The Weaver by Melanie Kanicky

Author:Melanie Kanicky [Kanicky, Melanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MidnightSun Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter twenty three

Saatcha watched in horror from the top of the garden as Ren took down the first beast with a flaming sword. Too close, she thought. She felt a flicker of pride at Ren’s skill. But their troubles were only beginning. The barrier was crumbling in earnest now. Spidering cracks fizzled upwards. There was a massive shape on the other side of the wall, throwing itself against the magic. Saatcha thought she saw two dark eyes staring back at her as it lurched a final time and the wall shattered.

The hounds didn’t falter. They converged, fighting over themselves to get through the break in the magic. Snarls and growls filled the air, ripping from their throats. Saatcha’s heart hammered, and she saw in her mind Ren and Kaverin, torn apart just like Boris, their blood painting the dewy grass. True dread gripped her, froze her. The sword in her hand might as well have been a toy. There could be no fighting Morozko’s force – nothing three people could do against an army like this.

Dozens of hounds tore across the grass to where her friends stood unprotected. The beasts made it halfway up the lawn, moving with great speed. Saatcha was torn between running towards Kav and Ren and wanting to flee. It was over. She knew it. A cry of terror erupted from her, half a sob and half a scream, when suddenly, the grounds sprang to life. Saatcha did scream then – mostly out of shock. It was the topiaries she’d so admired, that first day she’d toured the grounds. They burst to life as the first of the hounds drew near.

Towering creatures forged of shrubbery uprooted themselves from the ground, shaking free. Their tremendous, fierce forms were at odds with the gentle, floating lights above. They charged past Kaverin and Ren, bodies rustling. Even Kaverin looked shocked to see them – he clearly hadn’t known of Ironwood’s in-built defences. But as they swept past, the prince grinned madly. The topiaries had become their own army, one of lions and bears and wolves, and they swept the hounds aside with great branch limbs. The hounds were thrown through the air, some of them whining and yelping, and they shattered against the ground. Saatcha didn’t know what kind of magic Ironwood possessed, but the topiaries were powerful. They decimated the hounds, taking out a large chunk of their numbers before they could attack, and quickly, as though rehearsed, the topiaries formed an unbreakable line between the monsters and the humans.

Or so it seemed. But the creatures continued to pour through the barrier. Kaverin turned towards the castle, with an arm raised. Saatcha looked up – he was moving crossbows into position on the roof. With just a thought, Kaverin rained flaming arrows down at the hounds. They flew through the air, leaving trails of sparks dancing against the dimness – until they met the hounds and petered out, buried deep into their hides. For a moment, Saatcha thought her clever friends might actually win.

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