Page 37 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)
Twenty-Six
Ayna
It really shouldn’t matter where those new Crows came from when they are clearly here on Ephegos’s orders.
Wherever Erina went, he must have gotten a message out to call for aid—and here they are.
Twenty fresh Crow warriors in the dull gray armor of Erina’s troops.
I miss the days when General Katrijanov’s black and blue uniform was what I feared most. Then, the mere thought of touching the fabrics didn’t put me into a spiral of panic.
The sounds have become dull around me, my grip on my daggers the only thing that matters as I twist and spin between the strikes of heavy blades.
My magic is still swirling around the steel in my hands, and so far, it hasn’t guttered the way I’ve been dreading it would when making contact with my opponents’ armor or weapons.
“They weren’t prepared for a magical assault,” Kaira deduces, picking through my thoughts as she leaps into the hallway after Herinor, her dagger drawn and her other hand rolling a silver ball of power she harvests from the air when one of the enemy Crows sends it Herinor’s way.
“I think we really messed with both Erina’s and Ephegos’s plans by coming here. ”
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Myron doesn’t sound hopeful, and I get it.
Hope has become one of my most dreaded endeavors after everything we’ve been through.
“Erina must have had an escape route, or he wouldn’t have disappeared like that, but had he been truly prepared for our arrival, we wouldn’t have been able to cut down the first twenty Crows.
They would all be in magic-defying armor and fight us with the serum. ”
He barely finishes his thought when Silas shouts a warning, shoving Myron out of the way in the blink of an eye before a squirt of the godsdamned serum would have landed in Myron’s face. Together, they duck out of the way, cutting into the Crow’s abdomen with combined force.
I don’t allow myself to gasp or freeze or rush to his side with the two Crows stepping into my path. Their grins are as feral as a beast’s, and they cock their heads in unison as they gauge what easy prey I make with my toothpick blades compared to the longswords hanging on their hips.
They don’t draw them, though. With a cackle, they attack, their hands turning into sharp talons, and I nearly lose my footing when they hit both my daggers at the same time .
I stumble backward along the hallway, shoulder against the darkened wood of the wall as I strain to regain my hold on my powers.
A few feet ahead, Silas and Myron are taking down another Crow, Royad is fighting two males at once, and Herinor and Kaira are herding the rest toward us like sheep between wolves.
But these sheep have fangs and claws, and we won’t survive trying to shear them.
“Don’t run from us, little Ayna.” The Crow closest to me follows at a measured pace, doing some herding of his own while the second veers to the side, blocking the width of the hallway so I can’t dart past them, back to the rest of my flock. “We’re not here to kill you.”
Of course not. They never are. Only to capture me and haul me back to their master to suffer some more.
“Perhaps you should try anyway.” I give them my best smirk while I pull up the reserves of my power and spool them into my palms. “It’s the only way Ephegos will ever lay a hand on me again—if I’m dead.”
Neither of them laughs, their faces turning into those of predators, mouths and noses slowly forming into beaks and eyes turning into black pits as they start shifting—only enough to take away their handsome fae features and replace them with those of the monsters of the Seeing Forest who terrified the shit out of me when I first arrived there.
They still do. At the sight of my nightmares, I stumble another step back, but my magic is ready, even when my body is struggling to hold its ground.
“Ephegos will be disappointed to hear you think so little of him,” the taller of the two hisses .
I can barely make out his words over the noise of clashing steel in the hallway, the shouts and grunts and thumps and thuds of battle.
“Do you need help, Ayna?” Myron prompts through the mind link, and my entire body tenses at the mere thought of him abandoning his own fight to rush to my aid.
He’d risk his life in a heartbeat to save me from whatever these Crows have in mind.
“Stay where you are.” I won’t allow him to put himself in harm’s way. Not when it’s him who Ephegos wants dead. “I can handle them.”
There’s no time to doubt the truth of my statement when the two Crows attack, claws slashing for me.
My daggers parry one blow after another, stars shuddering around the steel with each impact, but I don’t lose any more ground.
My center of gravity is low enough to keep my footing on a tiny boat in storm-tossed waters, and the way the ground seems to sway under the force of the brutal battle raging in the narrow hallway of the inn puts me right back to my days as a pirate, the many times I captured ships with the crew of the Wild Ray.
I can feel wind on my face and taste brine on my tongue rather than the tang of blood. My veins are full of the water of the oceans—no, the waters of the goddess who watches over them—filling me with new strength as I pit myself against the raw force of the two brute males.
I don’t land a hit, but neither do they.
At least, not at first.
I fought a battle before coming here, then fought Erina’s Crow guards at this inn.
Despite Vala’s obvious attention, I’m losing speed, my steps less nimble than a minute ago, and my arms become heavier by the moment.
The swirling stars around my daggers flare bright, but the light quickly dims again, dulling with each time I bat those claws away.
“Give up, little Ayna,” one of the males caws. “We can play this game until you can no longer lift a finger.” He smirks at me. “But Ephegos won’t be happy if we bring back a sack of bones rather than his promised mate .”
