Page 136 of Avalon Tower
I tremble and lean into him, staring out at the fleet, the ships’ sails billowing in the wind.
I let out a long, slow breath. The veil has disappeared. The veil mage lies slumped on the ship’s bow. Dead, maybe. I pray that he was the only one. I don’t have the strength to do that again.
As I scan the horizon, I don’t see another veil rising from the sea.
I pull away from Raphael and move to the other side of the battlements, looking out at the city.
There are still far too many people clogging the Dover streets.
“They’ll take the city with their troops,” Raphael says grimly.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Then we have to slow them down, give the rest of the civilians time to evacuate. Otherwise, Dover will become a bloodbath.”
“Let’s get down to the docks. We’ll need a barricade.”
CHAPTER 47
Icrouch behind a makeshift barricade formed of cars and military vehicles near the docks. A line of British soldiers waits alongside me, guns aimed forward. We’re clearly no match for this army, but we can at least try to slow them.
I peer over the hood of a car to see the clipper ships sailing for the shore. We managed to sink one of them with our cannons and damaged another severely, but the rest are still coming.
Volleys of arrows fly overhead, darkening the sky for a few horrifying moments. We can’t return fire. The Fey are mostly protected from our guns with their magical barriers. There’s only one of me to disable them, and I’m at the brink of exhaustion.
Cannons and guns thunder around us, and I survey the scene—arrows jutting from the dead on our side of the barricade, blood spilled over the streets. Acrid smoke floats through the air.
I hunch lower behind the car. Arrows litter the pavement near me, and the sound of screaming punctuates the battle. Soon, the Fey will be charging through Dover, killing everyone in sight.
From the docks, I hear the low, rhythmic beating of a Fey war drum, the booms loud as the cannons. The Fey blow their Feyhorns, a low and terrifying din that pierces my chest with primal fear.
Another volley of arrows shadows the sky above us, and I press close against the car door. More arrows clatter to the ground, inches from me.
I peer over the hood and see the first three ships glide onto shore. My heart thunders as the Fey warriors jump onto the dock, their armor limned by the morning sun. Surrounded by their shimmering magical barrier, they charge, their ragged battle cries floating on the marine wind, a sound as horrifying as a banshee scream.
The sergeant glances at me.
“Not yet,” I say.
“Steady!” he shouts at the soldiers.
More and more Fey storm ashore and swarm the cramped docks. The first Fey warriors are only twenty yards from us.
I summon my powers—a bloom of scarlet in my mind—and smash through their magical barrier. Their shield shatters. The heat bleeds from my body, leaving me cold.
“Fire!” Raphael yells, wrapping his arms around me.
Dozens of semi-automatic guns fire around me, the sound deafening.
Iron is not poisonous to this Fey army, and their bodies are stronger than the bodies of humans, but if you shoot them enough times, they will die.
Shivering, I see many of the first attackers fall to the ground, dead or wounded. We may not have many soldiers, but the guns are effective.
Raphael pulls me closer. He’s trying to keep the chill away, but he also wants to protect me, wrap me up in cotton to keep me safe, but that’s not why we’re here, is it?
The Fey keep coming, line after line of them, shrieking war cries against the hail of bullets.
Even with our guns, the attackers are upon us. Chaos breaks loose as they scale the makeshift barricade and the soldiers fire their guns.
Raphael bounds onto the hood of a car and unsheathes his sword. A Fey leaps after him, and Raphael cuts his throat, then immediately disarms another. He kicks a third attacker off the hood, then stabs him in the back. He is a whirlwind of violence, cutting down anything that comes close.