26
The Elven Commanders raise their hands in unison, deadly green light extending between them to form a death spell. They focus on the Outlier gargoyles, rather than on me. They must intend to blast through the gargoyles, make an opening, and create a quick path through our defenses. Their only target is the deep springs and they want to get there as fast as possible.
We won’t let that happen.
We’re ready.
My left arm shoots up and out—the signal that Talia and Elise are waiting for. They immediately let loose their magic, their arms splayed out, deep magic and spellcasting pouring from their bodies, mingling and combining the strongest elements of both. A glistening shield shoots up all along the border in line with their position at the back of the cliff. The shield extends all the way to the ground, all the way up into the clouds, and thousands of feet left and right. Because of where they are positioned, those of us on this side of the shield can fight the airborne elves, while the remainder of the gargoyle army is protected behind the shield—including the ground forces.
Now the elves won’t be able to proceed through the ravines. Not until Grayson figures out how to bring the shield down. He’s the only one powerful enough to do it and it’s going to take him a while because Talia and Elise have deliberately created layers of spells on top of deep magic, weaving a complicated magical web for him to untangle.
The Elven Commanders shout to each other as soon as the shield springs up. They lower their hands and allow their death spell to fizzle out, right before they urge their griffins to turn around and retreat. Priscilla hesitates, glaring across the distance at me. She wants to fight. I can sense it. But a heart beat later, she turns around, taking up position with the others much further in the distance.
“Cowards!” They know their power isn’t strong enough to get through the shield and they’ll have to fight Baelen and me if they stick around. They’re going to let others fight their battle for them while they wait in safety for their next opportunity to get past us.
The elves who sail up to take their place are all too familiar to me. These elves are not from a minor House.
Rhydian Valor smirks at me from twenty feet away, drawing the reins on his winged stallion so tight that the poor creature’s neck is strained. Rhydian Valor was at the heart of the attack on me in the arena during the marriage trials. He tried to take my storm power by force. I’ve never had good experiences with the House of Valor but Rhydian’s behavior took the cake. While Rhydian molested me, the other males had fought dirty to keep Baelen from intervening. One glance at Baelen tells me he has a score to settle with Rhydian.
Baelen’s growl could be straight from a gargoyle’s throat. “With all due respect, Marbella, Rhydian Valor is mine.”
“I won’t get in your way.” I focus on the rider beside Rhydian. Another Valor male. In fact, there are many of them. They must not have any idea what they’re facing if they volunteered for this part of the battle.
That’s okay. I’m used to males underestimating me.
Baelen’s muscles bunch.
My heart rate increases.
Together, we run to the edge of the cliff and leap from it, our swords raised, lightning licking the air, flying straight at the elves.
A thousand Outlier gargoyles follow us, razor-sharp wings spread for maximum impact. They will try to spare the stallions and eagles if they can, aiming for the riders instead.
Baelen slams into Rhydian, lifting him bodily off his stallion, one big hand around his throat, holding him mid-air as the stallion bucks in terror and tries to escape. As soon as Rhydian’s legs leave the saddle, the stallion escapes while Rhydian kicks the air.
Baelen says, “You were a fool to come here, Rhydian.”
Rhydian snarls. A glint of steel is the only warning before he thrusts a dagger toward Baelen’s ribs. I quell a split second of fear. Baelen has the storm power but he isn’t invincible…
Before the dagger even nears him, Baelen punches Rhydian straight in the heart with a blast of lightning. It’s fast and brutal. Then he drops Rhydian’s lifeless body into the masses of watching elves below.
An Outlier zooms past me, cutting a nearby elf from his seat as I hit my target. His sword is raised and he kicks his stallion to make it turn and dodge me while slicing across the air at my neck. But it’s hard to dodge my power. I duck and a single brush of my hand on his skin is all it takes for my destruction to shriek through him. I grab the back of his armor as I fly upward, wrenching him away from his ride so the death stroke doesn’t kill the innocent horse too. The elf crumbles into dust in my hands.
My body fills with lightning as I snatch up a dagger and fling it, electrified, straight into the next elf’s chest. Another elf screams as Senturi rips him from his ride and there’s a crash as Baelen slams two elves into each other, breaking both their necks. Their deaths are savage, but quick.
My concern now is Priscilla. I knew she couldn’t stay out of the fight. She soars past me, close enough to get my attention, but far enough that I can’t get to her quickly—not with the other elves and gargoyles in my path. Her target is my Storm Command. As usual, she wants to strike where it will hurt me most. On the rocky precipice, my ladies brace, swords and shields ready while Jasper and Sebastian take up battle stances beside them, shields raised. They can’t fly up to meet her. All they can do is brace for the impact. An emerald death bolt grows in her hands as her eagle soars toward them. She wants to take them out in one blow. I’m seconds behind her. Close. But too far to get in between them. I can’t throw my destructive power across the distance or I could hit my friends…
I scream, using my storm power instead to churn the air around her, upsetting the eagle so it wobbles and tips but she stays on.
Damn! No!
She’s only a breath away from releasing her power when Senturi soars out of nowhere, razor-sharp wings glinting in the early sun. Priscilla jolts and aims the death blow at him instead. My heart leaps into my throat but he darts to the right, spreads his wings to full capacity, avoids the death blow, and flies right at the eagle.
I feel a moment of pity for the bird…
Priscilla screams as Senturi’s wings cut right through the animal, barely missing her legs. She launches herself off the dying creature and lands on the cliff top in the middle of my waiting Storm Command. My ladies are ready, ducking and spinning, fighting with grace and heart as Priscilla tries to kill them with her power.
She really should have learned how to use a sword.
