Chapter 29

ANA

The horizon bled pink, orange, and purple as dawn unfurled its menacing fingers upon the sky. After hours of flight, Quinn's kingdom loomed ahead, smoke curling from its heart. Tension crackled in the air. Birds scattered in a flurry, fleeing the ominous cloud. Flames danced across the castle grounds. Ana coughed, acrid smoke stinging her eyes and throat. Through watering vision, she saw oalnts escaping a burning tree.

The approaching mountains revealed their jagged teeth. The rocky cliffs of the plateau were a stark reminder of the kingdom's isolation and the plummeting drop that used to send chills down Ana's spine.

Now, a different kind of dread gnawed at her—a primal terror of heights that threatened to resurface amidst the chaos unfolding before them. She swallowed hard, forcing down her fear, but it left a touch of nausea in its wake. The acrid taste of bile lingered at the back of her throat as she steeled herself for what lay ahead.

"Forget stealth! The bugs will alert Gregor," Quinn yelled. "Tilda, summon Fern!"

Tilda gripped Ana tight, her whistle's silent notes summoning a piercing cry from Fern. The bird swooped out in a blur of shimmering blue feathers. Tilda whistled again, pointing at a lone, unsuspecting enemy soldier. With lightning speed, the bird's talons sank into his flesh.

From beneath the keep, a wave of beetles erupted from the bushes, each with a tiny rider. A dishearteningly smaller force of gargoyles followed. More wee people poured out from their homes, others scaling the mountain with oalnt-like agility.

Quinn landed the gnomes he carried as Ana touched down. Tilda jumped free from her grip. He turned to Ana. A worried whisper brushed her ear. "Stay safe."

"You, too," she replied, pulling away and drawing her sword.

Luke approached, his face grim. "Sire, complications arose. We couldn't rescue many soldiers."

Quinn nodded, and his jaw tightened. "Let's hope it's enough." He sighed and looked to his growing army. "Time to reclaim what's mine." Blade drawn, he soared with Luke to meet Gregor's forces amidst the smoke and ash. Steel clashed, and shouts were drowned out by the roar of battle.

A tiny beetle riding duo swooped down on a soldier chasing Fern. With a daring leap, one wee man jumped on the gargoyle's back, using a hoe on his rear like a stubborn horse.

"Get off." The gargoyle flailed at his tiny rider.

Ana scanned the fight. Her eyes landed on a gnome being crushed by a laughing soldier. Fury burst through her. She charged, shoulder-checking the bully with bone-jarring force, knocking him from his prey.

The little man scrambled to stand, dusting off his tunic.

"Thanks," he panted, adjusting his oversized helmet. "Thought I was a pancake."

Ana grinned. "Not on my watch, friend."

The stunned attacker roared and lurched to his feet. Ana, undeterred, met his gaze as he surged toward her. She sidestepped, slashing at his wing. The tortured gnome leaped in, his kitchen knife stabbing the bully's arm. Finally, Ana delivered a decisive blow with her sword, cracking the hilt against the gargoyle's skull and rendering him unconscious.

A boomerang whizzed by her in a deadly blur, striking a soldier's head with a thud. He collapsed, comatose. Tilda rushed over with a wave and retrieved her weapon, then launched herself at another enemy.

Arrows zoomed perilously close as Ana fought, their lethal song overwhelmed by the cacophony of ringing steel. Above, tiny beetle riders buzzed furiously like an angry swarm, raining boomerangs that hissed through the air. Chief Orry bellowed a war cry as he battled, his boomerang finding its mark with fatal precision over and over.

Grief threatened to engulf Ana as she surveyed the fallen. A gruff voice cut through her sorrow. "No time for mournin'! We ain't done!"

He lassoed a gargoyle from the sky. Other gnomes joined in, pulling him to the ground and binding him with practiced ease.

Laughter erupted as a swarm of gnomes leaped upon a gargoyle soldier. Several clung to his waist and arms, keeping him low to the ground as he flapped wildly. One mischievous gnome in red overalls gripped the soldier's leather pants, sliding down with them. The gargoyle's leathers bunched around his ankles.

As the soldier fought, the gnome dangled precariously from the pants, his tiny legs kicking in the air. With a final tug, the pants slipped free, and the gnome tumbled to the ground. Quick as a flash, he sprang to his feet and dashed away, triumphantly waving the stolen trousers like a battle flag.

"Look what I got." As he ran, chuckling, Ana giggled. The wee man then darted through the trees, his red overalls a beacon against the green.

The sight of the bare-bottomed, bewildered gargoyle surrounded by gleeful gnomes sent a fresh wave of laughter through the onlookers. He tossed his riders and chased his pants.

When the naked warrior breached the canopy, several other little men ambushed him, forcing him to the grass and subduing him.

Fueled by adrenaline, Ana launched herself back into the fray. A swift kick dislodged a soldier from a gnome, her sword singing a metallic song as she drew it. She parried a lackluster strike, but a yank from behind immobilized her. With a violent headbutt, she heard a bone crunch and felt the pressure release. The gargoyle crumpled with a grunt, clutching his nose.

Another swooped down, arms outstretched. Ana dodged, only to face a new opponent. She thrusted, then blocked a blow. This warrior, however, held back, using the flat side of his blade. Confusion flickered as her as she was disarmed. A sickening thud followed as the soldier struck her face with the hilt, pain bursting through her.

