Page 167
Story: Night Meets the Elf Queen
From over his shoulder he said, “I made a deal to give youthatsword. I never used the name Soulender, did I?” He kicked Starborn into a gallop. Hooves pounded, wind whistling in his ears.
“ATTACK!” Pricilla bellowed. “Stop him before he becomes immortal! Stop him!”
Foot soldiers poured out from the gate, dragons lifted from the turrets, and arrows cut through the air. Hel shielded him and his mount with magic, arrows bounced off, thudding into the ground around him.
The earth began to shake. Minotaurs, trolls and giants, men and shifters thundered after him. Some of their weapons were larger than his horse.
A dragon swooped down at him, talons wide and ready to snap him in half. He jerked Starborn right and the dragon grabbed nothing but dirt.
“He cannot open the crystal! He will be more powerful than all of us!” Pricilla and Alehelm came up on either side of him. Their hippogriffs hovered just off the ground and snapped at Starborn. He screeched and bit back.
A pair of golden cuffs were in Pricilla’s grasp, and just like katagas serum, they bound magic. It was what she’d used onhim once before, the day he was captured. She’d used his want for Valeen against him, and said they had Valeen captured and that she wanted to talk to him. They did in fact have her at that time, but what he didn’t know was that she planned to execute them all. He’d made the mistake of turning his back on Pricilla, where she slapped a cuff on him before he was taken down by her guards.
Now would be a good time for you to show up, Thane!he thought.
“To the woods!” Hel roared. Mathekis repeated and the pale ones turned and ran. It would look like a retreat. It wasn’t.
Gritting his teeth, he flicked his wrist toward Pricilla and her mount’s neck snapped. She went down hard. She hit the ground and rolled over and over. A sword whooshed over Hel’s head. “Being god of the grapes doesn’t make you well suited for a fight against the god of magic, you fucking prick.” With another flick of his wrist, Alehelm was hit with a blast of sparking, crackling crimson energy that knocked him off. Without his rider, the hippogriff stopped and flew in the opposite direction.
Hel and Starborn raced to the edge of the woods before his army then he jerked the reins left, turning them. “Hold!”
Pricilla’s army crashed toward them like a tidal wave coming to sweep away all in its path, thousands deep. More kept pouring out of the gates. Dragons flew in diamond formations of four, darkening the sky.
Hel’s pulse pounded in his ears, his breath came slow and steady. He would not die this day. Not when he finally had what he wanted, his wife and his immortality. He took the silvery glowing crystal from inside his tunic and held it in his palm. Pain suddenly ripped through his hand. An arrow stuck through the center of his palm, and he dropped the crystal. “FUCK!” He snapped the back end of the arrow off and jerked it from his flesh.
Feet. Mere feet stood between them and the enemy. “Now! Kill them all! Feast on their blood, tear out their hearts!”
The pale ones surged around him like water over rock. Howls and battle cries ringing in his ears. They did not fear death. They only thought of doing what he commanded, and the collision was magnificent.
As they were once elves, the pale ones had elven swiftness and agility. Several of them ran up the trees and leapt onto the giants’ backs. They cut into the trolls’ legs, buckling them and stabbing wildly as they hit the ground. Blood poured from their lips as they tore into minotaurs and men. They would soon see if this curse would infect more than just elves.
But pale ones fell like any mortal. Clubs sent them flying. Spears impaled them to trees. Their bones crunched and their heads hit the ground. Through the breaks in the trees Hel spotted the dragons circling above. They’d either have to burn this forest down or change forms.
A group of half-shifted dragons hit the ground and charged straight through the battle lines for him. Hel dropped from Starborn, pulled his sword and thrust out his palm. Dragon scales didn’t have many weaknesses, and they were nearly impervious to magic, but his percussion blast knocked them back. Pounding feet caught his ear, he whirled as a wildcat’s cry pierced the air and shoved his sword into the chest of a feline shifter. And that was when he lost all sight of reason and let his training and instinct take over. His sword met flesh, his magic burned and maimed. Every time he paused to try to take out his immortality, another attack came; arrows, or dragon’s fire, or an axe.
Hot blood splattered across his face. He slashed and hacked, sent hallucinations to the minds of his enemies so they would turn on each other or run. If he didn’t stop this charge here, they would march straight through the portal to Palenor. To his wife.
Bodies piled up all around. The pale ones’ numbers fell like leaves in autumn. Rain pounded the earth, making the ground muddy and slick. Screams and cries of agony filled his mind. The rain drenched his hair, blood ran into his eyes.
Mathekis cried, “We must retreat, Lord!”
“No! Keep fighting!”
A giant rumbled out from behind a tree and with an upward swing, his huge club hit Mathekis and sent him crashing into a tree. He struggled to rise. In a puff of smoke, Hel appeared in front of Mathekis and slashed the belly of the giant, spilling his insides. With a roar, he stumbled back and hit the ground with a earth-shakingboom.
“Now get up!” Hel jerked him to his feet. “Fight, Mathekis or there will be no one left.”
“Save yourself, Lord. Go back to Palenor and live to fight another day.”
“We are not losing this battle. I will not lose!”
“It is already lost!” Mathekis gripped the edges of Hel’s chest armor and shook him. The screeches of Hel’s dying army emphasized his words. “There are too many of them, even for you.”
Alehelm, Pricilla, and three other gods he didn’t know closed in around them. He only knew they were gods by the signature subtle glow to their skin. The sign of immortality. He didn’t have any weapon that could kill them, Valeen did.
The golden cuffs dangling in Pricilla’s grasp taunted him. “You can surrender, Hel. You don’t have to die today.”
Mathekis nodded at Hel. “Go, Lord.” With his sword raised high, he charged. The god next to Pricilla threw out his palm and insects swarmed Mathekis, covering him in seconds. He screamed, clawing and batting to get them off. Then he fell to the ground and went still.
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