by Everly Frost
He says, “These ones will.”
Slade’s confident statement stops Amalia in her tracks. She pauses her forward flight, eyes narrowed, appearing to reconsider her approach.
I take a quick glance at him. All we need is one clean shot while one of us is touching her. We need the combined Keres and Valkyrie power to end her.
“Well, then,” she says. “It’s three against one. That seems a little unfair, doesn’t it? Let’s level the playing field.”
She lifts her arms into the air and throws her head back, shouting, “Rise, fallen soldiers!”
She was about to tell me about this place when Slade appeared. I have no idea what to expect as the ground rumbles. I adjust my balance to stay upright as ash and coal shift beneath my feet.
Slade and Archer are tense and on edge beside me. They draw closer to me as the nearest lava threads widen several feet, becoming rivers of molten lava flowing around us. Heat grows in the air and sweat pools at my throat. The patch of earth where we stand shrinks until we are forced to huddle back to back to avoid the burning substance.
I’m shocked when the shapes of women rise from within the lava streams, molten flames dripping off their armored forms. Their heads are lowered, their arms held close to their sides, fire streaming from their long hair and muscular torsos as they emerge.
There are at least two hundred of them, rising from molten streams all over the ashen field to form ranks behind Amalia, hovering in the air with her.
“My soldiers!” Amalia shrieks. “Obey your Queen!”
In unison, the women lift their heads and spread their wings, spraying lava off their bodies to finally reveal their faces. They are each unique with flawless skin and hair of all colors. Their armor is made of black leather with silver buckles and they carry a multitude of weapons—some carry spears, others wield daggers and swords, and yet others hold bows and arrows.
Their wings are silver like mine.
I gasp. “What the hell?”
Amalia gives me a pleased smile. “This is the Valkyrie and Keres End Land. Every warrior who fell in battle rests in this field.”
Behind her, two hundred Valkyrie women lower themselves to the ground, folding their wings away while remaining in their rank formations. Now that they have emerged, the lava streams in the ground constrict again, the earth returns to ash, and the burning liquid runs once again in thin threads across the plain.
The Valkyrie army gives a single war cry that echoes around us.
Amalia demonstrates her control of them when she points to two women who stand slightly ahead of the others. They wear different armor, their breastplates colored deep purple, and they carry katanas—just like mine.
Amalia shouts, “Generals! Prepare your warriors. Don’t underestimate your opponents.” She gives us a haughty smile. “As pathetic as these three intruders look.”
Now that the earth has reformed under our feet, I have room to spin to Slade and Archer. My back is still sore but adrenalin masks any pain I feel. I keep my voice low. “I need to go after Amalia. That’s the only way this ends. Slade, can you protect Archer and fly her to the island? The Valkyrie have the power to kill her and she isn’t able use her power to defend herself against them.”
He takes hold of my arm. “They can kill you, too, Hunter.”
Archer nods beside him, her violet eyes deeply concerned.
They’re both right. I’m vulnerable right now—my body’s healing power is nearly exhausted. The Valkyrie killing power could seriously hurt me. Enough strikes could end what is left of my struggling body.
I shake my head, a slow side to side motion. “I need to do this.”
Slade’s gaze softens. “I know.” His thumb brushes across my arm as he searches my eyes. He seems to make a decision. “Okay. Archer and I will go right. I’ll fly us as high and as far as I can. We’ll head toward the island. The Valkyrie ranks are less dense toward the back rows so we can fight them more easily there if we have to.”
Archer flips a dagger into her other hand and says, “The assassin’s code doesn’t apply here, so we can kill them, correct?”
I nod and Slade agrees. “They’re technically already dead.”
Archer continues, “When I fought Amalia after she attacked the Horde, she told me I was stronger than others of my kind. Well, she’s about to find out how much stronger.” She turns to Slade. “Hold me so I can fight and I’ll protect you instead.”
He gives her a grin, responding to her declaration with a smile that carries all the rage and violence he keeps constantly in check. “Let’s get to it.”
He presses the gun containing the Keres bullets into my hand, closing my fingers around it with his big, gentle hands, but he doesn’t speak. There are so many things he isn’t saying. The look he gives me tells me he will protect Archer, no matter what she says. The way he glances at the gun reminds me there are two bullets, which means there is a spare if I get into trouble with one of the other Valkyrie.
And last…
He leans into me, not quite pressing his lips to mine. “I love you, Hunter Cassidy.”
I kiss him, a fierce kiss, before I slip out of his hold, deftly repositioning the gun in my hand. “I’ll see you both on the other side.”
My focus now is Amalia.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I break into a run and spread my wings. Strength flows through me as I rise into the air above the Valkyrie warriors, drawing on the power that comes from my wings. I’m about to tap into it like never before.
Behind me, Slade releases his wings and plucks Archer from her feet, lifting her high. She adjusts her weapons, giving him a quick nod before he swoops to the side with her, aiming for the edge of the army while I keep the center busy.
I have seconds to get to Amalia before the risen Valkyrie swarm me. Their ranks are far denser at the front, closely packed, the women waiting for the command to attack.
