Page 200 of The Iron Flower

The Amaz battle cry.

It’s extreme, horrific violence, rivers of blood, bone-crushing blows and every fear that lurks inside your mind wrought into one, bloodcurdling sound.

As their unified cry grows louder, scores of rune-marked blades, axes, swords and scythes are hastily pulled out as row upon row of glowing rune-arrows are drawn back, all pointed at a single, enormous target.

Us.

That’s when I start yelling at the top of my lungs.

“Valasca! Alder! Freyja! Queen Alkaia! It’s me! Elloren Gardner!Don’t shoot!”

Vertigo assaults me as the torchlit plaza and central Goddess statue rise up to meet us, far too fast.

We’re going to crash.

I close my eyes, the Amaz battle cry searing through me as Naga hits the ground with bone-jarring force. I cry out in primal terror as I’m thrown from her back and hit the stone of the plaza hard.

Soldiers swarm around us, yelling orders to each other. I scramble toward Ariel, who is sprawled on the ground, passed out.

“She needs a healer!” I cry out as soldiers surround us, yelling out orders.

I whip my head around to find Yvan on his knees, his palms held up in surrender, blood trickling down the side of his face. Three rune-archers have closed in, their scarlet-tipped arrows drawn and inches away from his head. Alcippe is looming over him, her rune-axe raised in her fists.

Their battle cry fades, and all movement stills, as if everyone has suddenly been turned to stone. The only distinct sound left is the muffled moaning of the Icaral child.

Surrounding us are ring upon ring of Amaz soldiers, many on horseback, all with weapons drawn. Naga lays flattened on the ground with six soldiers surrounding her, rune-spears pointed directly at her neck. Her eyes are shut, her wings folded in, her posture deliberately passive.

“She needs ahealer!” I cry again, cradling Ariel’s head in my hands, my voice rough with desperation. “We just rescued her from the Valgard prison!”

“What is on your back?” Alcippe demands of Yvan, her face twisted with hatred.

Yvan keeps his head cautiously down. “An Icaral child.”

Murmurs of shock go up as Alcippe jerks her chin at two soldiers. The young women draw rune-blades and sever the bindings that secure the little girl to Yvan’s back. Then they lift her off Yvan’s back and carefully cut through the twine that restrains her, the child’s untethered wings now flapping frantically. The minute the soldiers remove the cloth around her mouth, she breaks into a high-pitched, terrified scream.

The soldiers finish freeing the child, both of the women talking gently to her, trying to calm her down, but she takes one terrified look at Yvan, breaks free of the soldiers’ grip and attempts to fly away. She only manages to lift a few feet off the ground before she hurtles back down, hampered by her uncontrolled panic and tears, the soldiers rushing in to help her.

Alcippe takes in the child’s incapacitating fear of Yvan with narrowed eyes. Her expression turns lethal, the veins on her temples and neck bulging. She hoists her rune-axe higher.

“No!” I cry out in protest just as Freyja bursts through the ranks of soldiers on horseback.

“Stand down!” she commands.

Alcippe hesitates, axe still raised, her breathing heavy with rage. Yvan has moved into a crouch, his eyes pinned on Alcippe with predatory stillness.

“Freyja!” I beg. “I need to speak to Queen Alkaia. I swear to you, Naga and Yvan mean you no harm! They rescued the Icarals. Please...help us.” I incline my head toward Ariel. “She needs a healer.Please!”

“This male has defiled the Goddess’s own sacred ground!” Alcippe spits out at Freyja, refusing to lower her rune-axe. “He is an abomination! Look how the child flees from him! Hemustbe killed!”

The two young soldiers are struggling to both comfort and keep hold of the screaming, panicked Icaral child. Freyja’s face is tense and undecided as Alcippe silently entreats her for permission to kill Yvan.

“You will all stand down,” a dominating voice calls out as hooves sound on the plaza’s stone.

Valasca rides in on her red-maned black horse, Queen Alkaia mounted behind her, Alder riding in beside them.

“Ariel needs a healer,” I cry out to Valasca, growing frantic. Valasca nods and calls out over the crowd.

“Lower your weapon, Alcippe,” Queen Alkaia says, so calmly she almost sounds blasé. “Stand down, all of you.”

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