Shadowsinger

Chapter 29

Her sword became an extension of her arm, her very soul as she moved, each blow calculated, but she was getting nowhere, for each male she got past, there were two more, and then they caged her in, attacking from all sides. Dimly, she realized she must have missed some on her way in, she'd rushed, hadn't fully understood the situation, and now she would pay with her life. 

"Gwyn!" Her heart stopped, 

"Az!" She couldn't tell if he was screaming for help, for her to run, or just trying to see that she was alive, but she couldn't stand it. She refused to die. These males would not take the one of the only things she had ever truly wanted from her, they would not take the first future she had ever wanted to fight for. But fight she would have to, harder, faster, stronger than ever before, or it would all slip away. 

But there were too many of them, too many, too many, too many. Gwyn stumbled as one slammed his shoulder into her, another shoving her backwards, then sideways, then back again, and forwards. She registered Azriel screaming for her again, but his voice was dim, distant somehow, a step away from the fight, from her. They were toying with her, they could have killed her with each one of those shoves, they weren't going to kill her, that's why Azriel was screaming, because he couldn't save her this time, she had to save herself. Fighting the urge to double over and heave up her guts, she closed her eyes, allowing a male to shove her forwards, towards another, but this time, this time she brought her sword up, the shocked look on his face as he glanced down to see the blade emerging from his side was enough to make her pull the sword out, reverse her grip and plunge it into the gut of a second male behind her. She smirked at a third, a sense of power rippling along her veins at the paleness of his face, the way he stepped back under her attention. 

The sounds of fighting nearby had stopped. Over her shoulder, Gwyn grinned at Rhys slamming into the closet rebels, death flowing in his wake, but it was too crowded for him to unleash that deadly power, for Cassian or Azriel to use their own power except with individual opponents. He focused on her, but Gwyn gestured towards the thicker fighting,

"Help them!" She shouted, "I'm fine," and she was, for once, she really was, she didn't need Azriel to save her, or Mor, she didn't need Emerie to carry her, Nesta to stand up for her, she didn't need that, she would defend herself. Never again they'd said, never again would she be weak or vulnerable, she was strong now, and it was the males attacking her who should be afraid. Azriel and Cassian had gotten her to this point, and it was her chance to return the favor. A path cleared before her, the arc of her sword promising death to any who stepped inside it, and the rebels melted away, cut down or running she didn't care. She could see him now, could see the blood splattered across his leathers, the cobalt light flaring from his siphons, the shadows swarming in his wake. She grinned, there he was, fighting like the warrior-god he would one day be hailed as, and he was hers, she'd chosen him, and he'd chosen her. He'd saved her before, more than he realized, and now he needed her, she would not let him down. But she was still too far away, to far away to do anything but scream his name as a sword arced high in the air, the blade starting to fall, aimed to sever his wings, his beautiful wings. Tears filled her eyes at the flash of sunlight on the steel, and then darkness. One moment Rhys was across the trail, then he was there, sword flashing to fell the male threatening his brother. Gwyn heard herself let out a sob of relief, and Azriel was turning, facing Rhys with wide eyes, moving towards him as something moved, hurtling towards them, but it was too late.

Rhys hit the floor with a deafening crash, the spear protruding from his side lacking the glint of steel, and Gwyn's breath caught. Ash. They'd used ash. In another heartbeat she was beside them, Cassian still fighting to protect them, and then he was there. With the four of them together he didn't have to hold back, bathing the half mile radius in crimson light, spearing for the remaining rebels, a shield protecting them from the killing might of his power. But Gwyn hardly noticed, she just pressed her hands to Rhys' side, her breathing coming in shallow gasps now as the full weight of the fight hit her.