Myron’s ire burns down the bond a moment before I can sense my own fury.
“Shaelak’s bargain with Ephegos,” he growls through the mind link. Not that I needed reminding. “Get out of here before they capture you, Ayna.”
He means it. He’d rather see me run away than watch me fight for both our freedom.
Not. A. Chance. “I said it once, and I’ll say it again: I won’t leave without you. Not here. Not now. Not ever.”
It’s my final statement on the matter, and Myron knows it. They all do, because nobody challenges me, even when I grunt under the strain of the next blow I parry, my arm sore and muscles quivering.
“Whatever we’re doing, we need to do it fast,” Royad throws in, and gods bless Kaira’s ability to establish this mind link, or we’d never stand a chance at coordinating while each of us is busy fighting our own battles.
“Five down,” Silas reports, the thud of his hatchet hitting its mark sounding through the hallway. “Correction: seven.”
From the corner of my eye, I spot him pulling his weapon from a dropping Crow’s skull. He doesn’t wipe it before throwing himself at the next opponent .
That moment of inattention is enough for one of the Crows to spear through my guard and bury his talons in my shoulder.
A stifled scream escapes my throat as I try to pull out of his grasp, but his claws have sunken deep, and the sturdy leathers they pierced make it difficult to shake him off.
It hurts like the gods’ wrath is raining down upon me, and had I half a thought available, I might have made up a creative curse specifically to describe the sensation of five razor sharp talons hooking into my flesh and tugging me closer by my leathers while the flesh beneath is sliced and shredded with each movement.
No matter how hard I try, my hand won’t hold tight around my dagger, and the blade slips from my fingers, the sound of it hitting the ground swallowed up by the raging battle in the hallway. So are my screams.
I can still sense Myron’s panic and fury, but he’s locked in combat. If he abandons his opponent now, a sword in his back is all he’ll end up with, and I can’t have him sacrifice himself for me—again. I simply can’t.
“Ayna—”
“Stay where you are.” I force my mental voice into a growled warning. Not just for him but for all of my court. All of them fighting for our future. Even Herinor.
I won’t let them down. I won’t succumb to the pain or the darkness threatening at the edge of my consciousness. I won’t.
“We’ve got you.” The taller of the two males hisses as he watches me struggle against his partner’s grasp, and his features turn back into the handsome ones of a fae. Doesn’t make the situation any better, though .
Think, Ayna. Think. The pain makes it almost impossible, but the presence of my mate through the everlasting bond wraps around me like a soothing balm, buying me a moment to breathe.
It’s all Myron can do for me from where he’s still engaged in battle, but it’s enough to let me sense that I’m not the only one who’s trapped with the way the talons are hooked into my shoulder.
The male can’t go anywhere without releasing me, and I still have my other dagger. As if to confirm what I already know, my eyes dart to the side, searching for the glow of silver stars.
The taller male makes a step toward me, already reaching to trap my second shoulder. I need to act before he can get his claws on me, too.
“No,” I whisper, and to anyone but me, it might have sounded like I’m begging, but it’s the sheer agony weakening my voice. What I really mean is denial. “You don’t.”
The male’s eyes widen as my dagger swings for his partner, the male not fast enough to release me when my blade cuts clean through his arm.
No one is more surprised than I am when the arm detaches from the male’s shoulder before his talons unhook from my bicep, and I realize that I severed the godsdamned thing with a dagger .
“A dagger encased with Crow magic,” Myron notes through the mind link, relief and pride warring in his tone while he pulls his sword out of the chest of the male he was fighting.
I don’t dwell on the feeling of what just happened or the fact that, now that the talons are no longer filling the holes in my shoulder, I might very well bleed out, but brace my arm against the wall and, with a scream, push myself at the second male, driving my dagger straight into his heart.
I don’t care that his talons rip through the leathers on my back as he tries to peel me off him. If I don’t use this moment of surprise, I won’t be conscious to defend myself in a matter of moments. And I can’t allow anyone to drag me back to Ephegos. Never again.
It’s a promise I make to myself.
The pressure on my back softens, talons slipping out of my skin as the male’s heart stops beating, and I barely find the strength to push him off and withdraw my blade.
Where are my healing powers when I need them?
While I search deep down for the trickle of warmth I know will seal my bleeding wounds, I will my eyes to remain on the Crow folding in on himself, right on top of his companion, whose arm stub no longer squirts blood everywhere.
I did it. I defeated them both.
Swaying on my feet, I step past them, closer to the thinning battle.
“Two more down,” I whisper into the mind link.
My gaze finds Myron’s over what’s left of the battle, and tears fill my eyes at the sight of blood smeared on his face and a gash along his thigh. His lips quirk in a half smile as he attacks the Crow between us with sword and magic, piercing a hole in his chest.
The male sags, hitting Myron’s knee with his shoulder as he topples face-first to the ground.
“Five more to go.”