I concentrated on the arrows coming from the enemy, throwing my hands higher to ensure the shield kept my people safe. Watching the arrows slam into the shimmering air where my shield was, feeling the bubble of its magic in my blood, I let out a slow breath when each arrow hit the shield, each deadly little missile smashed against my magic…
And didn’t continue through.
The arrows clattered on top of each other until there was a layer of wood and flint hovering above my army. I sent a ripple of motion through the shield, and the now harmless arrows jumped and scattered to one side of the field. I didn’t have a chance to check on the results of the volley against the Gastion. Another wave of deadly arrows whistled above. I raised my arms again, blocking the next attack successfully, keeping my people safe.
An injury wouldn’t end the battle. But a death, one death, any death would. The champion who failed, who couldn’t keep their people protected from enemy fire, lost the fight. Losing the fight meant losing everything and becoming subjects of our enemies. Subject to their whims and cruelties. Even their benevolence wouldn’t be enough to counter the destruction to our clan. The Gastion outnumbered us, three to one. We would eventually cease to be if I lost this fight.
I couldn’t lose.
The second volley of arrows met the same fate as the first, a pile of now useless wood at the side of the battlefield. I let out another breath and rolled my shoulders.
The next volley wasn’t made with arrows. Now came the magic, the spells, the power.
First a sphere of blue magic slammed against my shield, spreading in a wave of licking electrical lines across my protective powers, searching for an opening, a weakness. I firmed my stance and spread my arms out to the sides as I widened my shield, ensured it moved higher overhead.
I could extend the shield only so far. There were limits to what I could do. Limits to what the Gastion could do. That was the point. Who had the better shield. Who could keep everything the enemy threw at you out.
A flicker of the lines dancing over my shield to my right had me gasping, and I quickly threw a second shield up to block the sneaking magic. Holding more than one shield was always harder, dividing the magic into multiple layers to keep more sections of the army safe risked weakening the overall effect of each shield.
More magic flew at me. This from the leader herself. The Gastion ruler would be the most powerful magic wielder among her people. It was the only way to lead and remain in that position among the Fae. The MacMoor was our greatest wielder of magic as well. And when they cast their first attack, the enemy champion’s shield trembled.
He swung his hand in an arc and the visible blue of his shield strengthened, flickering here and there before solidifying. The MacMoor’s attack didn’t get through.
But seeing my opponent waiver under the onslaught from my people was heartening.
Another volley of arrows came toward us and all my concentration went to maintaining my defenses, holding the line. The attack intensified. More arrows, more magic from across their army. They had ten, twenty Fae with powerful magic, the kind of magic useful in a war. And they didn’t pause as they sent those attacks to test my own protective powers.
My sword trembled where I’d buried it in the ground a few yards in front of me. More magic channeled from the sky and earth into the sword, then flowed into me.
The sword was the focus, the way of pulling magic from Faery itself to help aid the defensive magic I used. The Gastion champion’s weapon was the same. His also drew that magic, strengthened his defenses. We were trained to be shields, to be defensive weapons. Our swords channeled the power we needed.
Seeing my sword vibrate with the magic I was drawing made my breath hitch. Fear? Uncertainty? Any of those would weaken my efforts. I dragged my gaze from the sword and focused on the increasing attack. Focused on just holding the shields. Still, with two instead of a single protective barrier, though, there were weaknesses in my defense. I needed to weave the two shields together.
But the enemy didn’t give me time.
The Gastion ruler joined her powerful mages, pummeling me with blast after blast of magic. From her, there were no longer any attack spells, no spells at all. Just pure, unfiltered magic. Wave after wave of it. Attack after attack of power slamming into me. The rawness of it, the strength, made my knees trembled. Slid me backward a few steps across the wet grass.
I braced my legs to hold steady and forced my arms higher, readjusting my shields to take all that power.
The pummeling made my shoulders ache. My arms shiver. I widened my stance so I wouldn’t fall to my knees. More power. More raw magic. No time to strengthen the two shields, to tie them together into a stronger barrier.
Gasping against the powerful attack, I tried to meld the two shields even as I used them to keep my people covered, but the power I was pulling through my buried sword from Faery itself, as well as what I drew from my own strength and inner resources, all of it was weakening. I could feel it. Feel the thinness of my barrier, tiny holes opening up.
From behind me, I was vaguely aware of my own people countering the attack, throwing all they had back at the Gastion’s shield. But I didn’t dare pay too much attention to what they were doing. All my concentration was on my defenses, defenses that weren’t strong enough, on the tremor racing through my muscles, making it harder to hold the shields up.
I felt more than saw the barrier shrinking toward me. Not enough power in it. Not enough skill. I dug deeper, pushed harder against the attack, dragged more power from the sword. I needed more. This wasn’t enough. I needed more.
Beneath me the ground shivered.
My sword waved like a thin tree caught in a gale.
Then a flickering to my left… My breath caught. A weakness in my defense, a tiny gap in between the two shields. Barely there. But there long enough…
An arrow flew through the hole. Toward my people.
Physical shields came up but they weren’t a match to the magic tipping these arrows, and the arrow pierced through several of them before burying into the ground.
One person held her arm as drips of blood fell from her wounded shoulder. But no one lay dead.
The wounded Fae, Immogen, waved away my terrified gaze, my silent question, assuring me she was fine. I let out a long breath, though I couldn’t relax my clenched teeth. I’d nearly failed. Nearly allowed someone to die.
We’d almost lost everything.
That terror would consume me and weaken my shield. The terror and the fear. I had to overcome it. That was the battle. The fight.
But I couldn’t. Everything in me clenched and tightened and the fear of what had nearly happened overwhelmed me. A terror greater than facing my own death. Knowing I was responsible for the loss of one of my people, that I couldn’t protect them…
No. I couldn’t lose one. I couldn’t lose a single person.
I would not let that happen.
The arrows flew, even as I poured my determination, my terror into my shield. I dragged more and more power through my sword, filtering it into my own power, using it to reinforce my shield. I started pulling from my inner magic stronger, everything I had went into strengthening my protections. Making sure none of my people were harmed. I no longer paid attention to what was happening with the Gastion champion because all my focus was on my sword, on building a stronger and stronger shield.
The sword continued to vibrate where it was imbedded in the ground, the thin blade waving, bending. Bending toward me. Almost as if I were pulling the sword toward me as I drew more and more power through it.
A line of visible magic now flowed through the hilt, powered into me, coming from the very foundations of Faery. I dragged it all into me, every last bit, all of it channeled into the shields.
And then, to my horror…
The sword shattered.