forces around him. Foot soldiers maneuvered into swift formations. Archers notched arrows. Soldiers began to crank an arbalest loaded with bolts.
A volley of missiles flew through the air.
I could hear Draven shouting to fly low and turn.
I could sense Nightclaw was already doing so, moving Draven out of harm’s way.
But Sunstrike and I were in tune in a different way. The younger battlecat was swift and light, yes, but also inexperienced. She had carried me stoically this far, but now I sensed her weariness.
As I fed her my thoughts, a hand to her fur, I felt her struggle to respond with the speed Nightclaw had. She turned, ever so slowly as it seemed to me. And then she began to climb, flying higher rather than lower, heading for the clouds. I sensed her newfound fear as the arrows began to hiss around us.
But there was nothing for it. I hunched on the great cat’s back, my head against her coat, urging her on and praying Draven would cover our retreat.
Quick-witted as always, he had already done so. When I looked back over my shoulder, I saw him sculpting a path of safety for us, shadows cloaking our withdrawal as he and Nightclaw sped towards the projectiles and ensnared them, shadows coiling around arrows and missiles, hurling them back down towards the earth.
A few moments later, Nightclaw soared beside us.
We flew above the clouds, letting Sunstrike get her composure back. I could feel the young battlecat’s heart racing and struggled to remind myself she had never been in this sort of fray before.
I shouted the thought to Draven over the whistling wind. “She’s never done this before. She’s frightened.”
He urged Nightclaw closer until we were flying neck in neck. “I know. We should send her back. Join me on Nightclaw.”
