“Leave now and we will remain at peace.”
It was really a useless warning. All who’d traveled with Veil had only come to unearth trouble, with the possible exception of Flora and Virtue, who followed him everywhere. But they were gone, along with the ones who didn’t care to risk death. Then again, I couldn’t help but offer, because I really wanted them to just go.
The winter sprite who had been harassing Rider moved to the center of the room and joined another of its kind. They were very dangerous, despite their frail appearance. They were nearly as tall as Ruby, but incredibly thin and pale. Their hair was long, a silvery gray that fell down in waves and complemented their paper-thin silver and white wings. And they had the ability to create shards of ice that pierced like glass and broke like steel.
“We have come for the girl,” the one farthest from me replied.
I knew exactly who she meant, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off them to confirm Ruby’s safety. I trusted my guard. They would protect her. Please, let them protect her.
“She will not leave here,” I pledged.
As if they had been waiting for the challenge, for my denial, the rest of the fey gathered in a very large half-moon behind them. Except for the frost monsters, who still hovered above Rhys yelling, “Mine, mine,” for his staff. I wasn’t sure they were even aware of the impending battle, let alone Veil’s departure. At least they hadn’t tried freezing him yet.
I hated fairies.
“Don’t do this.” I tried again.
The gray fairy on the right raised a slender hand to ready her troops. In typical fey fashion, a small male became overly excited and broke the charge early, heading straight for Ruby. Steed’s sword came up to meet him and sliced though his thin frame from hip to shoulder, crosswise. It was fortunate he’d flown in low, that was rarely the case.
“Idiot,” the second gray fairy muttered.
As the first lowered her hand, Anvil took a knee to steady his shot and threw lightning at the water sprites. He’d been battle-trained to fight the fey. I hoped the rest of my guard knew better than to use much magic. Rhys and Rider moved to cover our backs and Chevelle shifted to my left side. The fey split into approximately three lines, hovering high over our heads, hovering just above us, and at ground level.
It was a brilliant tactic. The largest were on foot, coming at us with magic and weapons. While we were busy chopping them down, the airborne line came at us in formation, while the highest fey took turns swooping in to dive-bomb unexpectedly. Swords flashed, dust flew, wings sang. It was complete and utter chaos.
A robust ginger-skinned male with auburn hair and orange-brown wings came at me with a half sword and I parried, then cut through his chest on the back swing. As he fell, a gorgeous lithe female, who might have passed for an elf if not for the thin cerulean wings, shrieked a battle cry and leapt in a kick at my face. I dodged and spun, knowing better than to grab her, as she turned to face me. Over her shoulder, I could see Rhys, still struggling with dual frost monsters, who now had hold of his staff.
Chevelle had closed ranks behind me, covering the attack. The fairy flung two knives at me, which I dared not dodge for Chevelle’s sake, and spun into another kick. I deflected one of the knives with my sword and held the other with the smallest amount of magic I could release, which happened to be far too much and shattered the blade. The distraction caused me to neglect the kick, and it landed directly over my healing rib. By then I was just pissed.
I punched her square in the nose and brought the knife from my hip up to plant in her chest. When I moved to return to the line, I saw the strangest thing. Standing in the center of a triangle formed by Grey, Steed, and Rider stood a glorious red-headed fury. True and steady, she swung her whip in sharp circles around the lot of them. There was no particular pattern, up and over, around, back, down. Sometimes swirling above them several times before returning to cover the others. Each time a fairy came in for attack, it met with a sword or risked being tangled by whip, which brought the fliers down neatly for a knife to the gut.
It was inspired, as the rest of us were vulnerable to the air strikes. It made me wonder if that was the reason she chose the weapon. And then I inhaled, which made me wonder if Veil had known about my broken rib.