Page 84 of Fae Reckoning

When the arrows raining down on us were so numerous that they darkened the sky, I expected us to lose as many as a third of our numbers in that first offensive strike alone. With a sickening churn of my gut, I guided an invisible Zafi to hide behind me and prepared for the worst—when shields of some sort ofshimmering magic went up instants before the arrows would have struck, protecting our entire troop.

People screamed and called out orders to each other. Magical creatures roared and snarled. After that, it became impossible to keep track of all that was happening at once, only that I instantly understood why the experienced warriors among us had felt confident marching straight up to what amounted to the palace’s front door: they’d accounted for magic and the vast variety of skills our troop must possess. I, with my undeveloped and still unfamiliar preternatural powers, had yet again misjudged a situation.

Relieved that no one expected me to command our army—just to kill the immortal queen who was supposed to be unkillable, no biggie—I allowed my focus to shrink down to what was directly affecting me, anyone close by, and of course my friends. Everything else I allowed to fade away into the mounting din.

Every segment of our army had different goals. Most of the others were to decimate the false queen’s forces, invade the palace, and claim it. Rush, Xeno, Ryder, Hiroshi, West, Roan, Ivar, and I were to find our way down to the dragon dungeon without being spotted or killed—some-fucking-how—where Ivar would undo the dragons’ shadow bonds so we could free the dragons and prevent Talisa from pulling a surge of power from them. After that, we were to locate her and kill her. Given how invincible she’d been every other time, our aims felt insurmountable. They werealso undeniably imperative. However we managed it, we had to succeed.

This was the Mirror World’s one and only chance. If we were to fail … well, we simply couldn’t afford to fail.

Through slits carved into the palace’s turrets for this purpose, more arrows launched at us. This time the arrows themselves shimmered as brightly as our shield. Most bounced harmlessly off the protective barrier, but several of them pierced it, thudding into at least a few of our allies, if the ensuing groans were an indicator.

The defensive dome pulsed with renewed light, spreading to fill the holes pierced by the arrows. The giant turtles with the armored shells stalked beyond the shield to begin climbing the walls of the palace, their legs suctioning to the stone and glass. Several of the twig-like winged creatures, and some numenits and parvnits, flew to the edge of the shield and waited. After a third volley of arrows touched the barrier with similar results, they zipped through it, flying toward the slits in the stone with unerring speed, racing to reach the archers before they could loose another attack.

“Come on,” Rush said, piercing a cocoon-like sensation that isolated me from the barrage of violence. Everything was muffled; I didn’t know when exactly that had happened. When he bumped my arm with the back of his hand, his touch brought back the cacophony of battle in a sharp slap of volume.

His stare flicked across me. “Youokay?”

“Yeah, of course,” I replied, tamping down the natural instinct to flee from danger.

He studied me for another quick second before scanning our surroundings, his muscles coiling in anticipation.

“Zafi,” I bit out over my shoulder. “Go with Reed and Pru. They’ll keep you safe.”

Reed, Pru, Edsel, Bolt, Azariah, Bertram, and Ivar’s horse were at the very back of our group, where they’d look out for each other and keep safe.

When I felt Zafi’s invisible stare still on me, I snapped, “Go. Hurry!”

“I’m already with them,” came her tiny voice—from far too close.

I spun around. Reed, Pru, Edsel, and even Bolt stood just behind Hiroshi and Roan with their heads held high, defiance brimming from their steady gazes. The others, especially Azariah, who continued to lean against Bertram, appeared less certain about their riskier positioning.

“You’re not supposed to be…” I started to tell them when the shield directly overhead wavered and a glimmering arrow shot through it on trajectory to hit me, Rush, or Xeno.

We dove out of the way. It stabbed the grass, its shaft vibrating with an ongoingboooiiiiiingggg, in the exact spot I’d just occupied.

“Let’s move,” Xeno barked, waving us forward. “All of you. Now.”

Rush steered me by the elbow, seeming to take inall directions at once. We darted beyond the shimmering shield to duck behind the nearest topiaries, in the shape of undulating snakes that rivaled Einar in size. Large, fragrant, fuchsia flowers dotted the serpents as an example of the palace’s dichotomous nature: the most dangerous of darkness concealed behind a veneer of beauty.

I’d barely confirmed that the others trailed behind us when Rush guided me to the next frilly bush. By the time he led me to the third collection of shrubbery, the overwhelm that had been weighing me down vanished. My senses sharpened swiftly. My muscles suddenly twitched with the need to move.

We darted from one huddle of bushes and beds to the next, remaining only long enough to scout out any new dangers. When we were within final-sprinting distance to the palace proper, I realized that whatever had been dulling my senses, making me feel removed from the action, hadn’t originated with me. I simply felt too different now, so much more like my usual self. It was grimly true that Zako’s training, though grueling, hadn’t been sufficient to prepare me for the stark reality of war. But I’d never freeze up at the first sign of danger, most especially when so many were counting on me to lead them to victory. Uneasy that it could happen again when my instincts needed to be keener than ever, I squatted to press both hands to the land. Unsure whether it would hear me, I projected my thoughts toward it anyway.

Screams pierced the buzz of battle. I glanced up to witness a body plummeting to the ground from several stories up, and a giant turtle yanking stones free from around an arrowslit, which the falling man had presumably just shielded behind. While stones still tumbled to the ground after the soldier, the giant turtle deftly climbed through the expanded opening. Atop a neighboring platform, a pair of numenits were stabbing an archer so many times that he must already be dead.

I continued telling the land,

One of the massive hogs charged toward the palace, its muscled body sprinting on short, fast legs. A barrage of arrows pierced its thick hide. Still, it ran—until a pygmy ogre emerged from behind the castle’s bailey to club its head with all his might, snapping off one of its tusks on the club’s arc. The hog stumbled, staggered, and dropped where it stood. The pygmy ogre roared, bent to run his meaty fingers through the creature’s blood, sniffed it while licking his lips with a fat tongue, and next smeared it all over his big bald head.

A pair of pygmy ogres appeared behind the first, and dozens of guards garbed in scarlet, instead of the sky-blue or forest-green of Talisa’s and the king’s personal guard, ran down the pitch of the hill. Swordsraised high, they cried out while dodging pruned hedges.

I amended for the land. Guilt bloomed even before I said it, but still I added,

“Keep your heads down,” Xeno was brusquely telling our crew. “And move fast. Don’t stop for anything.”

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