Kachka stood, her legs braced on either side of Elina, able to see over the dragon because he was bent low to make sure he protected her sister with everything he had.
She raised her bow and readied her arrow, but before she could let loose her own fury, she saw monks. Two of them came through the trees, covered completely by their cowls and fur capes. But they weren’t like other monks who’d traveled through her lands. These two were burly, like small oxen. And like oxen, they battered into a few of her tribesmen, knocking horses and riders into the pit. A spear came at the taller of the two, but he expertly dodged it, caught the shaft with his hand, and yanked it away from the Rider. He turned the weapon and impaled the horse. As the poor animal crashed to the ground, he quickly reached down and touched it, his head lowered. He was chanting. First, the horse stopped moving. It was dead. Then . . . it wasn’t. With blood still gushing, it got to its feet and turned on the Rider, stomping and stomping until the Rider was no more than chunky red slime to be slipped in later.
Fascinated, Kachka lowered her weapon, unsure whether she should be terrified or thankful.
Then she heard the one cry that sent panic and fear through the strongest Rider’s soul.
“Kyvich! It’s the Kyvich!”
There were only three riding their demon beasts through the Riders, but when she was a child, Kachka had seen only two of the warrior witches take down an entire squadron of Quintilian soldiers who were under the delusion they’d found some weak females to amuse themselves with.
The three Kyvich were young, but strong. The one leading the way around the opposite side of the crevice from the monks didn’t even unsheathe her sword. She simply gestured to the trees, causing vines and limbs to shoot out, grabbing hold of Kachka’s fellow Riders and dragging them from their horses. Some were strangled by the vines, some impaled by the limbs. And some dragged off into who knew what horrors.
“Who are these people?” she finally asked the dragon.
He stood tall now, towering over her like a massive building, and blocking the rest of the destruction of her fellow tribesmen from her sight.
The dragon shrugged and replied, “They’re family.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Are you crying?” Talwyn fairly snarled at her younger cousin.
And, as Celyn expected, Rhian was direct and angry when she replied, “Do you think I wanted to do that? Do you think I get enjoyment from killing others?”
“I see some things have tragically not changed with you, cousin.”
Rhian stepped toward her cousin, her hand raised, more dark energy swirling around her. And Talwyn? With a disturbing half grin that reminded Celyn of Annwyl more than he cared to think about, she pointed her hand at the ground and green vines began to burst from the dirt.
Yet before Celyn could tell either of them to stop it, Talan stepped between the pair, his arms wrapping around Rhian.
“How I missed you, Rhi,” he said, easing the situation without raising his voice or the dead.
A pat against his thigh had Celyn turning.
“She is still alive,” Elina’s sister told him. “But blood continues to flow from the wounds.”
“Let me see,” one of the Kyvich said, barely sparing a glance for Celyn as she moved in.
“I do not want Kyvich near my sister.”
“Would you rather she bleed out?” the Kyvich snapped back.
“Please,” Celyn said. “Let her try . . . uh . . .”
“Kachka Shestakova of the—”
“Yesssss,” Celyn hissed. “Can we just agree on Kachka for now?”
“I’m Gisa,” the Kyvich said while she examined Elina’s neck. “It looks like her artery was nicked. I can fix this, I think. I just need a few things.”
Rhian stepped up next to Celyn, standing on one of the smaller boulders surrounding the one Elina lay upon. She pressed her hand against his side. “I have someplace we can take her. We’ll take good care of her, Celyn.”
“We should go,” Kachka said solemnly. “Those were just the men of the tribes. The women will be coming next, and then it will be bad for all of us.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Rhian glanced over at her cousin. “Right, Talwyn?”
“I take orders from you now?”
Rhian spun around, but Talan again quickly stepped between them. Something told Celyn his cousin would be doing that a lot from now on.
“Just do it,” Talan told his sister.
“Fine.”
Talwyn walked within a few inches of the gaping hole that had once been a nice piece of land and spread her arms toward the trees on either side. She began chanting, and the cold Steppes winds died abruptly, then rose again to swirl around her.
Celyn watched in fascination as the trees first grew tall and strong, then the limbs began to lengthen and spread out until they met in front of Talwyn. Branches twisted and turned together until they’d created a rather frightening-looking shield.
“Done,” Talwyn said as she walked toward them, appearing completely unfazed by the magicks she’d just wielded. “Let’s go.”
Celyn lowered himself to the ground and motioned to Talan. “Put Elina on my back.”
“I’ve got her,” the Kyvich said, carefully picking Elina up in her arms, and then climbing onto the top of the boulder. She stepped onto Celyn’s back, placed Elina down, and crouched beside her.
