The Protector and the Peacemaker

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

(Glenda)

Dread weighed heavily in Glenda's heart as she was towed behind the army of Mythics. Her hands were cuffed together, and a long chain tethered her to the troll that had been assigned to be her keeper. Her feet, though not bare, were sore and scuffed from having to trek so far.

I'm too old for this, she thought. Her bones were aching and threatening to give out on her, but she forced herself to keep moving as Rayalga's attack force marched on. The gryphon had made it clear that his plans for her were by no means essential to his ultimate goal. If she slowed him down, or even showed signs that she might do so, he would have her killed for her earlier treason.

I have to stay alive, she told herself. Porter is out there somewhere. If Rayalga kills me, I'll never get to see him again.

Part of her mind wanted to think that Porter, her poor, little, innocent son, would need her help. She shut this part out, though. As much as she would have loved to go back to being his foster mother just like she had been years ago, she knew that that wasn't an option. Porter wasn't a child anymore. She had known that the moment she'd seen him. He'd looked so mature, wearing his armor and holding his sword. He'd had the eyes of a warrior.

Just like his father...

At first, terror had rooted Glenda's feet to the floor. She'd lost her little boy all those years ago, and she wasn't sure she could handle seeing the Slayer he'd been turned into. His eyes, though... They hadn't been the cold, cruel eyes of a Slayer. A warrior, perhaps, but not a Slayer. The way he'd looked at his friends, the sphinx in particular, had assured her of that. Happiness welled up in her chest, knowing that, somehow, her adopted son had resisted the Slayers' attempts to corrupt him.

The sphinx, though. Glenda furrowed her brow in confusion. The boy, the wolf, and the chimera had all been Porter's friends, but the way he'd looked at the sphinx had been different. There had been something else in his eyes. Something...

"On our right!" somebody ahead of her called, jolting the old woman out of her thoughts.

The Mythics spun to look, all of them scrambling to draw their weapons. Swords clanged together and shields shoved the untrained soldiers around as they attempted to line up against whatever was coming at them. Glenda halted, her breath catching in her throat from fear. There was something the distance. Several somethings, she realized, though they were too far away for her to see clearly.

"It's just more Mythics," she heard someone say, relieved.

A few of the soldiers lowered their weapons, but then Rayalga flew above their heads, regal and majestic in the early afternoon sun.

"Keep your weapons ready!" he commanded, circling around to land before them, directly in the path of the oncoming Mythics. "Attack when they come in range!"

Confused exclamations ran through the ranks. Attack the Mythics? Why? Even Glenda wasn't sure what the Arch-Mythic's reasoning here was. He'd made it clear that he wanted to wipe out mankind, so why was he setting his army on his own subjects?

Because he's gone mad, she thought bitterly as the other Mythics drew nearer. She could see them more clearly now that they were closer. There were about ten of them that she could count, almost all of them different species. She saw two leprechauns, a gnome, a dwarf, three elves, a red skinned fae, and a gorgon. Leading the charge was an old centaur.

"Archers and spellcasters at the ready!" Rayalga ordered when they were only fifty feet away.

His army shuffled awkwardly behind him before raising their bows and staffs. Glenda could tell that none of them wanted to harm their own kind, but they didn't dare defy the Arch-Mythic.