CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR（Untitled）Branikk

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Branikk

The angry cries of the sluagh are designed to incite terror, but orc battle rage wells in my chest, heating my blood. The soul sucking fae dared to attack my village only a month ago, and I have not forgotten the pitched battle barely won.

My first arrow flies true, lancing through one of their wings and punching into the trunk of a tree, pinning the bird without killing it. Yet it does nothing to stop the rest of the flock.

By the goddess, I'd really hoped that would work, but I suppose on some level I have not trapped the bird within "my" control. And magical laws, like all things fae, can be a tricky beast when it comes to particulars.

I shoot off several more arrows, only now realizing I should have attached some to ropes to pull the birds back to me to entrap them. If only I had time to do so!

But there is no time.

"Get behind me!" I yell to my bride as the birds descend en masse. "Since you've been attacked by a sluagh before, you'll be more susceptible!"

"You fought them, too." She stays where she is, waving the knife I gave her. "You're just as susceptible."

I growl, unable to say she's wrong, but hating that she's in danger.

I sling my bow on my back and pull my sword, which is better for close fighting. Killing individual birds will do little to the soul stealers unless I can kill the entire flock. But anything I can do to keep us from being pecked will help us fight longer.

Whirling, I lash my sword through the air. The moon steel of my blade slices through one small body after the next, sending them tumbling, fading from view as they die, the trapped souls they once housed now freed to find peace.

Over and over, I strike, killing one individual bird after another, my ears filled with nothing but their angry shrieks. Yet still they come. There have to be at least three sluagh flocks present, there are so many birds, and they attack from all sides.

No matter how many I slay, no matter how quickly I move, sharp jabs of pain flare across my back. With each peck, they drink a little more of my soul, steal a little more of my life force. Soon, I'm slowing, even though I fight against the lethargy with all my great strength.

Aurora rears with an angry whinny, front hooves and horn striking out at the vile, red-beaked birds.

The cu sith leaps into the air, massive jaws snapping closed around a bird, which falls still and fades from view, dead.

"Trap them alive," I shout in reminder.

But I understand. These sluagh have been threatening his pack and pups. The desire to end them will ride him, much as the same battle lust pounds in my blood.

Grace—my precious bride—cries out in pain, sending ice through my veins. When I can finally turn in her direction, she cuts at a bird latched onto her opposite shoulder, the knife finally finding its mark in one beady red eye.

But she's been pecked. Even with the individual bird dead, the overall sluagh still feasts on that piece of her soul. Too many more such attacks, and she'll fall unconscious.

And further attacks will kill her, trapping her for an eternity as one of the soul stealer's victims.

Another bird dives toward her, and Grace stumbles, her legs failing her. The end is near.

Terror digs claws into my heart.

I cannot lose her! My moon bound bride is my life!

"Grace!" I roar.

Lifting my sword overhead, I leap to slice the vile bird from the air.