Chapter 48: The Battle

Alma spins in a circle, pulling out two small daggers from her cloak and slicing into five of the rebels surrounding her. As the crows begins to take notice, the werebears, completing the partial transformation they had already begun, barrel their way into the crowd. Alma rushes below the arms of the enemy. Her feathers begin to shift, her arms turning into wings. She glances back, catching sight of Olisnia’s long, gleaming whip flicking through the air. It wraps around multiple rebels, flinging them across the courtyard.
Setting her sights on the Princess, Alma squawks, jumping around the crows as they try to grab her. Once her transformation is complete, she flaps into the air, high enough to be out of reach from the rebels. She soars quickly, traveling across the courtyard. When she is almost to the platform, though, a sharp agony erupts in her left wing, causing her to tumble to the ground, smashing her body across the dirt. She releases a rough breath, her chest aching.
The shouts of the rebels deafen her as the men surround her. She releases a whimper, peering up, her vision blurry. She can feel the hot liquid soaking her feathers, a long arrow protruding from her wing. As the edges of her eyes grow dim, Evyn comes charging in, knocking all of the men away. He pummels a man before tearing another almost in half. He seethes out a growl, his entire body trembling.
“Get back,” he shouts, standing over Alma.
The rebels, their hands gripping their swords, slowly retreat to a safe distance. They circle the two, inching around them.
“Are you alright?” Even glances down at her every so often, but tries to continue watching their enemy.
“I can’t move my wing,” Alma huffs, wincing with eh agony as she tries to shift around.
“No, don’t move. Just relax,” Even orders. “Wait for Olisnia to take a look at it.”
The werebird is unable to respond, her head growing heavy from exhaustion.
Beatrice and Conrad stay close together, knocking down soldier after soldier. One of the men is able to catch Beatrice off guard and slice into her side. She yelps, but twists around and bites his head off.
Conrad rears up on his hind legs before allowing his body to fall on a couple of rebels. They cry as he crushes their bodies.
Olisnia is forcing her way through the horde of enemies. She’s constantly flicking her wrist, causing her whip to swirl around her, slashing across arms and legs, even backs. They bellow as their flesh is ripped open. The Drulian twirls the whip once more, her eyes glowing violet, before she allows the weapon to disappear.
Then, she sets her gaze on Eliana who stands on the gallows. Rage rolls through her, vibrating her tattoos. Raising her left arm, a glimmering bow begins to form from her skin. Once complete, she reaches her other hand forward, pulling back a violet arrow that comes into creation with every move she makes. She pulls the arrow taut, aiming at the noose around the Princess’ neck.
In her peripheral, Olisnia notes the movement of the human woman that had spoken previously. She pivots towards the lever that releases the door beneath Eliana.
Gritting her teeth, Olisnia steadies her arm, and with a soft release of her breath, she lets fly the arrow. It whistles though the air, slicing across the rope around Eliana. It begins to fray, only a sliver still intact. Grunting, the Drulian reaches forward once more. She does not have to follow through, though, as the noose finally snaps, falling away from the Princess.
Olisnia instead turns the arrow onto the executioner, allowing it to find a new home imbedding in the man’s large chest. He stumbles back, falling from the platform and landing on several rebels.
The Drulian gasps as sweat begins to bead on her forehead, dripping down passed her cheeks. Her muscles tense to the point of agony as her tattoos begin to slow. Her magic is running out. She winces as she only barely misses being hit by an arrow. It slices across her arm.
She makes eye contact with the archer. As she places her hand in the air, imagining as though she were grabbing the man, a pale mist begins to swirl around the rebel, coating his skin. Olisnia cocks her head to the side before closing her fist, constricting the archer with the mysterious mist. He is crushed instantly, falling off the guard tower.
Her chest constricts as the effort she puts in to every attack drains even more of her magic.
Conrad pushes Beatrice out of the way as three soldiers run at her, swords raised. They end up impaling the male werebear, causing him to release a loud roar.
“Everyone, stop,” the human woman from before shouts so that she can be heard across the courtyard. It takes a moment before the chaos dies down and all of the eyes turn back to the platform.
“You will halt this nonsense attack, or else I will kill the Princess where she stands,” the woman seethes, a sword presses against Eliana’s neck.
Olisnia grits her teeth, anger bubbling in her chest. She twitches her fingers, testing how much magic she has left.
She wonders if she will have enough.
Pressing her lips together, the Drulian twists her wrist, a green mist pouring from her fingers. She locks onto the weapon in the human’s grasp. Gritting her teeth, she mentally takes a hold of the item and yanks away from Eliana.
As Olisnia relieves the woman of her sword, a collection of howls echoes through Zaline, causing a shiver to course through the crowd.