Enchant (Rae Wilder #3)

Chapter Seven

LOCHLANN AND CONALL DREW THEIR SWORDS. “How did they get so close,” Lochlann demanded.

“They rushed us faster than we expected,” Conall answered the ire in his tone and stance plain. “They seemed friendly at first but then….”

A lone rider on a white mare, crimson cloak billowing behind her broke from the shadows near the were-cats. She lifted her rifle, secured in the crook of her arm, and aimed for one of Kalcifer’s wolf-brothers who was mid Change.

Amelia darted to one side and crouched down, limbs bunching together before she sprung up and bit the horse’s neck – forepaws clawing. Her hind legs strutted to keep her balanced.

Nimah launched herself at the Cleric, unsaddling her. They landed hard. Nimah tumbled over and twisted back up. Pouncing, her heavy forepaws held the Cleric down as she ripped her throat out.

Another wave of Clerics stampeded into the clearing. Their mounts flecked with white, exhausted.

A Cleric charged towards us and when Breandan called magics to him, the beast skidded to a stop, sensing the surge of power. The horse whinnied in fear and backed up, head thrashing. The Cleric yanked on the reins and the horse reared, hooves kicking.

“Get back,” Breandan ordered. “Guard the path, they must not reach the heart of Wyld land.”

Across the clearing, there was a flickering in the shadows. A tingle of the familiar buzzed over the surface of my skin, making the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand on end. My fairy sight was keen enough to pierce the darkness through the trees, but there was a solid form there I could not see through.

I squinted and then it was gone.

Daphne – misinterpreting my hesitation as defiance – grabbed my arm and dragged me down the pathway towards the ClanTrees. She stopped when we were far enough to keep an eye on everything, but remain unseen.

Breandan and the animal danced around each other. The horse continued to give ground, head swinging from side to side madly before turning, revealing the Cleric’s rifle trained on Breandan.

Two arrows pierced the Cleric’s neck. He flew back  – passing over the horse’s rump, and landed face first in the mud. He was trampled under his own steed. I shuddered when bones cracked and jutted within his skin at misshapen angles. The beast stormed off, reins flapping in the wind.

Maeve – bow in hand – streaked past. A Cleric followed her on foot, and she pivoted, sighted and loosed her arrow to take him down without breaking stride.

Breandan shouted at her, pointed away from the fight in a scolding get-your-ass-out-of-here manner then loped up the path after me.

Daphne, Breandan and I watched as chaos unfurled in the thicket below. 

More Clerics burst into sight, some on mounts, some on foot. The crack of gunshots exploded in erratic bursts.

Lochlann barked orders to his Knights – commanding them with bold gestures and guttural noises. The fairies followed the High Lord’s instructions without question and spread out in formation. Dressed in the jointed armour that Breandan wore; bare-chested with swords, bows, and staves … they attacked.

“Rae?” Breandan asked. I knew what he wanted to know, stay and fight or leave.

“Samuel was convinced the Priests would consider an audience with Lochlann. They wouldn’t order something stupid like this.” Chewing my lip, I glanced around the space. I waved my hands over the scene. “This isn’t all of them.”

“The Knights? Our numbers are small, it has always been that way,” Breandan said. He jerked smoothly to the side as a wayward dagger flew past his head. Simultaneously, all of us took a few more steps back up the path. “We are a people of peace, Rae. A handful a generation is born with the ability to fight. Less with the ability to touch the Source and wield magics.”