Page 78 of Vanquished Gods
I let out a long, shaky breath.
The best chance of surviving the day was to use the forest as a weapon—its shadows, moss, and roots, the power that flowed from beneath the soil. The magic granted to us by the gods.
Distantly, I heard war drums beating rhythmically on the approaching ships, and I glanced back to see them moving closer. As the fleet approached the rocky shore, I tightened my grip on the wand, my palm sweating slightly.
The entire fleet of the kingdom of Merthyn was descending on our little island. Thousands of soldiers, all there to kill us.
I absolutely could not afford to let myself think about Leo, or else the fear of failure would drown me. I had to stay there, in themoment, and pretend that he was nowhere near us. I had to keep a clear head.
The ships’ dark hulls carved through the misty waves. Their sails, emblazoned with the Archon’s sun symbol, billowed in the wind. From where we stood, I could hear the canvas snapping in the sea breeze, slamming against the rigging.
My gaze landed on the gleam of soldiers on the decks, their armor sparkling with morning light. Archers with longbows, foot soldiers armed with broadswords and pikes.
As they moved even closer, my legs shook.
At the bottom of the hill, the ships’ hulls broke through the fog.
My thoughts went strangely quiet as the first ships scraped onto the rocks. Soldiers and horses spilled out of the boats onto the shore, their armor shimmering. They were already moving into formation, their pikes tipped toward us.
In the distance, the sound of metal scraping against metal echoed in the air as the Luminari drew their swords. Others raised shields adorned with suns, as if those shields could protect them from our magic.
Their Magister led the vanguard—and just by his side, mounted on a horse, was the Pater. He looked gaunt, his face like a snake’s, wrinkled and withered. But there he was, still alive.
As the infantry marched over the rocks, their footsteps were heavy, rhythmic. They marched in unison, bearing the sigil of the Archon. Horses snorted, steam coiling from their nostrils, and mounted knights urged them forward, their lances held high.
The foot soldiers adjusted their pikes.
But the archers were the real risk to us. They moved with precision, lined up in perfect formation behind the advancing infantry. In a swift, synchronized movement, they drew their longbows, nocking their arrows.
“Take cover! Shields up!” Sion shouted, as the archers aimed their bows toward the crest of the hill.
We ducked behind our shields, and I looked up as an enormous volley of arrows darkened the sky above, whistling through the air. They thunked all around us, slamming into our shields—and each arrow, I noted, was made of hawthorn.
I looked down the line of witches and vampires on either side of me, checking that everyone was fine.
From behind the shield, I heard their Magister bark his command: “Nock, draw, loose!”
Again, arrows hissed through the air, casting shadows over us. They slammed into the ground, thudding all around us. Someone cried out in pain—a vampire, hit in the shoulder. But already, he was ripping the arrow out.
Sion and I nodded at each other once.
From behind the shield, Sion yelled, “Summon your magic.”
Crouching, I started to summon the magic from the ground up. Tension crackled over my skin. As my fingers tightened around my wand, I glanced at Sion.
“Unleash it!” he shouted.
Death power snaked around my feet and calves, pulsing into my body, alive, hungry, a beast that needed to be fed. And as I summoned my magic, shadows darkened the air. Darkness spilled out from the line of vampires on either side of me, and my magic sought the shadows, wanting to join them. And as the light dimmed, I peered around my shield to see the Pater on his horse, hunched over as he rode.
If we could capture him for good, maybe this would all be over. Once my death magic hit him, he would simply disappear and reappear again. But maybe by the time he came back, his army would be retreating after a resounding defeat. He’d have no one left to defend him there.
I let my death magic mingle with the shadows, and a dark, fatal wall rose up before us. A veil of shadow magic rolled down the hill, a wave of death that crashed into the oncoming soldiers.
I could no longer see the Luminari, but I could hear their frightened heartbeats. I could feel their panicked breaths. I could smell the fear rolling off of them, then the life seeping from them as my magic stroked their fragile little bodies. The scent of death coiled through the air. My magic wanted to devour their lives, to wrap them in the suffocating embrace of decay. The sound of screaming rose higher. By then, those just behind the shadows realized what was happening, that a wave of magical death was rolling closer.
A burst of heat pulsed by my side as Percival and the fire witches unleashed their magic, aiming for the ships, sending gouts of flames through the shadows.
More screams ripped through the air, and I breathed in the scent of blood, of singed flesh. I inhaled the utter terror that rolled through the atmosphere.