Page 117 of A War of Three Kings

A horn bellows in the distance, low and drawn-out. It has my stomach somersaulting and my heart racing.

Keira made it. Cyprien is here.

For a moment, I am so overtaken by sharp waves of relief that I don’t care about the reinforcements, only her. It crashes through me like icy buckets of water have been tossed over my head.

I send out my awareness fast and hard toward her, stroking against her mind like a gentle caress, and am rewarded with the pleasure of her soul embracing mine. There is ordered chaos around her as they advance to the crest of that hill. I pull away—she cannot afford the distraction.

Hundreds of enemy soldiers reach the top of the far rise, then freeze. Their lonely silhouettes break all at once, racing back down the slope and into the valley, clashing with their own forces. Anarchy breaks out as those who have seen the other half of our army attempt to shove past their own people, and many go down, crushed beneath friendly boots.

The horns of the North blow a rapid command.

“SHIELD WALL! Advance your march!” I roar, and they comply. It is an art form, to move in unison like this without disrupting our formation. A thousand others around me accompany each step forward, making the soil reverberate beneath our boots.

We slam our short swords against the inside of our shields and the echoing crash that bounces around the valley could almost bring down mountains. A distinct ripple of fear runs through the enemy far below, many turning to look up at us and fleeing from our advance.

Then the warriors pick up their chant. “The North! The North! The North!”

Edmund raises his sword in the air, his horse rearing on two legs and making him look like he belongs in a gods-damned painting. Then he charges his unit forward. Froth flies from the horses’ mouths as they race down the hill.They slice down our enemy, blood spraying in beautiful crimson arcs, the hooves of the warhorses striking and trampling those beneath them.

A spike of jealousy cuts through me as we make our slow descent with careful footing.

“This formation takes too long to get to the good bit,” Silvan growls at my side as we advance down the slope. “I need to cut someone.”

“That makes two of us,” I grunt. “Pool your magic with mine and follow my lead. Let’s break the ground.”

Drake shoots me a devious look from my other side. “It would be my fucking pleasure.”

“Yeah. Nothing would make me happier.” Silvan smiles. It is disturbing.

I link my magic with Silvan’s and Drake’s, thrusting it deep into the soil. I take charge of our brimming power, leaping across roots and through organic deposits in the earth, until my awareness reaches the center of the valley. Hundreds of boots stomp over it, but I continue searching, because I want to make a bang. Literally.

“There! Right fucking there!” Drake yells, and tugs our joint power to the left.

A wagon loaded with black powder sits in the mud, abandoned with a broken axle. It is nowhere near Edmund and his unit, making it a perfect target.

I am vaguely aware of my physical body marching towards the enemy, separate from my consciousness. Of the bodies pressed behind mine, pushing me forward, and the weight of the shield on my arm. We are minutes away from meeting the army, and I am impatient for death.

As one, we thrust our magic deeper into the soil, tearing the earth apart with such force that a ravine suddenly rips open. The liquid fire of my raw magic burns through me and flows from my body to the growing rift, fueling it with my power.

The wagon slams through the broken ground to shatter at the bottom, igniting all that fragile black powder. The earth shakes wildly around it, penetrating to the depth of my soul through my wield. Hot rushes of fire expand outward, incinerating the soldiers unfortunate enough to be running past, and tossing bodies into the air.

Sweat drips down my face as I hold the wield for a little longer. The press of enemy troops pushes those in front of them unwittingly into the ravine in their panic, filling the space with thrashing bodies. As they try to climb out, I release my hold on the magic. The land snaps back into place, crushing hundreds within its depths.

A deep, throaty laugh brings me completely back to my body.

“This is what I am talking about!” Drake yells.

Another handful of minutes, and we will be on the enemy. They are a damned mess, most with their backs to us, attempting to flee. Edmund’s unit is spread across their tail, cutting through them like butter.

“Prepare to engage!” I roar, sending my voice across the front line of the shield wall with an amplifying air wield. “Spears at the ready!”

A cry echoes through the battlefield, and my gaze snaps to the peak of the far ridge. Thousands of warriors on horseback charge down into the valley with lances at the ready, holding streaming banners in Appleshield colors. Kelpies gallop alongside them, standing out with their blue coloring, and I know Kai is in their number.

My heart tumbles as a wave of fae warriors pushes forward after the cavalry. Fire sprites that look like huge, burning torches, tossing fireballs into chaos. Forest nymphs riding the lumbering forms of spriggan. A whole score of high fae in Lord Cedar’s colors.

And then the dragons arrive.

Chapter 31

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