Page 63 of Brutal Fae King
I give a shriek and scuttle back, but he doesn’t move. When I stand, I look around me. There seem to be a lot of guards around me, all of them splayed and unconscious. At least, I hope they’re unconscious…
But as I’m wondering, the sound of battle reaches me. Clashing metal, screaming, roaring of battle cries. I get up and sprint over to the split in the tent, where light is spilling over.
When I burst out, the first thing I see is Eyston Keep on the horizon. There’s an entire army clad in purple, crawling on the stone fortress. There are soldiers at the top of the keep, firing arrows at the attackers. A steaming container rests on top of the keep, and as I watch, the container is tipped over, hitting the army below.
Then, I see a glimmer in the air above my head. I don’t recognize the armor, but the one figure flies on golden wings. A dark fae. Then, a second one rises up from the battlefield, this one clad in purple.
The purple one must be Dralis, and that means the other one should be—
“Vicmar!”
His name wrenches from my lips in a strangled cry. My legs begin springing forward before my brain even has a plan. I have to reach him in time. I have to.
Chapter 20 - Vicmar
The wind rips my hair around my face as I look over the battlements. It’s like the weather itself has picked up on the prickling tension, blowing icy pricks of rain into my skin. The army has been making steady progress into the castle town, but they don’t seem to have interest in the townsfolk, at least.
They are walking toward us with purpose. They are aiming for the gate, and nothing else will suffice.
I lean back and scan my eyes over my meager army. More like a gathering, and I’m not sure any of them have ever seen battle before. Many of them are younger. Some shake with their bows in hand. Our best are in Murbyn Bridge, and I’m sure Dralis knows that.
I’ve placed the magic users around the crucial places in the battlements. They, too, are the lesser ones, the leftovers, and the spell I’ve taught them is surely above their skill sets.
But if we’re to survive this, then they are going to have to cast beyond their station.Everyoneis going to have to perform above their skill sets if we are to have a chance.
But I have to make it back. I have to make it back for Ebelor.
“Hold steady,” I tell them. “We have a plan. If we keep to it, we should be fine.”
They speak as one:“Yes, Sire!”
I look down the battlements. The army’s coming close. They’re almost here.
“Hold steady,” I say again.
The army shakes next to me. A few more minutes, and they’re at our gates. They have a battering ram, and they take it to the door. Before they can even swing it once, I turn and call:
“Oil! NOW!”
“Sire!”
A pair of guards take hold of the handles on the side of the boiling oil pot and heave. It creaks and then tips over. A golden waterfall tips from the top of the container, the flush of heat hitting me even as far away as I am. I don’t watch—I hear the cries of terror and pain under us all. When I look down next, they’ve scattered away from the door of the keep.
“Archers, fire!”I roar.
All of the soldiers pull back their arrows and fire. Before I can see the effect it has on the battle, I see a dot hovering up on the horizon, shining purple in the sunlight.
There he is…
I look at the guard standing next to me.
“Give the order to the magic users. I have to face him.”
“E-even if it locks you out?” he asks.
“Don’t question me,” I snap. “And give the order.”
“Yes, Sire.”
