Triumph Reign (The Callistra Chronicles #3)

FIVE

Chapter Five

Khotadi was now joined with a corner of Fusun, pressed against the entirety of Yre and Eo, and skimming along the briefest south-side of Wan. While every section of land which bordered Khotadi was to be loosely guarded in the event of a surprise invasion, it was almost certain that the Unseelie army would approach through the opening in their iron gates—and therefore take a straight path into the centre of Eo.

Pasiphae counted her arrows for the sixteenth time. That was all she had been doing while she paced a distance away from the fire, nervously watching her wall of tall vines wilt under constant battering. Certain sections were toppling, falling the other way into Eo's roaring flames and blackening. It wouldn't be long now. The wall would come down in less than an hour. The fire—the expanse of roaring heat that stretched through what once could have been Pasiphae's five minute walk to school—would hold for perhaps another.

Pasiphae had tried to sleep. What else was there to do on the eve of the largest battle to shake Callistra since the war that had torn apart the world? She had tried—but after hours of tossing and turning, it seemed her efforts were futile.

She had decided to pace instead. Up and down, parallel to the length of the raging fire that burned on while the night sky twinkled above her, eyeing the witches who kept the blaze burning and eyeing the new, incoming witches who would add to their soldiering ranks.

None of the other Divines had bothered coming down to fight. That meant Meira and Pasiphae were in charge.

Pasiphae nocked her arrow, her eyes watering from fatigue. She tested out her aim, ensuring her arrow's path would clear the wall.

"We're going to run out of arrows."

Circe had her two palms out in front of her, tending to her section of the fire as she watched Pasiphae count through the supplies. Somewhere, Ophiua and Nikolaus stood to attention too, playing their part to keep the fire going. There were two groups of witches at the front line: the witches who were the fire-keepers, and the witches who were armed with bows and arrows, acting as Medeis' defence when the wall crumbled and the fire-keepers were forced to flee.

"I know," Pasiphae said. She toed the line that determined the start of no man's land: a decent plot of ground between the fire-keepers and the start of the fire. "There are thousands in Morgana's army. I'd count us lucky if we have exactly a thousand arrows."

"Maybe our aim will be perfect?" Circe suggested.

Pasiphae snorted loudly. With a flourish, she slid her arrow free from the bow string without letting it whip into the distance, twirling the long arrow in and out of her nimble fingers. Further down the rows of fire-keepers, she caught sight of Meira speaking to the witches who had come down from Ruqyah in the late hours of the night, leather-clad and twirling strange crystal weapons in their hands. Every sector had sent what they could. It still wasn't enough.

But it had to be.

"The sun is coming up," Circe remarked. "How long until—" She cut off abruptly, her head cocking in confusion. Pasiphae turned too and found Meira marching toward them. When their grandmother came near enough, she reached out and took Pasiphae by the elbow, walking her away from the front line and toward the makeshift tents.

Circe watched them go with an arched eyebrow.

"We may encounter some problems," Meira said to Pasiphae when they stopped. "The fighters from the other sectors were given their own battle plans."

"Deaths take their own battle plans," Pasiphae responded. "Tell them to drop it. They're following our instructions."

"If we cannot convince them, it is trouble." Meira crossed her arms, sighing deeply. "We may have to consider simply pulling them back."