Page 163 of Faeling
The fae soldiers pulsed forward, moving to encircle Ravenna and Amaranthe, but a blast of force knocked them to the side. They went stumbling to their left, some colliding into columns, some tripping on the steps, and others barely able to defend themselves from the oncoming orcs.
Ravenna felt the force on her back, then a pair of hands on her shoulders. Leita leapt over Ravenna, the brute force of her magic slamming against Amaranthe with the subtly of a battering ram.
The Fae Queen gasped, staggering backwards with her hands out to defend herself. An opposing wave of magic crashed against Leita’s, forcing her to a halt.
The two royal fae stood there, arms extended, dueling magic keeping them mere feet apart.
“Hello, auntie,” Leita growled, a feral madness glinting in her eye. It was the look of a predator who’d smelled blood.
Amaranthe’s fair features contorted with rage. “You should’ve stayed dead,velloi.”Dragonfly,she called Leita.
“You know me, auntie. I was never good at taking direction.”
Ravenna hurried to renew her attack, only to be intercepted by a fae warrior. His sword came swinging for her head to the echoing bellow of her angryazaifrom across the citadel. Ravenna slowed the descent with her magic before catching his blade with her smaller one. Before the warrior could retake his stance, she caught his guts with her shoulder and kicked him in the bollocks. Asta would be proud.
Another soldier took his place, one after the other, until Ravenna almost lost sight of the royal fae. Her blade flashed through the air quicker than she could see, rebuffing attacks. She danced in what little space she had, avoiding grasping hands and kicking heels.
A wild scream pierced the air, and a soldier to her left crumpled to the marble floor, stampeded under a small herd of angry unicorns. Oberon led the charge, lethal horn swinging. He cut through the fae line, big body shoving away soldiers as his horn caught swords and helms. The other unicorns followed right behind, forming a loose ring around Ravenna and Leita.
Together, she and the unicorns disarmed, beat back, or slew the soldiers in their vicinity, the screech of metal ringing in her ears.
Dodging another soldier, Ravenna twirled round her attacker, a path finally cleared for Amaranthe. She pumped her arms and legs, wings flapping behind her to give her speed.Ravenna hurtled through the narrow empty spaces, her vision going red.
Before the final few strides to get at the queen, Amaranthe swung her right arm to catch Ravenna, the force of her magic hitting like a physical wall.
But splitting her power gave Leita the advantage. With a battle cry that sounded from the depths of her soul, Leita pushed forward, charging the wall of magic with her shoulder as though it was a door to break down.
Huffing, Amaranthe waved a hand at a fallen soldier. As she returned to fending off Leita, the soldier jerked upright, the movements unnatural. Ravenna watched in horror as a dead fae, their face pale and gaze unseeing, shuffled towards her, their sword raised.
Necromancy. Her stomach clenched with disgust.
The undead soldier made for little more than fodder, their movements clumsy, almost reluctant, but it was just enough to keep Ravenna distracted. When one fell, another took its place.
And it wasn’t just those soldiers near Amaranthe. All across the citadel, fallen fae rose from pools of blood and gore. Some were still barely alive, their eyes frantically twisting in their sockets as they moved involuntarily. Others moved despite exposed bone or entrails leaking from open wounds. Orcs swore and fae shuddered, horrified at the sight.
We must stop her,declared Oberon, flinging an impaled body off his horn.Destroy her and the dead will find their peace again.
With a running leap, Ravenna jumped onto Oberon’s back, balancing just long enough to spring off again. Diving into a rolling somersault, she bounced back up beside Leita. Dirk in hand, she rushed Amaranthe again, her own magic gatheredright in front of her as a bulwark.
The Queen snarled to see her coming. She tried to stop Ravenna’s charge with magic again, but theirs met in a silent percussion. Ravenna got closer than before, swinging her dagger. The blade missed, but the force of the attack sent Amaranthe stumbling backwards.
Leita sprang forward, eyes flashing more dangerously than the blade in her hand.
The stone beneath their feet rumbled ominously, sending them both staggering to the side. The very earth shook, plumes of dust cascading down from the high ceiling.
Shit. Amaranthe was going to bring this place down on all of them before she lost.
Vallek gathered all his strength, standing to meet Mattias. His captain rushed forward, covered by a tight formation of berserkers, stark relief plain in his expression.
“My king!” Mattias reached for Vallek, taking hold of the manacles. His hand jerked back, and Mattias rumbled with disdain. “They’re spelled.”
“Draining my strength,” Vallek confirmed. It nearly windedhim to say just that.
Never had Vallek been so tired, so weak. It shamed him how much effort it took just to keep his eyes open as his warriors rallied to him. He’d destroy every last one of these blasted manacles when he returned home, and then he’d destroy whoever made them. Infernal devices they were.
Mattias called for tools and weapons, determined to break the irons. Vallek could do little more than look on, supported by two of his warriors as Mattias and another went to work trying to break the chain, pick the lock, or crack the irons.
His raw wrists protested the strain, but Vallek ignored it. Propped against the bulk of a berserker, Vallek craned his neck to see over the many heads, trying to spot his foolish, damnable, glorious mate.
