Battle With Fire by K.F. Breene

Ten

Charity stoodat the front of the gathering and looked at the assembled troops. Shifters in animal form waited in a horizontal line of ten, facing the portal within the shifter compound. Two lines of warrior fae stood beyond them. After that stood a row of grim-faced mages, the Bankses included. They wouldn’t be kept away, no matter their age…or sweat suit clothing choices.

This crew wasn’t their full arsenal by a long shot, but these individuals had been handpicked for their experience, power, and determination under fire. They didn’t need many right now—they needed a quick, hard punch to create an opening, and then intense cover while Reagan and the others made the journey into the Brink.

Roger stood halfway between their people and the portal, nude and waiting for word. He faced the two constantly arguing Seers, who stood to Charity’s right. Romulus stood beside Roger with a composed though expectant expression on his face.

“We need time to get them through the portal,” Karen shouted at the Red Prophet.

A battle scene flickered through Charity’s mind, but she squinted to clear it, not letting it materialize. Her visions were coming often, always changing, like a TV on the fritz. It was not normal for their kind, and given she was only half fae, she’d heard whispers questioning whether she could be trusted at all.

Short answer: no. Not when it came to predicting the future. Though the Red Prophet had said the frequency of the visions indicated the battle would likely be coming soon.

Well, no shit.

“Hey,” she said to Roger and Romulus as she approached.

“It is a fine line between enough time…and too much time.” The Red Prophet looked at the sky. “We have made a huge boon today, though only one will have realized it, and he ain’t talking.”

Karen slammed her hand down on the TV tray propped up in the dirt. Her crystal ball jumped. A few tarot cards fluttered in the breeze. The left side of her folding chair dug into a soft patch. “I don’t care about what happened earlier; I care about what will happen in ten to twenty minutes. My child is approaching this portal from the other side with her merry band of idiots, and I need to get her help so that she can make it through. Focus.”

“Yes. I can see how this might be a troubling time for you,” Red Prophet said slowly, as if she was trying to calm Karen down. The two were like cats and dogs, the rabid variety.

“Hello,” Romulus said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was always happy to see her, which was miraculous, since nobody else was happy at all. The other warrior fae weren’t just questioning her visions but the whole enterprise. Apparently they’d forgotten the elves’ mistreatment and their trespasses against both Charity and Romulus.

Of course, since most of them had been hiding in the Flush, they’d only heard about those things secondhand. They probably thought Romulus had made it up to support her.

Whatever the case, her people were shaken up, but there wasn’t much she could do about it at this point but stay the course. This had to be done for the good of all.

“How are you?” her father asked, which meant she’d at least mastered the fae art of appearing not to give a shit. She was getting very, very good at hiding her extreme anxiety and turmoil over what was to come.

“Great.” And she’d gotten very good at lying, too. “Everyone is primed and ready. It doesn’t sound like they have an exact time—”

“Five minutes,” the Red Prophet yelled, and put out her hands before bending to the side and windmilling her arms. She went all in with the dramatics when she did this stuff. It was tough to take after a while.

Karen’s lips pressed into a hard line, and it came as little surprise when she started shuffling her deck. Wind whirled up from the flat ground, bringing the smell of cultivated lands and the distant cows. This was a working ranch in some respects, but thankfully there was so much acreage that the shifter predators could move about freely—or congregate around the portal—without disturbing the livestock.

With a sudden movement, Karen slapped a few cards down, her gaze straight ahead. Her eyes flicked downward and then shifted back and forth, reading her cards. She nodded with a sigh. “Five minutes. From…”

“Now!” the Red Prophet called.

“N—” Karen scowled at her. She clearly couldn’t be rid of the fae Seer soon enough. They’d probably both retire after this.

Romulus looked at the waiting force before stepping away and gracefully pulling his sword. Roger’s skin bubbled and boiled as he reduced down into a large wolf, much bigger than his natural counterpart. Charity felt the song of battle pick up on the breeze. She looked through her people to find Devon just behind, a big black wolf working his way up the ranks. He wasn’t ranked highly enough to be standing up here with them yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be long.

His yellow-eyed gaze bored into hers, and excitement and anticipation washed through their magical link, fueling her adrenaline and strengthening her resolve. Her answering confidence swayed back to him. She didn’t know about the visions, and she couldn’t help what her people thought of her, but fighting and battle had always made sense in a way that required no description. It was in her blood. Before long, her people would realize that. The shifters already had.

She turned to face the portal, on the other side of Roger from her father, and drew her sword. The song of battle increased. A vision flickered through her mind, but she cut it off and chased it away. Not now.

“Three minutes…” Karen called, staring at her watch. Her muscles were tight and her eyes hard.

“The elves are turning one by one, hurrah, hurrah,” the Red Prophet sang softly, still bent over but her outstretched arms still now. Lines formed around her eyes, squeezed shut. “The elves are spooking one by one, hurrah, hurrah. The elves are prancing one by one, the heir will come and cut their fun, and we’ll all go marching down, to the field, to chop out their hearts.”

