Page 158 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
A spine chilling horn shatters through the air, its resonance loud and haunting.
My skin prickles at the strange blaring noise.
Cedwyn pulls his horse up short, and the wagon stops. I rise to my feet to listen to it better. The squire and I exchange a quick glance before the terrifying sound blast through the realm again.
The world stands still at the sound of that call.
It roars through my ears, the force of it knocking me to the ground.
I take a stuttering breath before the next one arrives.
“What was that?” I ask.
Cedwyn’s eyes widen and a broad smile spread on his face. He laughs at my question, hollow and maniacal. “It’s a declaration, sweet queen.”
Heavens above.
It’s the call to the Wild Hunt.
Landon—the Herald has summoned them for their king.
In the cold northern mountain, the dwarven lords are the first to answer that call.
One by one the light beacons from the summits of Darvan mountain flare up to life from the flames of Astraea herself.
Please, please dear gods.
Fear quickly drowns all my pain and exhaustion.
Somewhere in the distant peaks of Ironwick, the wyverns signal their answer by turning the sky red with their flames.
My heart jumps to my throat.
No, it can’t be.
From the deep seas of the Varan trench, the seadragons howl their answer. Their song is a promise of death and destruction.
No. No. No.
I heave in and out to calm myself.
I have small hope that Mavren and Kheirall will not join in, I’ve sent them letters, a request for peace. But Myrkheim and Hel both answer that summon, beating their wardrums. The distant pounding is muffled and muted by the chaos here, but it’s there, as clear and as soft as my heartbeat.
One by one, his allies answer the Fae King’s summon. It spawns a new set of horror chilling down my spine. I’m scared.So, so scared. I wrap my arms around my body to calm the fear welling up inside of me.
Gods save us all…
It takes a while for me to open my eyes again. I manage to drag in a breath. Then another. I pull myself together and climb onto the wagon.
“Can we go now?” I ask the young knight.
A spark churns in the black abyss of his eyes.
“Of course,” Cedwyn says, nudging his horse into action again. The boy is whistling and laughing at the impending calamity. He is too young to understand the horrors of war.
The blaring sound and drumming continue, a harbinger of the forces to come. I scrunch my nose against the smell of rust and steel in the air. It becomes even more depressing when I remember the metallic scent is not rust. I shut my eyes, letting the rocking movement of the cart lull me to sleep.
Light from our campsite in the forest coaxes me to peel my eyes open.
