Feyland: The Bright Court

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jennet nocked an arrow to her bow and waited, barely breathing. Were the horses going to trample them to death? Just when she was poised to turn and run, the herd pulled up short.

They were even more frightening, up close. The dark hollows of their eyes were filled with flame, and their flickering hooves looked razor-sharp. The horses stood eerily silent - no milling about, no snorting and whinnying. Then a figure emerged from the middle of the herd, a young man, clad in a silvery robe the same color as the horse’s hides. He had white hair, and eyes black as night.

She blinked. Where had he come from?

“Halt!” he called, his voice deep and resonant. “Who trespasses on the lands of the Bright King? Turn back, turn back, else a reckoning is upon thee.”

“Reckon away,” Tam said, and raised his sword.

Clearly he’d taken Puck’s advice to heart.

“Ah,” the man breathed. A thin, sharp blade appeared in either hand. “Impetuous mortals.”

Tam rushed forward, but the white-haired man danced nimbly away. Biting her lip, Jennet lifted her bow and sighted down the arrow. Drat it. She didn’t have a clear shot. If she missed, she’d hit one of the horses, and that didn’t seem like a good idea. Maybe they’d all transform into enemies with knives. She started circling around, looking for a better angle.

Tam and his opponent clashed blades, parted, then came together again. The sun glinted brightly on his armor, shone on the robes and white hair of the other fighter, until she had to squint against the glare. They seemed evenly matched as fighters - but that wouldn’t be enough for her and Tam to win their way forward.

She finally found a position to shoot from. Now the trick would be avoiding Tam. She lifted her bow again, then lowered it with a growl of frustration. He was too close to his opponent. Her aim was decent now, but not flawless enough to take those kinds of chances.

Maybe an archer/warrior combo in-game wasn’t so great after all. She could use her Kitsune flame powers, but again, that risked injury to Tam.

Tam and the white-haired man fought on, moving almost as if they were dancing. There was a hypnotic beauty to it - the push and parry, spin and turn. Jennet shook herself, pulling her eyes away from the graceful flashing of silver blades under the sun. Time to end this.

“Tam, jump back!” she yelled, keeping her arrow trained on the white-haired guy.

Without looking at her, Tam threw himself backward. Jennet released, and with a zinging noise, her arrow flew true. It hit the enemy’s arm with a meaty thunk, and he let out a cry that sounded almost like a neigh.

Tam sprang forward again and held the edge of his blade to their enemy’s throat. Jennet wasted no time in nocking another arrow to her string.

“Do you yield?” Tam asked.

The man blew his breath out through his nose, nostrils flaring. His fingers were clenched around the shaft of the arrow stuck in his arm. A thin trickle of blood ran down toward his wrist.

“Very well,” he said, his voice tight with pain. “You and the lady have won victory - and further passage.”

Tam gave a single nod and lowered his sword.

Jennet hurried over to the man. He winced as she approached.

“Let me help you,” she said. After all, it was her arrow sticking out of him.

His black eyes considered her. “I did not expect injury. Your aid would be welcome.”

“Hold still.” She grasped the arrow, and, before she could think too hard about it, pulled straight back. The man gasped as the point came free, making blood spurt freely.