“That went downhill fast,” Charity murmured.

The Red Prophet started in on a spirited rendition of the next part of the song, but Charity focused on the battle drums in her mind, beating in time to her heart. The world went still and all sounds ceased for her but for that drum. But for the inner song of battle flowing on the breeze.

“One minute, counting down,” Karen said over the Red Prophet’s singing.

The Red Prophet cut herself off abruptly, then said, “It will be she that saves the day. Not with the sword. But with the soul.”

“I didn’t See that,” Karen replied. “I don’t even know who you are talking about.”

“You don’t See all, and soon that will be very apparent to all who matter,” the Red Prophet replied.

“Keep it up and you won’t See anything. You’ll be too busy falling from someplace high. You might heal fast, but when all your insides are on the outside, I doubt you’ll heal fast enough.”

“Threats. What fun.”

“Thirty seconds,” Karen shouted, her frustration and anger at the Red Prophet drowning out her worry for her daughter. She might not know it, but the Red Prophet’s antics were actually helping her push through the fear for her child.

“Go!”

Charity took off running, shoving through the portal at the same time as Roger and Romulus. Magic sucked at her energy and ran its claws across her middle, but she ignored it out of practice. A swell of enemy appeared before her amid the puffy green trees and colorfully speckled flowers on the sides of a limestone path. At least four dozen elves waited there, their power thrumming around them, and a troop of centaurs waited to the side, swords in hands and hooves stamping. Looked like Vlad hadn’t grabbed them all. Some were still loyal to the crown.

Two large forms flew through the air, great wings beating at the sky. Sun shone off their glittering scales, and smoke curled from their great maws, curling upward. Dragons. Holy shit, they were fantastic. Charity was suddenly incredibly envious of the people sitting on their backs, leaning over to look at what was unfolding down below.

Charity rushed forward as their people gushed through the portal behind them, traveling in twos and threes. She pulled her sword to the side, ready to swing at the back of the first elf, when the blue dragon roared. The sound vibrated off her body before digging inside, freezing up her muscles and clamping her jaw shut. The white dragon swooped down, belching fire at the gathering enemy. It seared across the lines, blistering skin and forcing out high-pitched wails of agony.

The roar stopped, and Charity unstuck her feet from the ground, shaking and suddenly winded. Crap, that was intense. She’d had no idea they could do that.

“Marshal your will to overcome the dragon’s magic,” Romulus yelled through the din. “Except the fire—will alone won’t keep you from burning to death.”

The elves at the front threw up their hands, and the dragons’ great wings stilled for a moment before tilting away from the onslaught of magic, each turning in a different direction.

“They’ve assembled a lot of power here,” Halvor yelled from behind as more of their people pushed through the portal. “They must’ve known the heir and the dragons were coming. We have to take out these elves.”

Fire erupted from the pale orange sky, and only then did Charity see the third dragon, smaller than the others and pink, with a musclebound man on its back. The fire cut through the line of elves, sending them running. This dragon’s fire wasn’t as powerful, however, and only a few perished in the blast. The rest scattered, spreading out, giving the dragons less of a tightly focused target. It did the trick against the elves’ attack, though, cutting it off so the larger dragons could regain their composure and lift higher into the sky.

A lion’s roar reverberated through Charity, signaling that Steve was on the scene and ready to go. She grinned maniacally, cutting into the back of one elf before kicking the chest of another so she could land a kill strike on a third.

Another dragon roar loosened Charity’s bowels, and she clenched and balled up a little, worried she’d crap herself right here on the battlefield. What her dad had said echoed through her mind—marshal your will. She fought the effect of the roar as a dagger enlarged in her field of vision.

She dodged the strike and swiped with her sword before rolling across the ground and popping back up. The dagger now lay on the ground with the elf’s arm. Roger snarled before lunging, tearing out its throat.

Another group of elves to her right were poised to throw more spells at the dragons. These ones conveyed a confidence that suggested they actually had some experience. Maybe they were old enough to have fought in the last battle with Lucifer. They’d be trouble for him in the coming conflict.

She ran that way as the figures on the dragons above jumped, falling through the air.

Charity knew one moment of blind terror, worrying that the elves had thrown the riders to their deaths, and then the figures dramatically slowed within ten feet of the ground. Reagan had them.

A sword sliced through the air, and Charity barely spun in time. The blade cut through her skin, pain welling up and sending tingles down to her fingers. Fucking ouch.

Devon flew through the air, his paws hitting the elf in the chest and his teeth clamping over its face. He ripped his strong neck from side to side as he took the elf down, wrenching the head loose. That ended that problem.

Charity threw up her hand and called down lightning as more elves turned toward them, finally registering that the attack wasn’t just from the front and now splitting their forces.

Good. That had been the plan.

