Page 43 of Where Broken Wings Fly

So, with less than twenty-six days left at this size, with these people, we each whispered our partnership plea to the creatures and mounted up, with all intention to return to Choilltean and present King Ronan with the somewhat fluid allegiance Raegan had secured of the people of Cluaineach.

Killian and I, upon Gaoth, led the group up into the skies and away from the grasslands, soon soaring over the sea under the permission of the Queen of Uisge who had allowed Killian, Shea, and Niamh to cross earlier that day. The whole time I couldn’t help but to notice how solemn the mood was between us all, neither Shea nor Niamh making their usual attempts to rile up Killian and Raegan. The latter kept to himself, muttering occasionally from where he covered the group from the back, Rìoghail less than thrilled at taking the rear position of his herd. Even Killian, seated behind me with both of his hands wrapped around my waist, was quieter than usual.

It was then that I realized the three of them did know about Raegan, that they understood what this journey had meant for him and now knew to stay quiet until their Prince offered conversation on his own terms. Which, knowing him, was not likely to happen. So silence stretched as we glided along, the only noise to be heard being that of the subtle beating of wings, the whistling of the sea beneath us, and the occasional cry of a seagull as it swept along the water-edge in search of fish.

Our speed pulled back as we finished crossing the water, the vast forest visible within moments as we floated past the sandy beach, soon looking down not at blue waves or golden granules but thick, inhabitable dark grass that prefaced the woods we were soon to enter.

I knew and prepared for the fact that the sun would leave us the moment we crossed into the dense walls of woodlands, but I had forgotten just how suddenly it would depart from us, even as we flew along the preceding meadows.

But the sun hadn’t left us, it still shone on everything except for the small bubble of my companions and our mounts. The reason that an all consuming shadow had spread over top of us was because something was over top of us, blocking the reaching rays of the light.

I looked up just as a war cry ripped from Niamh’s mouth, her hands moving for her bow and an arrow that she had nocked before I saw what lingered over us all.

When the first thing that I saw were two stretched, leathery wings fanned out above me, I released a deep breath of relief – my first assumption was that Gliocas and Urram had joined us for the flight back home. But the underneath of the creature was not a scaly, tight hide but a giant pelt of deep red, near-black fuzz.

It glanced down at me, two terrifying orbs of black for eyes, and I knew for sure it was not a dragon that lingered but a bat. Even worse still was that it was not the only one – dozens of others glided alongside it. They were not just out for a leisurely flight, but that they were being ridden. By pixies.

The rear talons of the bat stretched out towards Gaoth just as the pixie above it released an arrow towards Killian and I. With a roar, Killian pulled his sword from over his back and deflected the tip of the pointed head, just as Gaoth let out a squeal, tucked his wings, and dove down and out of the way of the approaching claws.

Our herd dispersed across the sky, Raegan and Rìoghail climbing high as the Prince drew a glinting sword over his head, Shea and Niamh both spreading to the side before their pegasus’ both twisted and made to get above the bats. Killian and I, though, let Gaoth dive down towards the ground where he landed unevenly over his four hooves, his stumble tossing me from his back before Killian could grab ahold of me.

Blood trailed from one of Gaoth’s hips, two noticeable claw-marks beating a trail down the round of his rump as the stallion hobbled his way across the grass. Killian jumped down from him as quickly as he could and turned to his stallion. Cautiously keeping an eye on the chaos that rang out above us, Killian moved to the wounds across Gaoth and tried his best to examine them.

But I was a vet. Pushing up from the ground, ignoring the way that my body screamed at me not to, I found a semi-balance and limped my way over to the two of them. Just as I did, one of the bats landed heavily behind us, his one wing dripping with blood that was not his own but Gaoth’s. The pixie slid down from his back, two curved blades in his hands as he gurgled to himself.

“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.