“I need a cloth,” she ordered her Kyvich sister.
She raised her bow and readied her arrow, but before she could let loose her own fury, she saw monks. Two of them came through the trees, covered completely by their cowls and fur capes. But they weren’t like other monks who’d traveled through her lands. These two were burly, like small oxen. And like oxen, they battered into a few of her tribesmen, knocking horses and riders into the pit. A spear came at the taller of the two, but he expertly dodged it, caught the shaft with his hand, and yanked it away from the Rider. He turned the weapon and impaled the horse. As the poor animal crashed to the ground, he quickly reached down and touched it, his head lowered. He was chanting. First, the horse stopped moving. It was dead. Then . . . it wasn’t. With blood still gushing, it got to its feet and turned on the Rider, stomping and stomping until the Rider was no more than chunky red slime to be slipped in later.
Fascinated, Kachka lowered her weapon, unsure whether she should be terrified or thankful.
Then she heard the one cry that sent panic and fear through the strongest Rider’s soul.
“Kyvich! It’s the Kyvich!”
There were only three riding their demon beasts through the Riders, but when she was a child, Kachka had seen only two of the warrior witches take down an entire squadron of Quintilian soldiers who were under the delusion they’d found some weak females to amuse themselves with.
The three Kyvich were young, but strong. The one leading the way around the opposite side of the crevice from the monks didn’t even unsheathe her sword. She simply gestured to the trees, causing vines and limbs to shoot out, grabbing hold of Kachka’s fellow Riders and dragging them from their horses. Some were strangled by the vines, some impaled by the limbs. And some dragged off into who knew what horrors.
“Who are these people?” she finally asked the dragon.
He stood tall now, towering over her like a massive building, and blocking the rest of the destruction of her fellow tribesmen from her sight.
The dragon shrugged and replied, “They’re family.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Are you crying?” Talwyn fairly snarled at her younger cousin.
And, as Celyn expected, Rhian was direct and angry when she replied, “Do you think I wanted to do that? Do you think I get enjoyment from killing others?”
“I see some things have tragically not changed with you, cousin.”
Rhian stepped toward her cousin, her hand raised, more dark energy swirling around her. And Talwyn? With a disturbing half grin that reminded Celyn of Annwyl more than he cared to think about, she pointed her hand at the ground and green vines began to burst from the dirt.
Yet before Celyn could tell either of them to stop it, Talan stepped between the pair, his arms wrapping around Rhian.
“How I missed you, Rhi,” he said, easing the situation without raising his voice or the dead.
A pat against his thigh had Celyn turning.
“She is still alive,” Elina’s sister told him. “But blood continues to flow from the wounds.”
“Let me see,” one of the Kyvich said, barely sparing a glance for Celyn as she moved in.
“I do not want Kyvich near my sister.”
“Would you rather she bleed out?” the Kyvich snapped back.
“Please,” Celyn said. “Let her try . . . uh . . .”
“Kachka Shestakova of the—”
“Yesssss,” Celyn hissed. “Can we just agree on Kachka for now?”
“I’m Gisa,” the Kyvich said while she examined Elina’s neck. “It looks like her artery was nicked. I can fix this, I think. I just need a few things.”
Rhian stepped up next to Celyn, standing on one of the smaller boulders surrounding the one Elina lay upon. She pressed her hand against his side. “I have someplace we can take her. We’ll take good care of her, Celyn.”
“We should go,” Kachka said solemnly. “Those were just the men of the tribes. The women will be coming next, and then it will be bad for all of us.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Rhian glanced over at her cousin. “Right, Talwyn?”
“I take orders from you now?”
Rhian spun around, but Talan again quickly stepped between them. Something told Celyn his cousin would be doing that a lot from now on.
“Just do it,” Talan told his sister.
“Fine.”
Talwyn walked within a few inches of the gaping hole that had once been a nice piece of land and spread her arms toward the trees on either side. She began chanting, and the cold Steppes winds died abruptly, then rose again to swirl around her.
Celyn watched in fascination as the trees first grew tall and strong, then the limbs began to lengthen and spread out until they met in front of Talwyn. Branches twisted and turned together until they’d created a rather frightening-looking shield.
“Done,” Talwyn said as she walked toward them, appearing completely unfazed by the magicks she’d just wielded. “Let’s go.”
Celyn lowered himself to the ground and motioned to Talan. “Put Elina on my back.”
“I’ve got her,” the Kyvich said, carefully picking Elina up in her arms, and then climbing onto the top of the boulder. She stepped onto Celyn’s back, placed Elina down, and crouched beside her.
“I need a cloth,” she ordered her Kyvich sister.