To kill Amalia, I need to hit her with both Keres and Valkyrie power at the same time. If it was as easy as shooting her, I could do it from a distance, but I need to get close to release my killing power.
She doesn’t know why she should be afraid of this gun, but she is smart enough to take Slade’s declaration seriously. As soon as I fly over the first row of Valkyrie soldiers, she beats her wings, turns, and soars away from me, her mismatched wings creaking as she flies in the direction of the island.
The soldiers don’t make a move yet, but I am their focus. Their faces are upturned, their eyes following me with the precision of an army that knows how to take down a single target with brutal efficiency. These women were trained for war. They’re simply biding their time, giving me a moment of hope to believe that I can reach Amalia before they crush me.
One of the generals shouts a command.
Ten rows back, a row suddenly kneels. The women in the row behind them sprint and springboard off their backs, gaining speed as they spread their wings and spear toward me.
At the same time, Amalia drops to the ground ahead, disappearing from sight among the ranks of women.
No! I’ve lost her already and there’s no way I can fly clear of the oncoming warriors. I can’t risk the attacking women disarming me—this gun is priceless—so I quickly slip the gun into my harness while I pull up hard. I take a fighting stance, bracing for impact mid-air. I still have a trick or two up my sleeve.
At the last possible moment, I blur, disappearing from her sight. Amalia knows how to blur but Mom never did. If the other Valkyrie know this trick, then so be it, but if they don’t, it will give me an advantage over them.
The warrior shouts, casting wildly around for me. Her surprised reaction tells me that blurring is not a common skill.
I feint right and slam my fist into her, landing a hard hit on her shoulder, sending her spinning across the field. She crashes into a row to my left, knocking others down as she falls.
My left fist swiftly collides with the next attacker in a swift movement,
sending her crashing through the ranks on the other side. Still blurred, I then duck and weave through the oncoming flying warriors, avoiding their wild attacks and landing solid hits on the next five—and the five after that. There are so many of them that I start to lose count. Even though they can’t see me, they don’t give up, quickly judging my location based on the position of my attacks. I fill my hands with killing power every time I make contact, not certain how long I can keep it up, but I’m not about to use half measures right now. Every hit I land has to have enough impact to send my attackers flying—and get me closer to Amalia.
I make it past seven rows. I only have about a twenty more. Every now and then I catch sight of Amalia flitting between the soldiers, her long hair flying behind her. She remains on the ground, choosing to run along the ashy surface, because she knows I can catch her in the air. Unlike Gareth, she is shrewd enough to work with her own weaknesses.
The two generals fly at the edges of my vision on either side of me, following the carnage I create as I go. The way they watch my flight makes me worried they can see through my blur. What’s more, I won’t be able to keep it up much longer. It’s draining more of my energy than I have left.
The general who is flying to my left suddenly shouts, and a rank of soldiers rises up far ahead of me. They don’t fly toward me; they hover in the air instead. The general shouts another order and the soldiers positioned directly ahead of me stay in position, but the ones at each end of the row fly forward with meticulous efficiency, rapidly curving around my position to form a wide ring around me.
They’re trying to box me in. I respond by flying higher, intending to sail over their heads, but the general shouts again and the soldiers swiftly rise to the same height.
Dammit, the generals can see through my blur. Blurring is draining too much of my energy now and I need everything to keep fighting. I crane my neck, frustrated to see Amalia progress through another three rows of women.
I let go of my blur, materializing in the center of the wide ring they have formed around me, taking a moment to scan the right side of the field for Slade and Archer. They’ve made it much further toward the island—only ten rows from the back—but the general to my right is shouting commands and the Valkyrie soldiers on the right flank have mobilized, swarming toward Slade in a mob. They will try to take him down with sheer force of numbers.
Slade responds by spinning and hoisting Archer into the air. She is ready, daggers raised, her targeted ascent sending her into the heart of the oncoming swarm. She makes the most of her air time, deftly slicing through throats and major arteries while avoiding their blades as she descends. As soon as she approaches the ground, she angles toward the nearest Valkyrie, using the woman as an unwilling springboard back into the air.
Archer may not have wings, but her body doesn’t seem to know it. She bounces back toward the sky as if her body knows she should be able to fly.
None of the Valkyrie have used their killing power yet, attacking with weapons instead, which means that they must not realize that Archer is Keres. She doesn’t have an aura and she hasn’t released her wings so they probably think she’s human. I only know she is Keres because Cain told me.
I can’t stop the grin that grows on my face. Their ignorance is a small mercy but I’ll take any mercies we can get right now.
Slade stays close to Archer’s position but, unlike her, he is a major target. He revealed his wings so the Valkyrie women know what he is—and they don’t like it. Even from here, I can hear their screams.
“Monster!”
“Aberration!”
They target him with their power, their fingers clawed like vultures.
He strikes back, single hits sending them flying toward the ground, where they don’t rise again. They won’t stay out forever, but a pile of them builds beneath his location.
In response to his strength, their attacks become more coordinated. While a group distracts him in front, two others target his back, specifically the vulnerable space between his wings—one of them springboards off the other to approach at rapid speed, timed perfectly between his wing beats. Her dagger thumps directly into his spine.
