With the soldiers’ arrows rising toward her, she couldn’t slow to take careful aim so she released her arrow too soon, missing again. Magda cast another spell, an orb of light growing in brightness as it streaked through the air, but rather than hit the witch, it stopped a dozen feet above her head, freezing in place, and then beginning to get brighter. The Sin’Rath snarled a curse, shielding her eyes from the light with one hand while pulling a human skull from her bag with the other. She began to shake the skull like a rattle. Even with the wind roaring in her ears, Abigail could hear a clatter of bone on bone.
Amelia formed up on Abigail and Magda for another pass, but before they could get lined up, the witch threw the skull to the ground, shattering it into pieces and releasing a darkness that seemed to seep out of the remnants of the bones, forming into a dozen distinct shadows, each with wing and claw and fang. From her vantage point, it was difficult for Abigail to make out exactly what they were, but she could see at a glance that they were not of this world.
The creatures rose into the air with a howl, their wings black as night, yet not entirely solid, their eyes glowing red with malice and hate, their open maws lined with needle-sharp teeth. Several went to the light floating over the Sin’Rath, swarming it and extinguishing it even as it burned them from existence, plunging the world back into dusk.
The rest flew toward Abigail and Kallistos. She sent an arrow at the nearest, finally scoring a hit. It dissipated like smoke on a breeze. She dropped her bow into its sheath and drew the Thinblade, coaxing Kallistos to gain altitude … but it wasn’t enough to evade them. The creatures were closing fast. Another vanished in a flash of light, then another as both Magda and Amelia fired light-lance spells. Then the five that remained were on Abigail, tearing at her steed’s wings and clawing at his flesh.
She lashed out at the nearest, her sword passing through it like it wasn’t even there, yet the creature vanished a moment later. Kallistos roared, snapping at another clamped onto his wing. Abigail watched it fade away like he’d bitten down on a puff of smoke.
Another hit her from behind, coldness seeping into her bones, claws digging into her shoulders. Before it could bite, she thrust back with the Thinblade and it vanished in a cloud of noxious smoke. One whiff sent her into a fit of coughing and gagging.
With a snap of his tail, Kallistos killed one clawing at his belly. The final creature shrieked one last time before vanishing on its own, why Abigail didn’t know or care … Kallistos was injured, a series of tears in both wings sending him toward the ground. She composed herself and guided him into a shallow dive that wasn’t nearly shallow enough. He was going in too fast, heading for a hard landing.
Magda’s wyvern quickly moved overhead, extending his talons. Abigail had only trained on the maneuver once, but she knew what to do. She grabbed Taharial’s left talon and pulled it into her saddle strap, then slapped the top of his foot. He gripped the strap, taking care not to injure Kallistos any more than he already was. When the second talon was locked in place, Magda guided them into a landing that brought them down near Jillian and her dying wyvern.
The impact was jarring, but they landed without causing Kallistos any more harm. Magda released at the last moment, gaining altitude while Amelia floated overhead providing cover, even though there was no need. The Sin’Rath and Torin were gone into the woods, lost in the night.
Abigail slipped out of her saddle, soothing Kallistos and inspecting his injuries, sickness growing in her stomach. He was in no danger of dying, but his wings were injured severely enough that he would need time to heal, even with the aid of magic.
After patting him on the jaw and offering a few soothing words, she went to Jillian, warily watching the shadows in the forest for any sign of the enemy.
“I’m so sorry,” Abigail said.
Jillian was sitting next to her steed’s head with a hand laid tenderly on his snout. Tears flowed freely down her face, but the look in her eyes was one of murder and vengeance more than sadness and loss.
“He was a good steed. I’ll miss him,” she said, dashing the tears from her face. “How’s Kallistos?”
“He’ll live but he won’t be flying anytime soon.”
Jillian nodded, seeming to come to her senses, remembering that they were still in potential danger, even though the enemy had fled.
Amelia continued circling overhead while Magda landed nearby. She came to Jillian without a word and took her into her arms, letting the younger witch cry while she held her.
Abigail’s emotions roiled within her. She was sad for Jillian, worried about Kallistos, and furious at the Sin’Rath. And behind it all was a crushing sense of duty, an obligation to press on, give chase, rescue the Prince of Fellenden from a kind of slavery that was so complete it made her skin crawl-and do so before he could be used to release a darkness like nothing the world had ever seen before.
Kallistos was licking his wounds, one wing splayed out, still too tender to be folded against his body.
“We have to move,” Abigail said, looking sadly at her wyvern.
“I know,” Magda said, separating herself from Jillian.
The younger witch nodded tightly, a lock of sandy-blond hair falling into her face. She brushed it back, wiping away fresh tears. “I’ll tend to Kallistos as best I can, then I’ll walk him back to the city,” she said.
“Amelia will stay with you while Magda and I go find that witch,” Abigail said.
Another tear slipped from Jillian’s eye. “When you find her, if you can make it painful, I’d appreciate it.”
Abigail hugged her without a word.
Within minutes, she’d transferred her pack and weapons to Taharial and they were in the air, following the road by moonlight. Abigail knew they would be able to easily overtake the enemy in the air, but it would be nearly impossible to find them under cover of darkness, especially if they were traveling in the forest, so she opted to get in front of them.
Not an hour after lifting off, they came to a village at the intersection of the road and a fast-moving river full to the banks with snowmelt. The place looked like the home of five hundred souls, but more importantly, there was a bridge-a choke point. Abigail tapped Magda on the shoulder and she nodded, banking away from the village toward a rocky knoll in the forest about a mile from town. After a silent pass, Magda landed her steed gently on the secluded hill.
The half-moon was enough to see by, but just barely. Abigail moved slowly and cautiously through the woods, one hand out in front of her face to avoid branches that might blind her. Magda offered light, but Abigail didn’t want to alert the enemy of their presence. Surprise was a prerequisite for an effective ambush. She smiled, remembering a lesson from so long ago, a lesson she’d tried to sneak into just to be with her brothers. Anatoly had caught her … then told her she could stay, but only if she paid attention. She did.
They reached the outskirts of town within half an hour, certainly well before the Sin’Rath and Torin could have arrived, even at a gallop. The streets were mostly empty, the windows of nearly every building were glowing, and the chimneys were sending streamers of smoke into the sky. Moving quietly to avoid contact, they made their way to the bridge in the center of town.
It was a simple structure built of stout timbers lashed with rope and was just wide enough for a wagon. The river roared beneath, swollen with icy water. Abigail and Magda waited in the shadows of an alley between two nearby houses.
After they’d waited for several hours and not a single soul had crossed the bridge, Abigail whispered, “They should’ve been here by now.”
“I know. I suspect they’ve stopped for the night,” Magda said.