Resist

44

Essie’s POV

The battle was raging in the atrium, the sounds of battle echoing of the high ceiling and reverberating around the walls. Shouts of strength being wielded and pain being inflicted filled the air, a terrifying mix that both curdled your blood and pumped your adrenaline. I had fought so many enemies in quick succession that I’d lost count, mindlessly plunging my head into my quiver again and again. Demetria and I had ended up side by side picking off soldiers from afar. More than ever we were needed as more and more fighters took to the skies, Xave and Recovery alike, thinking that being lofted would aid them. 

A soldier swooped in low above Will, trying to take out the young man who at this point seemed to have demised half the Xave himself while wielding his two scimitars. I knew that the enemy had a target on his back after seeing him cut down so many of their own; he was the one to beat if they were to prevail. One after another, I shot off a round of arrows, three in total, intent on not letting the soaring soldier touch my agile comrade. One nicked him across the cheek, his helmet having been lost earlier in the fight. The second sunk into his side between the plates of armor he wore, one of the few with full metal armor (about half of the soldiers had armor and half only wore their leather jerkins). This caused him to tilt and fall from the air, disappearing into the teaming and rolling battle below. The third one then missed, harmlessly flying over the heads of everyone and thumping into the wood of the second floor railing on the far side of the atrium. 

My next target was a sword-wielding Xave who pursued James through the air. James was quicker but his wing was still not one hundred percent after being broken. As I watched, the raven haired man managed to bump himself twice on the wooden rafters, slowing his progress and allowing the soldier to close the distance between them. James was trapped, unable to turn and throw his knives for if he did the soldier would be upon him. I tracked the two through the air, eyeing down the shaft of my nocked arrow, and trying to anticipate how far ahead of the soldier to shoot. If I was too early, I would hit James but if I was too late it would be useless and my arrow would be stuck in the rafters where I did not know if I would be able to retrieve it with any ease. The point of my arrow followed their path around and through the beams for several moments, making sure I was positive before I released the ammunition. 

With a twang of the bow string, the arrow was free. I watched it as if in slow motion as it sailed through the atrium, a slight arc to its progress, and hit the wing of the Xave solder. He didn’t even know what had happened, a look of horror overcoming his face as his left wing began to fail him and he spiraled towards the ground, his other wing flapping in a useless attempt to save himself. The resulting bone-crushing crash left him motionless on the floor 

James sped down, retrieved the arrow from the body, swooped my way, and tossed it to me. “Thanks,” he called as he made a wide half circle around Demetria and I to return to the thick of the battle. I caught the arrow and nocked it again, already taking aim at a soldier on the edge of the fighting. 

It had melded into one heaving mass in the middle of the atrium, the two separate battles of James’s group and Brody’s group from earlier having been pushed together by the onslaught of the soldiers. We had talent on our side but numbers was by far the dominating advantage of the Xave, more arriving each minute and throwing themselves into the fray. 

Brody was whipping around in the middle of the brawl, stabbing left and right with his long weapon and causing bodies to fall but there was always someone to take the place of the dead. The fact that I could see him as he fought in the middle meant he was taller for some reason, and I guessed he was standing atop the body of a soldier in order to have the advantage of height. Will on the other hand was invisible in the fight unless he moved to the edges. I only knew he was still doing okay because of the loud profanities carrying over the din, his loud calls sounding periodically. Andre was slaying soldiers left and right with his broad sword, the weapon making me think of how Jack and how effective he was with his. Brenton was cracking bones with his mace, leaving behind soldiers crumpled to the ground. It was all chaos and gore.