Hold the left. 

Marai led her small unit to the far side of the sprawling army, feeling as if she were a tiny rowboat lost in an endless sea. Avilyard had sectioned the units into blocks. It was easy to spot the rows of gold armored mounted cavalry—Nevandia’s most skilled knights. Their horses were bedecked in Nevandian colors; the sunburst symbol sewed onto their caparison cloths. The cavalry had been relegated to the outer edges, surrounding the infantry, except for a small grouping in the center. Marai’s chest tightened. Ruenen was in that grouping.

Infantry surrounded the mounted knights. They gripped lances, javelins, swords, and shields, while the archers were dispersed in clumps amongst them. The most experienced soldiers were spread across the front lines, forming the shield wall. Green and gold shields overlapped, edge-to-edge, across the infantry ranks, back and back until the final row.

Sunburst flags billowed in the breeze as the army marched onwards, leaving the camp behind. They marched towards the dirt road cleaving the Red Lands in two. The only sound was the stomping of the marching army, moving as one. No one spoke. All their concentration was focused on the battle before them.

Across the moor, black shapes gathered through the thick fog, like a massive flock of crows. Rows and rows of infantry soldiers, a tight, long line of black shields stretching across the horizon. Marai couldn’t see where the far right side ended.

Rayghast’s army was assembled.

Nevandia stood ready for its finale.

As the enemy neared, Marai spotted details amongst the black cloud of soldiers: their crossed-sword emblem pins, red feather plumes in their commander’s helmets, their painted shields. They were in range now for the archers.

The air fluctuated and flexed as Keshel’s shield snapped into place around the entire Nevandian army. The scent of decadent wine, leather, and old parchment wafted through the fog; the distinctive scent of Keshel’s magic. Marai reached out her power and gently pushed against his barrier, sensing its oscillating boundaries. Next to her, Keshel shivered and sucked in a deep breath as her magic skimmed across his.

The shield stretched farther and farther, all the way to the far right side of the Nevandian army where Commander Avilyard sat on his horse, bellowing orders. No one besides the fae, weres, and Nosficio had registered the appearance of Keshel’s shield. Marai didn’t know how long Keshel’s magic would last, being stretched so far.

The heavy beat of war drums reverberated through the ground at Marai’s feet. The sound echoed in the cavities of her chest, instilling a strength and steadiness there. Horns blazed again.

One lone golden figure on the back of a white horse broke the ranks in the center of the Nevandian army.

Marai watched the figure raise his sword. She couldn’t hear the words he shouted. So instead, she imagined him up on a stage, singing; deft fingers strumming on his lute.

He’ll write a song about this day.

It began from the center of the army. A mighty roar rippled through the ranks. Marai’s lips reared back and she echoed the courageous sound, thrusting Dimtoir into the air.

Tacorn and Varana unleashed a volley of arrows. Shooting stars in the daytime sky, they arched through the air and collided with Keshel’s shield. Nevandians flinched, raising shields over their heads to protect themselves, but they watched, aghast, as the arrows bounced off the invisible barrier and fell to the ground.

Then Nevandia returned fire. Keshel allowed anything on his side to travel through freely. Raife and Leif pulled back on the string of their longbows. Arrows whizzed through the air. Raife’s arrow expertly cleaved through space, finding its mark in the neck of a Tacornian, where the armor was weakest. The arrow penetrated deep.

Another volley of flaming arrows from Tacorn ricocheted off the shield. Then another from the Nevandians.

A third from Tacorn, but this time, the arrows came with rocks.

Tacorn had brought their trebuchets.

As each rock collided with Keshel’s shields, the barrier flickered. The area of impact burst with color and light, but didn’t crack. At Marai’s side, standing with his arms spread high and wide, Keshel winced with each strike of stone.