Slade roars, swinging to the woman with a ferocious fist that sends her sprawling to the ground with the others.
I remind myself that he will heal, that he is strong, but the fact that his protective suit didn’t stop the blade is bad news. These women dragged their bodies and their weapons up from a place of molten lava. Their steel must be infused with magic. It means my suit won’t stop their weapons either.
Archer responds to Slade’s shout by leaping up to catch hold of the nearest woman’s wing and flying between Slade and his next attacker, who is about to thump a second dagger into his lower spine. Archer’s own knife hits the woman’s eye, neatly aimed. I’ve never known anyone with knife skills like Archer. If anyone can hit a pinpoint target, it’s her.
The Valkyrie screams, clutching her face while Archer grabs Slade’s arm and shouts, “Down!”
Slade immediately drops to the ground with her, putting away his wings as soon as they touch down. Once there, Archer yanks the dagger from his back and positions herself so that they stand back to back facing the horde that circles around them.
I don’t have time to see more. I return my focus to the soldiers in front of me. I’m not going to wait for them to attack.
I retrieve my sword, the katana’s blade glinting in the firelight that emanates from the earth below us. Even the sunlight here is different, a copper glow that reminds me of Keres wings. If I were running hot like I used to, I would be dripping with sweat by now, but I run so cold that the heat coming off the ground makes me feel more alive than I have for months.
I angle my wings and soar toward the Valkyrie blocking my path directly ahead. They ready their swords and two of them fly forward to meet me. I spin to deflect the first soldier who tries to dart left and stab me from the side. Instead of using my sword, my boot meets her chest, propelling her backward. I use her body as leverage to propel myself high enough to fly over the head of the next woman, narrowly avoiding the tip of her blade.
The gap they left in the circle ahead quickly closes, but once again they expect me to fight with my sword. The soldier directly in front of me shouts as I angle backward and my foot connects squarely with her jaw, using her face as a springboard over the others who try to plug the gap. I don’t even feel bad about planting my boot in her face. She wouldn’t think twice about skewering me.
The general shouts from the side—her voice much closer to my location than I was hoping—and the soldiers on the ground mobilize, but not quite fast enough.
I tuck away my sword and roll mid-air, ducking and weaving as they nock arrows to their bows and fire at me. My wings are suddenly a liability since they offer a larger target. Arrows can’t pierce or damage them but three lodge between my feathers, upsetting my balance.
On the ground, Amalia is only ten rows ahead of me. If I fly fast enough, I can catch her.
Compensating for the arrows protruding from my wings, I angle toward her, but the Valkyrie abandon their orderly approach now. Thirty soldiers rise into the air immediately in front of me. I fly high to avoid the immediate barrier they pose, but they swarm after me, far too close for comfort. A dagger slices across the front of my leg; another cuts across my thigh. The steel burns through my protective suit and I scream.
I burst higher, but the nearest woman grabs my left wing and yanks me downward. A quick boot to her face forces her to let me go, but losing control of my wing causes me to lose momentum.
I flounder for a second. It’s long enough for another soldier to slice her blade across my other leg. I’m incredibly lucky my attackers haven’t cut my tendons, although no doubt that’s what they are aiming to do. If they had, I wouldn’t still have control of my legs.
Another two soldiers fly in at me from the side. I sacrifice one of my daggers, slamming it into the throat of the woman on the
left, ducking and rolling mid-air to fling my other dagger into the second woman’s chest.
The swarm closes in, but I’m determined to get to Amalia. She is only three seconds away now.
I reach deep for my power to fuel my flight, spearing toward her while I retrieve the Keres gun and take aim, stretching out my other hand to make contact with her shoulder as I dive toward her.
She glances back, jolting with surprise to see me so close to her position.
I reach for her, squeezing the trigger.
A force like a sledgehammer hits me from the side.
I catch sight of a deep purple breastplate—one of the generals—as I tumble through the air.
The bullet flies wide, buries deep in the ashy ground at the foot of a soldier. The spray of ash is the last thing I see as I crash hard to the ground, barely managing to tuck my head and turn my shoulder to take the impact.
I had counted on Amalia’s body cushioning my fall but now…
I hit the ash with a thud, my head connects with a rock, and the world goes dark.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I’m only out for a second. It’s long enough for the general to land on top of me, a knee to my chest, her fist knocking into my cheek before I can get my arms up to defend myself. She is tall, her shoulders broad, her black hair tied back in intricate braids, the sneer on her face cutting through her beauty.
I desperately look for the gun, locating it several paces away.
It’s too far away for me to reach it.
My wings spread across the ground, arrows protruding from them. Two warriors step onto my wings, breaking off the arrows to remove them, but they remain positioned on my wings, pinning me with their body weight.
Amalia gloats at the edge of a quickly forming circle of Valkyrie women, hovering over where I lie in the dirt.
I’m expertly immobilized by the fierce general. She hits me again, knocking my head so hard against the uneven ground—into the jagged coal—that my vision spins.