As the knight forced himself through her barrier, Spark darted to the side and nocked another arrow. She sighted down it, pulled back, and let the arrow fly. It was a good shot, fast and true. Halfway to the Black Knight the shaft dipped, suddenly encased in ice. It plummeted out of the sky to bury itself uselessly in the bright green moss.
Aran appeared from the shadows behind the knight, his blades at the ready. He stabbed, and the Black Knight let out a growl. Clearly one of Aran’s knives had connected. But now he had an enraged knight attacking him at close range. He ducked the swishing sword, then kept going, tucking himself into a roll that brought him past their adversary. Aran rose beside her, knives crossed warily.
The knight turned, and Spark smiled a grim smile. Aran had neatly manipulated him so that Spark had a clear shot at his helm.
She set another arrow to the string. As she released it, she summoned an earth spell. Two more arrows appeared alongside her first, made of wood and ore and fine fletching. The first one dipped, then fell out of the air, heavy with ice.
The second was incinerated by a glowing ball of magic.
The third arrow wobbled, off center, and struck the Black Knight in the neck. He roared, then charged them, fast as black lightning.
Spark threw up her hands, but she had no more spells to summon. Aran faded back—too slow, too slow. With sick horror, Spark watched the knight’s enormous blade swing, slicing right for Aran’s middle.
“No!” she cried, leaping.
She hit the knight’s armored side, and it was cold and hard, like flinging her body against black ice. Aran let out a cry of pain and doubled over, dropping his knives. He clutched his side, then took one hand away. It was red and slick with blood.
“Sorry, Spark,” he gasped.
The queen laughed.
“Hold her,” she commanded, brushing past Spark.
Three goblins leaped to do their queen’s bidding. Their claws dug into Spark’s arms and legs, and one of them gave her an ugly, sharp-toothed grin.
Her heartbeat banged through her, but she forced herself to breathe. To wait. She had a few more tricks, but the timing had to be just right. The queen was planning to… Spark squeezed her eyes shut, then made herself open them again. The queen would sacrifice Aran. If Spark remembered correctly, a few ritualistic things had to happen first.
An unearthly fire kindled in the center of the faerie ring. Its flames burned sapphire and azure and deepest indigo, casting eerie, writhing shadows against the trees. The queen smiled, fierce and terrible, then turned to Aran.
“Now, BlackWing, you will pay the price.”
She reached into the midnight folds of her gown and drew out a long black thorn. Spark tensed.
Chanting harsh syllables, the queen passed her thorn above the blue flames. They leaped hungrily. Once. Twice. Thrice.
The Dark Queen whirled, lifting the black thorn high above Aran’s heart. In that moment, Spark transformed, her limbs compacting and shrinking, her vision flattening, losing its color. Four-footed, she sprang out of the goblins’ grasp.
Her teeth closed on the queen’s arm, and the Dark Queen shrieked—a sound born more of anger than of pain. Spark’s mouth burned from the queen’s blood. She couldn’t hold on…
She fell, back in human form, to sprawl beside Aran on the moss.
“The apple,” he hissed, face taut with pain.
Spark conjured it and brushed her fingers over the top.
“Help us,” she whispered. There was no time for specifics.
The apple split and flared, then disappeared. She looked up, and gasped as the Black Knight’s sword cleaved down upon her.
“Spark!”
With a cry of pain, Aran heaved himself up and threw himself into the path of danger, covering her body with his own. She felt the sickening thud of impact as the knight’s blow connected. Aran stiffened and cried out again. Then, slowly, his head dropped to her shoulder, his whole body going limp. She could feel the wetness of his blood seeping into her vest.
“No!” Spark’s voice broke on the word. It couldn’t end like this.
“Forgive me, my queen, for robbing you of your sacrifice,” the Black Knight said.
“Fear not.” The queen ran her long pale fingers along the length of her thorn. “There is another.”
The queen gave Spark a look that turned her blood to pure ice. Aran lay unmoving across her, pinning her to the ground. They’d failed. Hot tears ran from the corners of her eyes.
They were both going to die there, in the Realm of Faerie, all their dreams undone..
Nine by Night: A Multi-Author Urban Fantasy Bundle of Kickass Heroines, Adventure, Magic
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE