After they had traveled a day, they stopped to rest. All was quiet in the camp and Aysel could not sleep. She wandered the camp, her wings twitching with nerves.
"Milady," said Faolán. "Ye must rest. We have a long march ahead of us."
"Aye, Faolán, thou art right. Yet, I feel Emyr's approach in my bones and I am wracked with fear that we have traveled in vain."
Before Faolán could reply, an arrow tore through the tent beside him, setting it ablaze. Over the crest of a landing, poured the goblin horde, Emyr at the front.
Grabbing their weapons, the faeries moved to attack.
"Hide in one of the tunnels!" cried Faolán, withdrawing his sword and flying to the attack.
"I am no delicate butterfly, Faolán." replied Aysel, hefting a battle axe and joining the fray.
Spying the queen, Emyr loaded another arrow. Taking aim, he released, sending the arrow through one of Aysel's wings. The wing ripped, sending her tumbling. Barely able to stop the free-fall, she found herself above the abyss with nothing to save her. Fighting against the pain in her wing, she struggled upward, flitting, drunkenly, toward Emyr.
"You thought you would call upon the Dragons for aid, Aysel? Where are your Dragons?" he barked, chortling.
"You will not speak to my Queen in that manner!" cried Faolán, darting toward the Goblin King, his weapon held high to strike.
Quick as a snake, Emyr shot Faolán, his arrow hitting with a sickening thud. The Faery knight looked shocked for a moment before tumbling into the black chasm.
"Faolán!" cried Aysel, moving too late to catch him.
Turning toward Emyr, Aysel held her battle axe aloft, her undamaged wings fluttering frantically to keep her balanced. The glow of the sconces seemed to set her wings ablaze and her apricot hair seethed like raging flames about her alabaster face. Her damaged wing hung, limply, at her side, throwing her off kilter no matter how she tried to steady herself.
The Goblin King smiled, his teeth gleaming, and lifted his bow again.
"Aye, ye look the radiant Queen, and fierce too. But I will have you, Aysel, and your whole court as well. You cannot frighten me with mythos and old wives' tales."
"Nay, good Emyr, I'll have none of thee, nor thy ilk, to sully my court. Mythos, say thee? I awaken no myth." Raising her face toward the unseen ceiling, Aysel lifted her voice in a scream to shake the very halls of the city.
He roared with laughter, lowering his bow to clasp his ribs.
"You think I'll be unnerved by howling in ancient halls? I have drawn wails the likes of which would set your pretty hair on end. Scream away, Aysel. You will be mine if I have to tear the wings from your body."
Without warning, the earth beneath his feet gave a jolt. Emyr looked down, into the abyssal labyrinth below him, before looking back into the plum hued eyes of the Faery Queen. She smiled as the whole cave began to tremble and the stone floor began to roll. From the belly of the old city rose a roar and Emyr was tossed back as a mighty wind rushed upward and out. Swept up in a surging tidal wave of motion, Aysel foundered and was thrown upward. Unable to right herself, she tumbled back down.
Coming up out of the chaos, a clawed hand caught her, holding her in a loose grip as it moved toward the mouth of the cavern. She saw only a glimpse of burnished gold, polished ivory and the frightened face of the Goblin King before she was taken by a swoon.
"Milady," said Faolán. "Ye must rest. We have a long march ahead of us."
"Aye, Faolán, thou art right. Yet, I feel Emyr's approach in my bones and I am wracked with fear that we have traveled in vain."
Before Faolán could reply, an arrow tore through the tent beside him, setting it ablaze. Over the crest of a landing, poured the goblin horde, Emyr at the front.
Grabbing their weapons, the faeries moved to attack.
"Hide in one of the tunnels!" cried Faolán, withdrawing his sword and flying to the attack.
"I am no delicate butterfly, Faolán." replied Aysel, hefting a battle axe and joining the fray.
Spying the queen, Emyr loaded another arrow. Taking aim, he released, sending the arrow through one of Aysel's wings. The wing ripped, sending her tumbling. Barely able to stop the free-fall, she found herself above the abyss with nothing to save her. Fighting against the pain in her wing, she struggled upward, flitting, drunkenly, toward Emyr.
"You thought you would call upon the Dragons for aid, Aysel? Where are your Dragons?" he barked, chortling.
"You will not speak to my Queen in that manner!" cried Faolán, darting toward the Goblin King, his weapon held high to strike.
Quick as a snake, Emyr shot Faolán, his arrow hitting with a sickening thud. The Faery knight looked shocked for a moment before tumbling into the black chasm.
"Faolán!" cried Aysel, moving too late to catch him.
Turning toward Emyr, Aysel held her battle axe aloft, her undamaged wings fluttering frantically to keep her balanced. The glow of the sconces seemed to set her wings ablaze and her apricot hair seethed like raging flames about her alabaster face. Her damaged wing hung, limply, at her side, throwing her off kilter no matter how she tried to steady herself.
The Goblin King smiled, his teeth gleaming, and lifted his bow again.
"Aye, ye look the radiant Queen, and fierce too. But I will have you, Aysel, and your whole court as well. You cannot frighten me with mythos and old wives' tales."
"Nay, good Emyr, I'll have none of thee, nor thy ilk, to sully my court. Mythos, say thee? I awaken no myth." Raising her face toward the unseen ceiling, Aysel lifted her voice in a scream to shake the very halls of the city.
He roared with laughter, lowering his bow to clasp his ribs.
"You think I'll be unnerved by howling in ancient halls? I have drawn wails the likes of which would set your pretty hair on end. Scream away, Aysel. You will be mine if I have to tear the wings from your body."
Without warning, the earth beneath his feet gave a jolt. Emyr looked down, into the abyssal labyrinth below him, before looking back into the plum hued eyes of the Faery Queen. She smiled as the whole cave began to tremble and the stone floor began to roll. From the belly of the old city rose a roar and Emyr was tossed back as a mighty wind rushed upward and out. Swept up in a surging tidal wave of motion, Aysel foundered and was thrown upward. Unable to right herself, she tumbled back down.
Coming up out of the chaos, a clawed hand caught her, holding her in a loose grip as it moved toward the mouth of the cavern. She saw only a glimpse of burnished gold, polished ivory and the frightened face of the Goblin King before she was taken by a swoon.
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