The barrage became more persistent throughout the hour. More rocks, more arrows. The sun climbed higher, shrouded by thick clouds. The fog lifted, granting a clear view of the black wall of Tacorn. To the left, facing down Marai’s unit, were the blue-armored Varanese. Their cobalt and white flags billowed in the breeze. A water dragon was their symbol, and their blue armor was scaled like the mythical creatures with a line of spikes across their spines.

Giant rocks, pieces of highland boulders, crashed against the shield. Keshel swayed. His barrier spasmed in a sea of iridescent color, but he didn’t lower his arms. Raife grabbed hold of him, dropping his bow to keep Keshel on his feet.

“Time to shrink the barrier,” Raife said. Keshel nodded, gritting his teeth.

Like a retreating tide, the shield withdrew from the right flank. Avilyard’s side was entirely exposed now. Then slowly, the shield peeled away from the center.

Ruenen, on his white stallion, must’ve noticed the magic receding as Tacornian arrows finally hit their marks. He shouted something and men raised their weapons. They began to run; Ruenen’s horse leading the charge. Horns sounded. Then the right side followed and Avilyard galloped onwards. Next to Marai, Tarik and the werewolves shouted words of encouragement to the Nevandians.

Tacorn forces charged to meet them. Marai cringed as the black and golden walls collided. The sound of clattering, clashing metal would live in Marai’s ears forever, along with their immediate screams. Heads and arms were lopped off. The sight was gruesome, even to Marai who was used to such carnage.

Leif shut his eyes. He covered his pointed ears with his hands, and dropped to the ground in a squat. His labored breath heaved his whole upper body.

“You have to see in order to fight,” Marai said, kneeling next to him.

Leif shook his head, squeezing his eyes tighter. “I still see them . . . my parents and sister. All I can hear are their screams.”

Marai placed her hands on his arm. I wish I could spare him from this. But Marai was a unit commander now. She couldn’t let any of her troops break.

“You are vengeance, Leif. A warrior. Unleash your anger upon Rayghast. Do it for your family. Remember what you’re fighting for.”

Leif met her unyielding stare. “How do you do it, Marai? How do you see these things and keep going?”

For a moment, Marai couldn’t speak. She didn’t know the answer. But Leif’s eyes swum with questions and pleadings and fear.

“Defeat is not in my blood,” she said, as magic and courage swirled around in her chest, “nor is it in yours. We will not be conquered.” Marai allowed her lips to curl into a vicious grin. “I’m a nightmare.”

Leif’s emerald eyes widened, then his face hardened as he said, “Let’s make Rayghast rue the day he killed our people.”

Marai lifted Leif to his feet.

He arched an eyebrow. “My Queen.”

For the first time ever, they shared a smile.

The Varanese charged forward now, too, but Keshel’s shield remained in place around the left side of the Nevandian forces. Varanese smashed their weapons upon the shield, but couldn’t penetrate it. Weapons broke and shattered against the forcefield.

Marai hadn’t realized she’d walked to the edge of Keshel’s barrier. She hadn’t noticed her feet guiding her towards Ruenen. She watched him cut down a Tacornian soldier, but she was trapped within the glass box of duty.

Hold the left. 

“You’ve done enough, Keshel,” came Thora’s pleading voice, making Marai turn. “Drop the shield.”

Keshel knelt on the ground, dripping with sweat, panting as he continued to hold up his arms. His entire body shook from the effort, as if the pressure was pinning him down to the ground. Keshel shook his head viciously, face scrunched up in concentration. Marai sensed he still had power. His well wasn’t empty yet.

Then the earth rumbled.

Chapter 25

Rayghast

He’d expected the Butcher. He knew the faerie would join her beloved prince on the battlefield.

But Rayghast hadn’t anticipated others.

Tacorn’s arrows and trebuchets couldn’t penetrate the invisible shield. His army couldn’t move forward. Nothing but magic could have created such a strong barrier. It was almost impossible to believe that Nevandia had employed other fae. A kingdom seeped in deep prejudice, not unlike Tacorn, gladly accepted the help of magical folk?