Page 69 of A Rising Hope

“Are they retreating?” I questioned as the enemy soldiers pulled back, stumbling on their steps as they raced for the trees ahead. Orest’s brows furrowed deep, and he took a step forward.

“They are,” he answered, his eyes scanning the horizon. I didn’t need to see him to know he thought the same thoughts, felt the same panic I had at the notion.

“Why?” I said more to myself than to him. It was too early in the battle for this. There wasn’t a clear winner this far. Too soon. Too odd.

Something was wrong.

Why? Why are they retreatingnow? Think, Zora, think!My thoughts shouted at me. Begging me to see what my eyes weren’t seeing. Like a deck of cards, my mind shuffled through every possible scenario, every possibility.Why . . .A small, lonely cloud passed above me, shielding me from the relentless sun for a fleeting moment, an insignificant passing. A clue.

My mouth dropped open.

The trees.

I knew then.

I turned to Orest and met his sharp look. He, too, already knew.

“Air cover. Now! Call for the air cover!” his voice roared commands to the battalions. Our war horns already sounded the pleading command.

“Push forward towards the trees. Let’s finish these motherfuckers!” I shouted, aware that our lives no longer hung in balance, our threads being slowly cut by a dull knife.

Battalion commanders repeated their orders. The calamity of battle was no longer about winning, but surviving as the entire army joined in on the chase, like a spear of an arrow ready to pierce the retreating enemy army’s belly.

I ran alongside so many. Shouts and screams united like a war song. My legs barked at me; my lungs burned, but I ran, hoping to outrun the dooming thoughts within.

We were too far from the trees.

We were too far out in the open. Even with the dragonflies, even with their fleet, we were simple feed, scattered for animals to pick at.

But there was no returning now, there was nothing to retreat to. Only forward.

More clouds raced towards us like they, too, were running to escape. Shadows covered the stretched, macabre meadow. Thefirst loud screech erupted like thunder, the vile sound rattling my bones.

“Hold the lines!” Orest shouted, and I swallowed hard as the sky darkened.

And hundreds upon hundreds of eyeless creatures with leathery wings and sharp curved claws and teeth flew towards us, starved and ready to devour us.

47

ZORA

Abloodbath and carnage.

There was no resemblance of the previously strategic battle.

No, this was an execution. Brutal, cruel, ruthless, and merciless.

The wicked creatures tore through our army like a sharp knife through softened butter, their claws and mouths tearing us to pieces. Faces were no longer recognizable, bodies no longer counted. The air filled with eerie dread as the peaceful meadows turned into a cemetery of dismembered limbs and heads thrown in all directions.

“Aim for their bellies and their eye sockets!” I shouted another command. But it was no use. I moved just fast enough to escape the claws headed for my throat. My blade, like an asp, struck the creature just below its wings.

Fire and ash burned, but it was like the creatures were immune to it, only angered by the flames, draining our wells of magic bit by bit. We needed Gideon; we needed Finn. Their raw fire would stop this, give us a chance to survive. But there wouldn’t be one now.

They weren’t here.

And we were left alone.

Like shards of a broken mirror, the silver wings of the beautiful dragonflies were stained with tar-like blood, covering the fields, reflecting the disheveled bodies of our soldiers.

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