“Leave you to fight alone?”
“No. Get me help.”
The witch leader lifted her hand, palm up, middle and forefinger out.
Izzy waited for her to unleash a spell with that hand, but all she did was swipe her fingers to the left. The collars on the men were jerked by the females who held them and the metal unlocked and dropped. Unleashed, the men howled in their madness and charged.
“Izzy, go! ” Annwyl screamed, lifting one of her blades.
And, as her commander ordered, Izzy shot off toward home.
“Are you going to keep pacing?” Dagmar asked Talaith. “You’re making me dizzy.”
“How can you be so calm?”
Busy writing a list, Dagmar replied, “I choose not to fret. Fretting doesn’t help.”
“She doesn’t understand, you know.” And Dagmar slowly raised her head to look across the table at the god who sat there, her feet brazenly resting on the wood. Her arm had grown back. “Not everyone’s like you.”
“Why are you here?”
The war goddess pouted. “That’s not very welcoming.”
“Who are you talking to?” Talaith asked.
Dagmar sighed. “A god.”
And that’s when Talaith threw up her hands and shouted, “Well, that’s not good!”
“Do you really think her brothers will allow you to get away with this?” Elder Siarl asked.
“I’ll talk to Morfyd. She’ll understand. And I’ll deal with any repercussions.”
“Then why have you even bothered to summon us?”
“I will present what I have found to the Council, and you will judge her accordingly. Then punishment will commence.”
“Punishment? In the salt mines?”
“For betraying our queen.”
“I don’t like it,” Elder Teithi argued.
“It’s for the best.”
“No, cousin,” Keita finally managed to say. “It’s for your ego.” She dragged herself to her claws. It wasn’t easy. She hurt everywhere.
“What I do, I do for my queen.”
“What you do,” Keita snarled back, “you do for yourself. Don’t blame the queen for you being such a self-righteous cunt.” The fist slammed into the side of Keita’s snout, sending her crashing to the ground.
“Elestren! Stop this!”
“Perhaps the snobby slit would like to challenge me.” Elestren kicked her, sending Keita’s dragon body flipping up and over. “Come on, princess!
Pick up a sword and fight me! Prove your innocence by killing your challenger.”
“Elestren, I’m telling you right now to stop this!” Elder Siarl ordered.
“I’m giving her a chance to walk away from this.” Elestren unsheathed her sword, flipped it so that she held it by the blade. “Take it, princess. Prove me wrong. Let the gods decide our fate.” Coughing, Keita slowly pushed her body up. When she saw her cousin’s body relax, Keita picked up a handful of dirt and flung it at Elestren’s still-useful eye.
Dropping the sword, Elestren backed up, screeching as she tried to wipe out the dirt. Keita scrambled up, put her front claws together, talons interlocking, and swung at Elestren’s face. She hit her hard, Elestren’s entire head jerking to one side. But she was still standing and, it seemed, relatively unfazed by the hit that had Keita’s claws throbbing.
Slowly, Elestren faced Keita.
“Oh…shit,” Keita muttered seconds before her cousin swung her own fist, sending Keita flying back and into the cave wall. She hit it hard and then hit the ground a little harder.
“Elestren! No!”
But her cousin ignored Elder Siarl’s demand, grabbing hold of Keita by her hair and flipping her over. She slammed her knee down on Keita’s chest and raised the sword she retrieved over Keita’s head.
“Sorry, cousin,” she said, although they both knew she didn’t mean it.
The screaming men charged forward, and Annwyl readied her weapon, pulling it up so the handle was by her shoulder and the blade a little lower. When the first few were close enough, she swung the blade in an arc.
She cut several in half, took the arms of others. A handful shot by her and went after Izzy. Although she wanted to follow, to protect her niece, she knew she had to let Izzy prove her worth. She couldn’t and wouldn’t turn away from this fight. Not when she’d been dreaming about it for so long now.
This had been what she’d been waiting for, and Annwyl had no intention of walking away.
More men charged her, and Annwyl went to work.
Izzy jumped over tree stumps and dashed around boulders. She could hear the men coming up behind her, slavering for her blood. Begging for it.
She didn’t turn around; she didn’t look at them. She couldn’t afford to. The forest could be tricky. And although she was armed, she couldn’t stand and fight now. Not when Annwyl needed help. Not when those protecting the twins—and, more importantly, her sister—needed to be warned.
Keita brought her claws up, hoping to somehow block the blade before it entered her chest, but a flash of light had her gasping and Elestren yelping and stumbling away from her. Keita turned over and watched with her mouth open as Morfyd landed in front of her.
Elestren blinked in confusion. “Morfyd?”
“You bitch.” Morfyd raised her claws and unleashed bright white flames that sent Elestren flying back. “My sister! ” Morfyd bellowed, advancing on Elestren. “ You do this to my sister! ” Elestren got to her feet, snarling. “You’d protect this lying, betraying bitch?”
“She’s my sister!”
