Forging Silver into Stars

At first I don’t know where the screams are coming from. My heart has been pounding so loud for so long that I almost can’t recognize anything else. I only have one arrow left, and the king has gone to his knees with yet another arrow in his leg. We can barely see past the press of soldiers. But for a moment, I catch a glimpse of a man on the hill with a little girl with red hair clutched against the front of his body. I see Tycho tackle him before taking an arrow himself.

Then a dark winged creature soars out of the sky to rip the toddler right out of the soldier’s arms.

“Nakiis,” says the king, and he doesn’t sound panicked. He sounds relieved.

The answer comes on a blast of cold wind. “Your daughter is safe, magesmith.”

Suddenly, the man is wide open, his arms bleeding from whatever the winged creature did to him. He’s still got a dagger in one hand, and I watch him turn on Tycho. He’s wearing a breastplate, and he’s at least seventy-five yards away, but I can see every inch of exposed skin.

I have one arrow left.

I know soldiers who can’t hit a target at that distance.

I’m shooting before I even mean to. The arrow goes right through his neck.

“Nice shot,” says the king.

I don’t have time to enjoy the praise. Whatever magic held the others seems to have snapped loose, because Grey and I are suddenly facing ten more swords. But more screams fill the air: impossibly beautiful and terrifying winged creatures with fangs and talons come out of the sky from every direction.

They slice into the remaining soldiers viciously, severing limbs without hesitation, until none are left standing.

I can’t breathe for an entirely new reason. I think of all the stories I used to read with Callyn, and it’s like seeing them come to life. I don’t know if I should be terrified or grateful. I’m a little bit of both.

But the first, the one the king called Nakiis, lands in front of us with the little girl. The other scravers cling to the trees surrounding the clearing. I can’t stop staring.

The little girl reaches for her father tearfully. “Da. I don’t like this game.”

The king struggles to get to his feet, but his leg won’t hold him.

“I don’t either,” he says.

I put out a hand, and he blinks at me in surprise—then takes it. The little girl grabs him tight around the waist, and he winces, but he doesn’t pull away.

He looks at the winged creature. “The queen?” he says quietly.

“And … Tycho?” I say hopefully.

“Both are being attended to.” Nakiis sighs, but he’s looking at the steel bolt protruding from the king’s thigh. “Why do you fools keep leaving charmed steel against your skin? Your magic will never recover.” Without warning, he reaches out, grabs the steel, and yanks it free.

The king swears and cries out, but he grips the table and stays on his feet.

I stare out at the fallen bodies surrounding the forge. Blood is everywhere. I don’t see my father. I don’t see Callyn. My breathing is shaking in my chest.

Then the princess draws back to look at the king. “Da. If you’re done, we have to see to Princess Nora.”