blacks and olive greens, seemingly of its own accord. The feathers were a black and silver with spots that danced and jumped from feather to feather.
“They'll return to you,” Zela said as they trotted down the steps, following the surge of warriors toward the stairs on the wall. “When you fire one, the feathers will help steer it toward its mark. Do not take that as an excuse to be careless, though. They can only do so much, minor adjustments here and there. They rely on you to do most of the work. And when the quiver is running low, call for them and they will return.”
Gasps echoed down from the wall above as the first of the knights reached the top. Aiofe waited at the bottom, fear pumping through her veins as she watched the reactions above her. “What do I say?”
“You'll know when the time comes. They are linked to the bow. The bow will tell you. Now focus.”
They ascended the stairs behind Bors and Calis. As the knights reached the top, they parted and let the women through. Aiofe stepped forward and looked at the area surrounding the castle. The wide field that seemed to go on forever was filling with faeries of the greatest assortment Aiofe had ever seen. Blood whelps stood next to sprites, red caps scampered around banewolves, trolls and imps and bogies brandished weapons and shouted at the knights.
Two trolls were stomping across the field, shaking the ground as they made a beeline for the gates. They reached the big stone and wood barrier and began pounding against the doors with all their might. They doors were reinforced with nearly unbreakable magic, but that didn't make the occupants inside feel much safer as the trolls were joined by faeries of all sizes and shapes.
“ Is that Seloreth?” Drakka leaned against the wall and cupped her hands to her eyes. Her brother walked up to her and she pointed at a faery in the middle of the crowd. Deklen followed her finger and his jaw dropped. The white skin and black hair were unmistakable.
“ It is. He is not one I ever imagined would turn on us. Especially not for the likes of Leanansidhe.”
“ I do not think he had a choice in the matter. He died in the last battle against Leanansidhe's forces. I watched the arrow pierce his chest.” Drakka snapped her fingers at Calis. “Your scope, knight.”
The faery handed her a short tube. She grabbed either end and pulled, lengthening it out so she could look through the fatter end. “Look,” she said as she handed the scope to her brother. The general of the North pressed the tube to his eye. “I don't believe it.” The man's skin was not white. It was gray and pieces of it were rotting off. His black eyes were dull and stared straight ahead. His armor was ripped and burned in spots. He held himself at an angle, his head and hips cocked to the side, very unbecoming of a royal knight.
“What? What's wrong?” Aiofe, shorter than either of them, had her hands on the wall and was pushing herself up on to her tiptoes to survey the surging crowd below. Scattered throughout the wicked creatures were other faces, more human faces. Aiofe recognized one, a faery she had passed on her way to meet Arthur for the first time. She had watched him fall in battle. Her eyes narrowed as she looked away from him to Deklen. “What's going on?”
Deklen ignored her and instead handed the scope to Zela. The blond general took it and scanned the crowd. “It's as we feared. She has corrupted them.”
“A lot of them.” Eden stood on the other side of Zela. She didn't need the scope to see all the faces in the crowd that she recognized. “The battle was a ruse. A play for bodies. We more than doubled the size of her army. How far does it go?”
No one answered. They all watched as more and more of the abominations poured out of the woods and surrounded the castle. Tristan raised his bow and aimed at one of the closer faeries. The woman had blond hair and the distinctive features of a Southern faery, but her
“They'll return to you,” Zela said as they trotted down the steps, following the surge of warriors toward the stairs on the wall. “When you fire one, the feathers will help steer it toward its mark. Do not take that as an excuse to be careless, though. They can only do so much, minor adjustments here and there. They rely on you to do most of the work. And when the quiver is running low, call for them and they will return.”
Gasps echoed down from the wall above as the first of the knights reached the top. Aiofe waited at the bottom, fear pumping through her veins as she watched the reactions above her. “What do I say?”
“You'll know when the time comes. They are linked to the bow. The bow will tell you. Now focus.”
They ascended the stairs behind Bors and Calis. As the knights reached the top, they parted and let the women through. Aiofe stepped forward and looked at the area surrounding the castle. The wide field that seemed to go on forever was filling with faeries of the greatest assortment Aiofe had ever seen. Blood whelps stood next to sprites, red caps scampered around banewolves, trolls and imps and bogies brandished weapons and shouted at the knights.
Two trolls were stomping across the field, shaking the ground as they made a beeline for the gates. They reached the big stone and wood barrier and began pounding against the doors with all their might. They doors were reinforced with nearly unbreakable magic, but that didn't make the occupants inside feel much safer as the trolls were joined by faeries of all sizes and shapes.
“ Is that Seloreth?” Drakka leaned against the wall and cupped her hands to her eyes. Her brother walked up to her and she pointed at a faery in the middle of the crowd. Deklen followed her finger and his jaw dropped. The white skin and black hair were unmistakable.
“ It is. He is not one I ever imagined would turn on us. Especially not for the likes of Leanansidhe.”
“ I do not think he had a choice in the matter. He died in the last battle against Leanansidhe's forces. I watched the arrow pierce his chest.” Drakka snapped her fingers at Calis. “Your scope, knight.”
The faery handed her a short tube. She grabbed either end and pulled, lengthening it out so she could look through the fatter end. “Look,” she said as she handed the scope to her brother. The general of the North pressed the tube to his eye. “I don't believe it.” The man's skin was not white. It was gray and pieces of it were rotting off. His black eyes were dull and stared straight ahead. His armor was ripped and burned in spots. He held himself at an angle, his head and hips cocked to the side, very unbecoming of a royal knight.
“What? What's wrong?” Aiofe, shorter than either of them, had her hands on the wall and was pushing herself up on to her tiptoes to survey the surging crowd below. Scattered throughout the wicked creatures were other faces, more human faces. Aiofe recognized one, a faery she had passed on her way to meet Arthur for the first time. She had watched him fall in battle. Her eyes narrowed as she looked away from him to Deklen. “What's going on?”
Deklen ignored her and instead handed the scope to Zela. The blond general took it and scanned the crowd. “It's as we feared. She has corrupted them.”
“A lot of them.” Eden stood on the other side of Zela. She didn't need the scope to see all the faces in the crowd that she recognized. “The battle was a ruse. A play for bodies. We more than doubled the size of her army. How far does it go?”
No one answered. They all watched as more and more of the abominations poured out of the woods and surrounded the castle. Tristan raised his bow and aimed at one of the closer faeries. The woman had blond hair and the distinctive features of a Southern faery, but her
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