Moth

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: ON THE WALLS

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ON THE WALLS

Koyee stood upon the walls of Pahmey, clutching her sword, and watched thousands of sunlit demons sail toward her city.

"I will fight well, Father," she whispered, the scent of fire in her nostrils. "I will defend you, Eloria. We are the night."

The Timandrians covered the Inaro River. A hundred of their warships, each one large as a temple, had smashed the Elorian fleet. Now hundreds of rowboats detached from the larger ships like baby spiders climbing off their mothers' backs. As Koyee stood upon the walls, she watched the landing craft sail through burning flotsam toward her home.

"Pahmey is now my home," she whispered as the wind blew her hair. "I will kill for you, towers of my city. I will die for you if I must."

Her heart thudded. Sweat covered her palms. She was afraid, but she would not run. She stood among soldiers, clad only in her silken dress, but she had a sword and she could fight.

"Here, take this," said the soldier beside her, the one who had first tried to send her down the wall. He handed her a bow, its metal arch shaped as a dragon, and a quiver of arrows. "These will serve you better here than your sword."

She took the weapon. "What's your name, friend?"

"Ashay," he said and bowed his head.

"I am Koyee." She met his gaze and placed a hand on his shoulder. "May we fight well, Ashay. May the constellations bless us."

He reached into his quiver and drew an arrow. Silken fletching rose upon its metal shaft. His bowstring creaked as he pulled it back.

Koyee had shot bows before, hunting upon the plains. This weapon felt familiar and comforting in her hands. She nocked an arrow. She stared down at the encroaching landing craft and the thousands of Timandrians they ferried.

"Aim for their faces, Ashay," she said softly. "Their breastplates look thick."

He snorted a laugh. "If you can aim for faces rather than breastplates, you're a better archer than I am. I'm simply going to fire downward and hope I hit something."

She glanced at him and though he wore a visor, she could swear he was grinning. She gave him a wry smile. "That works too."

The first landing craft navigated around flotsam, a sinking junk, and discarded fishing nets to reach the docks. They moored and their soldiers emerged, shouting battle cries. Clad in steel, the demons ran across the docks toward the city gates. Their banners flew high, black and gold, sporting dark birds and yellow sunbursts. Like waves toward a boulder, they rushed toward the gates.

"For Eloria!" cried an Elorian commander upon a turret, waving the moonstar banner of Qaelin. "We are the night!"

"We are the night!" Koyee repeated the cry, and a thousand voices rose with hers.

All across the walls, the soldiers of Pahmey loosed their arrows.

The shards whistled through the night. Arrows slammed into Timandrians below. Dozens of men shouted and fell. Most kept charging, arrows thrusting out of their shields.

"Elorians, fire!" shouted their commander.

Koyee tugged her bowstring back. She closed one eye. She aimed at a charging Timandrian below, a lanky demon in pale steel, the black bird upon his breastplate. Thousands of arrows flew and slammed into the enemy below, most falling harmlessly into the water or embedding into shields.