Elestren raised her blade to attack, and Morfyd opened her mouth and unleashed a line of flame that snaked across the cavern, wrapped around the blade, and yanked it from Elestren’s stunned grasp.
Those who’d been with Elestren ran for the exit, but they met Briec and Gwenvael, who didn’t seem to be in any mood to let them leave.
Elestren held her claws up. A sign of surrender. A move rarely made by a Cadwaladr, but one that clearly signaled the fight was over.
Ragnar landed beside Keita, dropping to one knee.
“Gods, Keita.”
“Help me up.”
She held up her claw, and he took it. Fearghus landed on the other side of her and grabbed her other claw. Together they helped her stand.
Keita watched as Morfyd raised her claw and chanted, pulling her talons in until she made a fist. Elestren went down screaming as if something inside her was being torn apart.
Éibhear grabbed Morfyd’s shoulders, tried to pull her back, to stop her. But with a flick of her wrist, she sent their oversized baby brother spinning across the cavern, Ragnar and Fearghus quickly pulling Keita out of the way.
Talaith looked away from Dagmar and the god she couldn’t see. It felt like her chest was being squeezed, and the last time she’d felt that, her Izzy had been in trouble. She moved from the table, her gaze shooting up to the top of the hallway stairs. The centaur stood there, watching her, Ebba’s serene, but direct expression telling Talaith all she needed to know.
She was up on the long table and over it in seconds, running out the Great Hall front doors.
Talaith saw the two Lightnings coming from around the building.
“Vigholf!” she yelled. “Meinhard!”
They both stopped and watched her dash by and out the side exit. She was near the forest that would take her into the west field.
“Mum!”
She saw her daughter running toward her—saw what was behind her.
Nearly on her. Men that were no longer men. And that meant only one thing.
Kyvich.
“Don’t stop!” Talaith yelled at her. “Go!”
Mother and daughter charged past each other, Talaith pulling out the blade she always kept tied to her thigh. She cut the throat of one mad bastard, leaped onto a nearby boulder, and shoved off with one foot, slashing her blade across the throat of another. When she landed on the ground, she kept running, trusting her daughter could take care of herself.
Izzy did as her mother ordered and kept running. She ran until she cleared the trees, and that’s when the first one slammed into her from behind, flipping them both over.
He caught her by the hair, yanking her head to the side and wrapping his mouth around the side of her neck. Teeth dug in and bit down. She screamed out, her hand reaching for the blade she kept tucked into her boot.
She had her fingers on the handle when the man was pulled away from her, his brains dashed when a Lightning in human form slammed him to the ground.
Izzy released her knife and got to her feet.
“Izzy!” She looked up as Meinhard tossed an ax to her. She caught it, spun, and hacked through the crazed male closest to her. She stopped, swung the blade up, and tore through another from his bowels to his neck. Then she hefted the ax and ran back into the forest.
She saw her cousin and screamed, “Get the kin. Get them all!
Meinhard! Vigholf! Follow me!”
Morfyd crouched in front of the keening warrior at her feet. “Did you really think you’d get away with this?” she asked. “Did you really think I’d let you do this to my sister?”
She heard someone calling to her, someone yelling at her to stop, but she couldn’t. Not after seeing what Elestren had done to Keita. How she’d hurt her. How she’d been moments from killing her.
“Tell me, cousin, what does it feel like?” she asked in a whisper.
“What does it feel like when I turn the blood in your veins to shards of glass?” Morfyd squeezed her fist, making the shards inside her cousin bigger. “Does it make you want to scream? The way you tried to make my sister scream?” She caught Elestren’s green hair and yanked her head up, bellowing in her face, “Does it hurt? ” She watched the human queen tear through enemy men that her sisters, trained in the art, had broken and tormented until they became nothing more than attack beasts. The loyal dog at her side, however, was her companion and partner. She protected him as she protected herself and her horse. But these men were of no concern to her and allowed her to wear down the Blood Queen of Dark Plains.
A head flipped past, and Storm picked it up in his fangs, shaking it before offering it to her horse, Death-bringer, so they could play tug. They loved playing tug together.
“Ásta,” her second command, Bryndís, called to her. “A Nolwenn.” Surprised, because they’d had no warning, Ásta watched the Nolwenn witch charge into the field. She had a blade and nothing else.
Ásta growled a little, Death-bringer pawing the ground restlessly beneath her.
“Hulda,” Ásta said softly. “Kill it.”
Hulda grinned and tightened her legs, her horse knowing exactly what to do.
Nolwenns were the bane of the Kyvich. The why of that fact had been lost to memory a millennia ago, but the hatred remained.
The queen had nearly finished with the males, an outcome Ásta cared little about.
“Unleash the second wave,” she said, her voice never going above a very soft call.
Bryndís lifted her arm. “Second wave!” she cried out. “Forward!” Kyvich who had not yet earned their seats screamed and charged forward on foot, their weapons at the ready.