A Court of Light and Melody

Chapter 18 - Keep Surviving

"There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me."

- Jane Austen

Song: Survivor - 2WEI

All hell broke loose. It didn't seem to take Michail, Grisham, and Iason more than a few seconds to wake and realize exactly what was happening.

"Fuck! Kostas!" roared Grisham, no doubt spotting his unconscious comrade.

Gwyn stood rooted to the spot, watching Alma help Harper to her feet. Her mind screamed at them to get a move on and start running. That's what they should do. But what should Gwyn do?

Should she run and not look back? Did she scream for help? What was she supposed to do again?

Gwyn. Azriel said that Grisham was yours.

Right. The arrogant one.

Gwyn whirled back towards the camp.

"Shit, it's the fucking shadowsinger," hissed Michail.

Gwyn watched doe eyed as Azriel slammed the hilt of Truth-Teller into Iason's temple. The male fell limply to the ground.

Azriel twisted his wrist in the direction of Michail, his shadow's dispatching and coiling around the male's body so tightly that he was struggling not to topple to the ground. Azriel was crossing to the writhing male when his eyes met Gwyn's and widened.

"Gwyn, on your right!" he shouted.

Her head whipped to the right, to see a tall and imposing figure staggering towards her.

Oh, right. Grisham.

She reached for her dagger, then remembered it was with Harper and Alma. Looking over her shoulder she could see their retreating forms - her hand reached for one of the knives on her hip.

And that was all the distraction Grisham needed to make his move.

When Gwyn turned her attention back to the male, his hand was reared back. It came down towards her face. The priestess leaned away, her flexibility aiding her in getting almost out of reach. Almost.

Grisham's knuckles made contact with her chin instead of the side of her face, but it was with enough force to knock her to the ground.

She was lying on her back, head resting on the damp leaves, chin throbbing.

"Gwyn!" Azriel yelled.

It was like his voice had shocked her back into her body. She threw her legs up and out, hopping to her feet. When she faced Azriel, his expression was concerned and horrified... and distracted.

Michail had broken free of Azriel's shadows and was springing for him. He tackled Azriel to the forest floor with a loud thump.

She watched as they wrestled in a tangle of fists and wings, snarling viciously. Part of Gwyn urged her to help Azriel, but a stronger instinct commanded her to go after Grisham as the shadowsinger had instructed her. Azriel was over five-hundred years old. He could handle his thrashing opponent.

GO! Catrin shrieked.

Gwyn spun on her heel and saw that Grisham was speeding through the forest in the same direction that Alma and Harper had run. The priestess dashed after him.

"They'll likely fly overhead to try to find them if something goes wrong..."

If Grisham was in the sky, there was nothing Gwyn could do to defend Alma and Harper. And they were too far gone for her to catch up with and assist now.