Warrior of the Moon

30

Hundreds had died before the Wolves finally started to lose.

It was the Fae on the other side that had caused most of the problem. Somehow they had managed to gather at the back of the Infernal grouping so that the Wolves had to fight through all of the others before going up against the hardest ones. There were a couple that really knew how to use that magic of theirs, too. Tarin wished they had been a part of the first fight he fought today, when the Wolves were all at full power.

Isaiah remained behind the rest of them, waiting to see if he could catch anyone that slipped through their lines. Birches and Dallin began to fade first, as he had supposed that they would. They were not as accustomed to prolonged one-on-one combat as the other three were, and as they began to tire, they sent their magic out to buy them more time in the fight. Tarin ordered the twins to step up beside him to attempt to take on the brunt of the wave of enemies and send less Birches' and Dallin's way.

Too many people to protect, was a thought that went through his mind constantly. And not enough people to protect them.

They all kept fighting, of course. His magic brought people down all around him, his swords killing even more. He was not sure how Isaiah was faring; probably not well, but there was nothing he could do about it at this point. The twins moved like lightning at his sides, their kills spraying across his clothes, his skin; Birches and Dallin continued protecting their flank. But they were one small force in a sea of enemies, no matter how good their force was. And as Birches and Dallin depleted themselves of both physical and magical energy, he and the twins were riding the last vestiges of their own.

In between one Infernal and the next, he found himself remembering this same scenario from eleven years ago. Him against impossible odds, protecting something he could not let the Infernals have.

He failed that time.

No sooner had he had the thought than he felt a piercing pain in his leg. He gasped more with surprise than pain at the slice the sword had made through his trousers, the blood seeping out of his thigh to stain the fabric. It did not feel particularly deep, but the sheer novelty of being struck shocked him for long enough for the Infernal he was facing to slam the pommel of his sword into his nose. Tarin tasted more blood as he stumbled backwards.

That was when the tide turned. He could not see what was happening behind him; maybe the Wolves had turned to see what was happening with him, or maybe they had recklessly tried to protect him. He knew they were weakened, too. The twins had been sending out wave after wave of their magic, had been taking control of all the Infernals they could throughout the fight, but that kind of magic was not inexhaustible. The heavens gifted them magic, but if one took more than the heavens wanted them to hold, they were disrespecting them. It was something only the worst, like Celestine, would ever dare to do.

Tarin dared a glance backwards and saw Vice thrash desperately against a group of Infernals who were attempting to hold her, her sword gone from her hand. Birches was on the ground, unmoving. Isaiah was held up against an Infernal who was pressing the blade of a knife to his throat. Vex was on her knees, with an Infernal holding her arms together behind her back. Dallin was being held up against a tree, and from the look of it, if the Infernals were not holding him there, he would be collapsed on the ground. If the nymphs had assisted them in any way, it was behind the scenes. There might not have been any nymphs in this section of the forest anyway, which would not surprise him with the number of Infernals who had taken up residence nearby.

His comrades had fallen, and Tarin was out of power. Even if he had the energy left in him to go on, there were just too many opponents. He had a limit, and he had reached it.