Blood And Stone

Chapter 49: Sithaurian Shadow

Purple eyes glided over the horizon. The unnatural screeching of Eryn's precious creations permeated the air and brought every heart to a sudden stop. The sound of life being forced from the precious creatures had Raven bowing her head. Her words floated away in a whisper as soft as the feathers that fell from the Wraiths. "Fate, accept their innocent souls into the fields of forever. Give us the strength to pursue your will and see that it be done in a just and true manner. Guide us with soft hands and welcome us into your eternal glory."

Gnashing teeth sprinted through the trees ahead. The sound of bow strings being pulled taut above their heads pulled Raven's attention from her prayers, back to the rapidly approaching violence. She cast her glance sideways to ensure her troops were prepared. Each one of her Tricksters wore their black clothing. Shirts and pants that held themselves so close to their bodies that they seemed to be their skin. Every twitch of a muscle could be seen as the moonlight that broke through the canopy traced their forms. The pride that rose in her chest gave way to bravery and anticipation. Two hundred of her troops pulled their daggers from their scabbards in unison.

The thundering approached. Her eyes rose to look at the archers above. With one silent swing of an arm, the snapping of released tension crackled in the night. The arrows pushed past leaf and branch to whistle in their freedom. The soft thud of the arrowheads sinking into flesh was muffled only by the sounds of the strings being pulled back again.

Wave after wave of arrows soared through the night. Line after line of screeching, angry Celik'r fell to the snow. Teeth on flesh gave way to the frenzied slurping of blood and the need for more. Raven could not understand why they pushed forward. Was it to bring down their enemies or to allow their kinsmen to fall and become their sustenance? The purity of the evil before them shook her to her very core. Their teeth glittered in the moonlight for a brief moment before all sounds stopped.

The dull silhouettes faded back into the darkness, disappearing as though they had never set foot in the fresh snow. A cease-fire came from branches above. Strings were held taut, the arms of each archer holding steady. Raven peered around the tree she stood behind. She narrowed her eyes and allowed her vision to pierce the veil in front of her. She saw nothing. It was as though the Celik'r had become nothing but a mere memory in their abandoned footprints. She looked harder.

A Sithaurian heart beat against her ribcage like a prisoner demanding to be set free. Deciding that it was worth the small risk, she stepped to the side of her hiding spot and forward. At the edge of her range of vision, she could make out the soft purple glow of flowing blood. They were still there.

The line of enemies had fallen back but stood solid as a wall of stone. Tongues flicked out to relieve their lips of lingering blood. Nostrils flared. Tempers rose and anticipation dripped from every line of their bodies. Not a single one shifted their feet. No stance of preparation was taken. They stood confusingly at ease in silence so deafening that every flake of snow could be heard as it hit the earth.

Parting like an open gate, the line broke apart for a short moment. The battlefield stood as quiet as a grave. Mouthless beasts strode forward. Their snouts rose into the air. Nostrils flared once more, returning to stillness when no scents answered the call.

Ice crystals spun through the air. The sharp points shone with menacing intent in the darkness. Raven moved, throwing her body back behind the tree as the crystals embedded themselves in the wood. One slid past and caressed her arm. Plastering her back against the trunk of the tree, her eyes fell to her forearm. One hot bead of blood crawled its way down her skin, leaving an obvious trail of crimson in its wake.

The beasts' snouts rose again. The metallic scent brought their tails up to twitch in excitement. Raven's eyes widened with realization. They could not see them as well as they could smell the scent of her blood. The collective inhalation that followed brought sheer panic rising into her throat.