The taste of a metallic tang fueled her rage, and her eyes narrowed. With a swift motion, she wiped the blood, ignoring her throbbing wound. Delivering a powerful kick to the gargoyle's stomach, she ended with a flawlessly executed hook kick, causing him to crumple.

Reaching for her lost weapon, she saw the first warrior, now sporting a broken nose, lumber toward her. Tae, the black-haired tailor, snagged the soldier's leg with a flying lasso of measuring tape. Gratitude surged through her as gnomes tackled and secured him and the other fallen enemies.

A group of Gregor's gargoyles, disoriented and swaying like drunks, caught her eye, confusing her, but she ignored them for now. Their movements were sluggish, and their eyes glazed, indicating they posed no immediate threat.

Adrenaline masking pain, she continued the fight, disarming a soldier and hook-kicking another. Suddenly, an iron grip tightened on her neck. Without hesitation, she sank her teeth into flesh, blood filling her mouth. Panic flared as she released him.

"Oh, shit!" She spat out the coppery liquid. The terrifying potential of her venom flashed through her mind. "Please don't orgasm."

The warrior collapsed, unconscious, and she shuddered with relief. Yet, the battlefield, a gruesome tapestry of crimson and mud, stretched before her. Blood pooled around the fallen while others lay incapacitated within minty globs. Checking airways, she opened air slots for those who couldn't breathe, then focused on the wounded.

Working quickly, she then prioritized the injured. She checked pulses, applied pressure to gashes, and improvised bandages from tattered cloth. The agonized moans of the hurt and cries of pain were a constant reminder of the urgency.

Weaving through the chaos, another gargoyle dashed toward her. He deflected her attacks with infuriating ease, spinning with his tail snapping like a whip. Agile as a cat, she launched a roundhouse kick, sending the soldier sprawling.

Though fatigue crept in, she took a moment to scoop up two gnomes and carry them to a safer spot under a tree and away from the battle. Then, a shiver ran down her spine, unrelated to the shade. A prickling sensation intensified at the back of her neck. Glancing up, her breath hitched. Quinn was locked in a ferocious duel with Gregor, their swords a blur of deadly steel. The clashing echoed through her bones. Each movement resonated with danger.

Yet, another shadow darkened the scene. A soldier, Gregor's reinforcement, descended upon her love from behind. Fear threatened to consume her, but charging in would only be a reckless distraction. Panic clawed at her, her mind a desperate storm as she wrestled with the impossible situation.

A glint of sunlight on metal stole her attention; another gargoyle swooped toward Quinn. With a feral snarl, she launched herself, sword flashing. A well-placed blow clipped the gargoyle's wing, sending him crashing to the ground. Her heart pounded, and sweat poured, slicking her palms as she wiped her blade clean on the grass.

The duel raged on. Quinn, a whirlwind of steel, parried blows from every direction. Each movement grew more ragged, and each dodge brought him closer to the treacherous cliff edge.

The smoke from the burning woods choked the air, obscuring the fight from view. Panic clawed at Ana's throat. She sprinted toward the precipice, desperate to see him.

Quinn danced a deadly ballet. With pinpoint accuracy, he dispatched one soldier with his blade, and another with a swift kick. Then, in a blur of motion, he lunged at Gregor, his sword plunging deep into the gargoyle's abdomen.

Gregor's cry was lost in the wind as he fell, his body twisting in an ungainly descent. With a sickening thud, he struck the earth. Blood erupted from his mouth in a crimson spray.

Relief washed over Ana, followed by a jolt of terror. She spotted an archer aiming directly at Quinn from the cliff's edge. "Quinn! Arrow!" The scream tore from her throat with every ounce of air in her lungs.

A gargoyle, his loyalty etched in his desperate cry of "My King!" swooped in front of Quinn, taking the projectile in his chest. Guignol crumpled to the ground, a plume of dust marking his fall.

Tears stung Ana's eyes as she raced to his side. His bloodied chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, the arrow still embedded there. She pressed her trembling hand against the wound, trying to stem the crimson flow. "You saved him," she choked, her fingers slick with blood, cradling his head as if her touch could anchor him to life.

Guignol, his voice raspy, whispered, "Sorry…" before falling limp and his eyes rolling back. His final breath escaped him in a soft sigh.

With a hand shaking still upon his bloodied chest, grief constricted her throat, but she managed to murmur, "Rest easy." She blinked back tears that blurred her vision as she placed his head on the grass.

A scream pierced the air. Tilda lay sprawled on the ground. Dygo, the traitorous gothi, towered over her with a stolen boomerang clutched in his fist. Before Ana could react, a beefy hand clamped over her mouth, forcing her to her feet. The same soldier wrenched her sword away.

Dygo's gaze snapped upwards, nostrils flaring. With a chilling flick of his wrist, he launched the weapon.

Quinn, locked in his own struggle with another warrior, remained unaware. The boomerang connected with a sickening thud. His head lolled, and in seeming slow-motion, he plummeted over the perilous mountainside into the depths below.

A primal roar ripped from Ana's throat. She stomped on her captor's foot, then slammed her head into his face with brutal force. As he sprawled, her vicious kick sent him spinning to the earth. Without hesitation, Ana flung herself over the treacherous cliff's edge, diving after the fallen form of her love.