She stationed Gawain’s second man not far from the first before leading Gawain up a level. She figured spacing them apart would help cover more of the sky over the Keep.
Soon, all three men were set up with their own Koa, the cacophony of the weapons firing assaulting her ears.
Shea moved between the three, making sure the Koas were still working as they should.
“Shea,” Trenton called, sidling up to her.
“What?” she shouted back. The noise was deafening and she had to strain to hear him.
“What happens when the beasts figure out where we are and come looking for us?” he shouted. Because, they would. They’d have to if only to protect themselves from the weapon.
Shea’s heart dropped and she looked out at the sky. She hadn’t really given any thought to that possibility.
“How is your marksmanship?” Shea asked, her voice tentative. She could probably rummage up a couple of boomers. They were better than nothing.
Trenton dropped his head and cursed. “Stay close.”
“That won’t work,” Shea said. “Not with Gawain’s men spread out the way they are.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Trenton warned.
Shea gave him a maniacal grin. “No choice. It’s the only way. You take these two. I’ll take Gawain.”
“Shea,” he called as she jogged back toward the clan leader.
He must have agreed with her about the necessity because he let her go.
*
Fallon shoved a furred monster off his blade, blinking the sweat out of his eyes as he observed the battlefield around him. It was a dire sight, bringing little comfort.
They were losing. They’d been pushed back off the wall, unable to meet an aerial foe while defending against the one coming from over the wall.
It put them at a disadvantage.
If they didn’t do something to turn the tide and soon, they would be pushed back into the Keep. If that happened, things would get very difficult. They might be able to hold the Keep for a time, the narrow corridors working in their favor, but for how long?
These creatures weren’t just passing through. They were organized and fought with a frightening single-mindedness. They didn’t seem to care how many of them his warriors took down. Three more replaced every beast they killed.
A boomer barked and there was a screech above him as a bat creature fell to the ground. Fallon looked for the shooter, spotting him in a window of the Keep. Patrick’s ice blue eyes met Fallon’s before he reloaded his boomer and turned his focus elsewhere.
He wasn’t the only one. Pathfinders lined the Keep’s windows using its shelter as cover to shoot the bats down without being picked off themselves.
Fallon and his warriors needed to do their part as well.
“To me!” Fallon shouted lifting his sword in the air.
A roar came from the throats of his men as they converged on him, fighting as one, using savage determination to push their foe back.
Fallon felt a fierce thrill ride through him as he grinned into the face of another beast. This was where he was at his best, face to face with death, locked in a battle that could go either way.
He felt cold satisfaction as beasts fell under his blade, one after another. He might pretend to be a better man for Shea’s sake, a man at least halfway civilized, but at his heart he was a cold-blooded killer who lived for the violence of battle.
For much of his life, it had been his mistress, his only love. There was always something else to conquer, another foe to vanquish. He was good at it. So good, he hadn’t realized how bored he’d gotten.
Not until Shea. She’d reminded him of what it felt to feel something other than this lust for death.
Now, he stood in front of some of his fiercest opponents, and he could let loose the demon hiding within.
