Riv stared at Asroth and the host of Kadoshim behind him, looked down at Aphra as she led a score or so of White-Wings to the aid of her warriors. Aphra had reached them, was leading an attack on acolytes, trying to forge a gap, buying time for her comrades to escape. With mounting horror Riv saw Asroth angle his descent towards the snarl of White-Wings and acolytes.
She sheathed her sword and slipped the black knife into her belt, unclipped her bow-case and grabbed a fistful of arrows, at the same time as her wings were beating, propelling her back towards Aphra, Asroth and the Kadoshim. Feathers brushed her cheek as she drew and loosed, her first arrow arcing towards Asroth, flying high, over his shoulder, punching into a Kadoshim behind him. Her second arrow was wide, another Kadoshim shrieked. Her third arrow she thought was aimed straight at Asroth’s chest, but his wings folded as he launched into a dive and the arrow hissed past him.
More arrows in her hand as she dipped into her own dive, loosing as she flew. One of her arrows hit Asroth in the shoulder, but it pinged off his mail shirt. Riv shouted a curse.
And then Asroth was crashing into White-Wings, scattering them, hurling many to the ground. He alighted amidst them, his black wings beating a storm that battered more to the ground, his whip snapping out, tearing flesh from bones.
A figure rose amidst the fallen White-Wings, a lone warrior holding a battered shield and a short-sword. Riv knew instantly that it was Aphra. Fear swept her and she beat her wings harder, slipping her bow back into its case.
Asroth’s whip cracked, iron claws biting into Aphra’s shield, Asroth dragging her towards him. Riv saw Aphra release her shield, run in behind it, using the momentum of Asroth’s tug. It took the Lord of the Kadoshim by surprise, and before he could do anything Aphra was within his guard, ducking under his short-sword and stabbing her own blade up, into his belly.
It was a perfect blow, struck with Aphra balanced, her weight and strength behind it, a manoeuvre that Aphra would have practised ten thousand times in the weapons-field.
The sword shattered, hurled Aphra onto her back.
Asroth’s whip cracked again, this time no shield to protect Aphra. Claws of sharp black iron bit into her, slicing through mail and leather, hooking into her flesh.
Riv heard her scream, echoed it with her own.
“MAM!”
Riv was close now, a hundred paces, her wings tucked, wind ripping at her hair.
Asroth dragged Aphra towards him, more screams, a thick trail of blood smeared across the ground as Aphra was dragged to his feet, and he sliced down with his short-sword.
Riv slammed into Asroth, hurling him away, sending him crashing to the ground. She spread her wings, checked her flight, swept back to where her mam lay upon the ground. Whip-cords were still wrapped around her, strips of flesh hanging, white bone glistening through the blood. Riv swiped at her eyes, blurred with tears, tried to loosen the cords, but Aphra cried out, a weak, broken sound.
“I’m sorry, Mam,” Riv said through her tears, tried to lift her in her arms, but Aphra cried out again. Riv knelt on the ground, cradled her mother’s head. “I’ve got to get you out of here,” she said.
Aphra stared up at her, eyes full of pain. A long, rattling sigh fading to nothing.
Riv looked up at the sky and howled.
A sound behind her, a mocking laugh.
Riv turned, saw Asroth standing over her.
“I want my whip back,” he said.
The red haze boiled inside Riv’s head, all else gone from her mind except for a raw, uncontrollable rage. She snarled, tears blurring her eyes, and hurled herself at the demon king.