Justice, not Revenge

Chapter 9-Wylla

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Chapter 9-Wylla

                She screamed inside her head and instinctively threw up a shield in front of him. The shield blocked the bullet from hitting him and literally backfired on the sender. But as her concentration was taken up by protecting him, a sword slashed all the way down the leg.

                The pain that erupted in Wylla’s body made everything else fade away. It felt like her leg was on fire, constantly being sawed off by rusty, blunt and short knives. She swayed, almost forgetting to beat her wings; she was on the verge of collapsing.

                “Wylla!” shouted Sparrow, reaching for her.

                The remaining five half-faeries rounded on Sparrow, but he was so angry that the others were no match for him. He slashed and hacked, defending himself and Wylla from the enemy half-faeries.

                She felt dizzy; her head was spinning. The pain in her leg was growing stronger and she wished that it would just stop or she would faint or something. It was a better alternative than the torture her leg was giving her.

               Taking a deep breath, she pressed her fingers into the cut on her leg. She could fix the wound; she was a Healer.

                She rubbed her thumb and index finger together. Doing more than one of her magic powers at one time always exhausted her and being injured was not the time for her to be attempting that.

                Wylla concentrated harder, forcing herself to focus on her leg and not Sparrow who was defending her from the other half-faeries; she had put no shield around herself.

                A small golden spark formed between her fingers and sunk into her leg. She screamed in pain as the cut began to knit itself back together slowly.

               Her concentration slipped and her wings gave way as she struggled to maintain two separate shields; one around Sparrow and one around the truck. She was also trying to heal herself at the same time, but if she was going to die, she wanted... no, she needed to save the others.

               “Wylla!” shouted Sparrow and dived to catch her.

             He caught her just before she hit the ground, hovering about an inch above the ground, some way away from the truck which was still racing away. Darius sat in the bed, silver sparks flowing into Arwen’s skin.

             Wylla glanced up and saw that three of the half-faeries were still alive. They dove at the couple of the ground, swords extended.

            Sparrow slammed aside a blade with his sword, still supporting Wylla with his left hand. The remaining three half-faeries were obviously the most experienced as well.

            Just as Sparrow parried another stroke, a sword flicked up at the back of his throat. He froze, wondering if Wylla still had the shield around him. Before either one of them could react, a telekinesis force ripped the three half-faeries into the air and skewered one of them with a tree trunk.

             Darius, Wylla thought. It was the only explanation. Neither she nor Sparrow could have dealt with that half-faerie.

             “Get her back to the truck, Darius!” Sparrow shouted; he had had the same idea.