Page 68 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)
“Get Kaira out of the way,” I tell Silas in my bodily voice, not ready to tell my sister I don’t believe she’ll survive this, but Kaira picks the thought from my head anyway.
“Don’t you dare, Ayna. If I die here today, it will be to save my court and nothing else. I’ve never been a hero, but you can’t take this away from me. I won’t stand by while you all sacrifice yourselves.”
There is no time to argue when balls of fire and silver power are sailing for us, making the ground tremble beneath our feet.
The first assault of magic Myron, Royad, and Rogue release do little when they hit our opponents with their gray, magic-repellant armor, but when Tori’s liquified rocks hit their faces and claws, they cringe and fall back. Glad to know at least something works.
“Use your blades,” Tori’s order comes through the mind link. “Your magic won’t do much to stop them.”
I don’t even want to think that we’re about to slay a good portion of what’s left of the Crows—and there is nothing else we can do. We can’t restrain them with magic or lock them in a dungeon.
With a scream, I draw my other dagger, letting my magic dance along the blade, just in case I hit one of them in an unprotected spot. My side burns, the wound still refusing to heal, but hope smothers the pain enough for the moment to allow me to believe I’ll be able to fight.
“Let’s do this.” I don’t know if I’m talking to my family, my court, or the God of Crows, and it doesn’t matter.
When my blades find their first mark beneath the arm of a Crow, I commend his soul to Shaelak and dive for the next kill.
Like a wave, I roll across the battlefield, the pain in my side a distant hum keeping me from forgetting I can, in fact, die at the tip of a blade or a blow of magic, despite my technical immortality.
It doesn’t matter either. Ephegos’s followers won’t kill me, their magic and their blades diverting whenever they come too close to me, like they are afraid they’ll get burned.
It’s my chance to neutralize as many of them as I can before Ephegos shows up to take what he has been meaning to take for so long.
“Where is Herinor?” I ask into the mind link—and almost stumble over my own feet as the male’s rumbling voice fills my head.
“On my way, Ayna.”
I can sense him rushing through the forest in his bird form, can feel the wind under his wings like they were my own. He’ll be here within moments, his sight already set on the black-haze wielding male at the edge of the field.
Myron. I need to get to Myron before Herinor does.
“On it.” True to herself, Kaira darts across the space separating us from Myron.
Rogue, Tori, and Royad have formed a shield of silver and hard air around the Crow King, but that won’t last long when the Flames and Crows shoot magic-nullifying missiles at them.
“Open the shield,” Kaira pants, the silver glimmer dropping a heartbeat before she barrels into it.
Then she’s through, and arrows are nocked in her bow. “I need you to make holes so I can shoot without destroying your shield,” she explains.
The males comply, giving her enough space to fire at the approaching troops, and Guardians bless her, each of her arrows hits their mark. Ten Flames are down, arrow shafts protruding from their eye sockets or their throats, but more keep coming, an onslaught of fire preceding their approach.
“Take out as many as you can before Ephegos shows up,” I order, but they are already doing just that.
Left and right, blood sprays as Silas, Tori, and Clio cut down Crows and Flames alike. Rogue joins us at the front, too, while Kaira remains with Myron, the shield around him turning translucent onyx threaded with starlight.
“I’m stalling, but I can’t delay much longer,” Herinor warns us before he emerges from the line of trees behind Myron and Kaira, the male emerging from the bird form landing between corpses.
Powerful legs march for the Crow King, Herinor’s hands turned to claws and his face half feathered.
A beak protrudes from his features where a nose should have been.
He stalks straight for Myron, claws gripping for the shield as if he doesn’t care what happens to him in the process of ripping through it—but I do. And so does Kaira, her screams and pleas for him to stop echoing across the noise of combat .
I’m paralyzed where I stand, daggers still stuck in the neck of a Crow and heart pounding at the sight of Herinor making progress through the shield.
“I don’t want to kill you,” Myron shouts at Herinor.
The male doesn’t stop, no longer able to avoid Ephegos’s order.
I don’t see the Crow coming when his claws lock around my biceps, tearing my arms behind my back and restraining me while a second Crow pours a vial of liquid into my mouth.
“NO!” Myron’s scream tears the air—and his shield.
His power is a storm of onyx and stars rushing across the field, tinting everything in darkness as I strain against the razor-sharp talons slicing through my leathers. Myron is coming for me. He is coming for me—all I need to do is hold out for a moment longer.
The drug is already dulling my senses, a foggy blanket layered over everything my Crow self has become. I might have built up a resilience, but a full vial of the damned drug apparently can still pull my legs from under me.
“Let her go,” Myron demands. I don’t know where he is and what he’ll do to save me, but if he won’t, nobody can.
I can’t hear the others in my head. Can’t sense anything through the bond.
I can’t even feel a shred of my powers as the drug kicks in full force, making the nausea and bone-deep heaviness the only proof I’m a magical creature.
Somewhere in the distance, Clio’s screams shatter the frozen air, followed by Tori’s cursing and Royad’s shouts. Their words have lost all meaning—and I’m so, so tired .
Fighting to keep my eyes open, I sag into the Crow’s grasp, and the black haze lifts enough to make out the outlines of too many gray-armored Crows and Flames filling the space between my family—and on the side, ten paces away from where Herinor has his hands locked around Myron’s biceps, Ephegos stands like a statue of victory, sword in his hand and a smirk on his face.