Reagan and team pushed forward from the front, clearly targeting the strongest elves in order to protect the dragons. Bodies started flying upward, thrown by an unseen hand. The blue dragon dipped down and snatched one out of the sky with its big teeth, chomping and ending the screams. Another dropped down beyond the crowd. The blue dragon let out another roar, slowing the roiling mass of bodies, then rained down fire.

Charity hacked through two elves, paused for Devon to take down a third, and caught sight of the druid coming toward them, aiming for the same force of elves they were battling. Sword moving so fast it was a blur, he walked forward as though marching through the jungle, determined though graceful, hacking through elves as if they were nothing more than vines. Her small hairs stood on end at the display, his cool efficiency with killing something she’d never seen before, not even with Halvor.

Another stream of fire rained down from the sky, rolling over Penny and Emery as they shot magic at their foe. It enveloped them but didn’t hinder their progress. They were obviously protected by Reagan. The elves around them, however, were burned to a crisp.

Reagan ran through the middle of a cluster to Charity’s right, throwing invisible knives and stabbing with an invisible sword. Hellfire bloomed from her hand, punching through an elf in front of her. An elf to the side of her froze and then squirmed before its body flattened in a spurt of entrails. Gross.

A centaur barreled through three fae, their swords slicing down its side but not stopping it. It thundered toward Reagan, his horse shoulder at head height and his long sword held at the ready. Charity sent a ball of lightning zipping across the melee. It smashed into his bare chest, and lightning erupted all over his body before the magic turned to fire. He screamed and stopped, beating at himself and dropping his sword.

With a sweep of Reagan’s hand, his head was lopped off and fell to the ground. She glanced Charity’s way and bent her head, a small bow in thanks.

Another roar that threatened to loosen Charity’s bowels distracted her attention before she renewed her determination, running at a group of elves pushing toward Emery and Penny.

Charity sliced through one’s back, pulled her sword back, and stabbed through another’s chest. She pulled down the lightning, stabbing them in the heads with electricity as the natural dual-mages shot spells at the centaurs.

A huge roar echoed through the landscape, larger than any dragon, vibrating in her ears and turning her blood to ice.

She snapped her head right to see a huge T. rex stomp down, its big foot passing through the middle of a centaur. A magical distraction, then. Callie and Dizzy had stepped up their game with its size and sound.

Steve the lion pushed up to her side and lunged, smashing into an elf that had been intent on sending Charity into the afterlife. It screamed, showing its teeth, before the lion smashed into it. Devon was there a moment later, taking out another elf that had been running for help.

Charity needed to pull herself together. She’d thought she was ready for battle. She’d thought she was experienced enough to be an incredible asset. She had to stop getting frozen up by dragons and distracted by large-scale magic!

Another plume of fire rained down on the right, followed by a burst on the ground, Reagan working seamlessly with her dragon. Cahal strutted toward two centaurs, swinging his sword over his head and slamming it into the holster strapped to his back. He shrugged out a bow from who knew where, followed by an arrow from the sheath next to his sword, and then nocked and shot in one incredibly fast, smooth motion.

One centaur reared up in shock and got an arrow in his underside. Another arrow, nocked and shot inhumanly fast, blossomed in the neck of the second.

Charity sprinted and ducked, running under a third centaur while stabbing upward. Hot liquid spilled down on top of her, and she dove and rolled as the creature screamed and stomped her hooves. She’d rather not be trampled by a horse-woman, thanks.

Back up in a flash, she sliced off a foot and dodged a kick, seeing Devon in trouble with another centaur. The bastards were big, and given that Cahal still hadn’t taken his two down despite peppering them with arrows, they were obviously tough to kill. She dodged another flailing kick, pushed in, and stabbed again, tearing the underside out. That had to do it.

Devon yelped as a hoof took him in the hindquarters, and molten fear cut through her. Dodging an elf, ducking around Cahal, she dropped her sword and slammed her hands together. Hellfire shot out, blistering in its intensity, and struck Devon’s attacker on the right shoulder. She ripped it down and across, cutting the thing in half.

Cole the yeti roared, lumbering over to protect his alpha, but it was done. The top half of the bare-chested woman slid off the bottom, ruining a pair of very nice breasts. Sorry, lady. You chose the wrong side.

Charity picked up her sword, and Steve joined the yeti, targeting the final centaur on this side of the battle. They didn’t need her help, so she looked for the next elf to strike.

Bodies littered the ground. Her dad stood among them across the way, Halvor at his back, bloody and disheveled. Roger was up near the natural dual-mages, his sides heaving as he caught his breath, and Emery and Penny seemed to be doing what she was: looking for another fight. Reagan and the monster version of Darius stood in the middle of a group of downed centaurs, both smeared with blood. The two of them were a helluva force to be reckoned with.

Silence descended on the battlefield as the dragons flew overhead.

They’d won their victory, but it was only the first in what would surely be a long, grueling fight.