Battle Ground (The Dresden Files #17) - Jim Butcher Page 0,115

orders, and the clicking along the enemy lines became frantic as they attempted to wheel their force to face the army of the Winter Lady.

But Mab wasn’t going to stop there.

ONE-EYE! called Mab’s psychic voice.

And the sky began to growl.

Lightning crashed down to the earth in a sudden curtain of spears of light, setting half a dozen of the trees in the park aflame, and then leapt back up into the sky, burning the air clean and clear as it went. There it formed a blazing cloud of electricity that suddenly flattened into a line that split open in a ragged tear, as, maybe four thousand feet up, the sky burst open and a rider emerged, mounted upon an eight-legged steed. The rider surged out of the hole in the sky.

And the Wild Hunt followed him.

Horns blew, wildly, a sound of haunting beauty and pure terror, as from the rip in the sky came scores of dark mounts and dark hounds, running as if on solid ground and ridden by the darkest talents of Winter—and they all followed the leader of the Hunt, an eight-legged horse half again as big as any of the others, and ridden by a dark, terrifying shadow bearing a bolt of living lightning in one mailed fist.

Beside the great rider, the Erlking himself lifted his horn to his lips and blew, and on that wailing note, in time with the percussion of Guns N’ Roses, the Wild Hunt dove down toward the earthbound forces of the Fomor, and terror went before them.

The enemy’s voices lifted in wails of dismay, and one of the cohorts of octokongs simply started scattering, turning upon their Fomor masters when they tried to restore order. And it got worse for the Fomor: The whole army had been in the midst of attempting to adjust to the presence of the Winter Lady’s cohorts, and they looked waddling and clumsy compared to the Winter cohorts, like . . .

Like seals or sea turtles caught on land.

In a flash of insight, I realized that Corb’s forces were used to operating and practicing underwater. Down there, stumbling into a comrade in arms during maneuvers was no big deal because it wouldn’t make anyone fall down, or trip up the following troops. Down there, there was about triple the physical space to operate within, and an extra dimension of possible movement to boot.

Dry land was a less forgiving place for imprecision. And they hadn’t been able to practice on land—not while maintaining their centuries-long seclusion underwater. As a result, the Fomor army couldn’t react or maneuver anywhere near as quickly as they should have been able to. They were too used to the sea.

If we’d fought them down there, I expect we wouldn’t have had a chance.

But we weren’t down there.

This was a realm of Air and Darkness.

The Wild Hunt swept down upon the most vulnerable and exposed troops in the enemy line—the poor saps on the very outside of the wheel—and it was like watching automated machinery in a meat-packing plant. Down swept the Wild Hunt in a great vertical wheel led by that monstrous eight-legged steed. There was a huge humming tone, like the buzz in the air around active Tesla coils, but bigger and more eerie, and a continuous lightning bolt as wide as a lane of traffic lashed out from the right hand of the shadowy leader of the Wild Hunt as he soared along the enemy line, wreaking carnage and chaos among them.

While the rest of the Hunt did not wield weapons so spectacular, their swords and spears, gripped by hands with centuries of experience, were plied to deadly effect. At the speed of their dive, the lightest brush from the edge of a blade carried terrible, focused power. Heads and limbs flew. Blood sprayed.

My Knight, came Mab’s psychic voice. We have perhaps sixty seconds before the Eye is once again loosed upon us. You must call her by then.

“There’s an army between me and there,” I protested. “Literally, an army.”

Gee, thanks, Sir Obvious, came the Winter Lady’s merry, excited, somehow panting psychic voice. I caught a glimpse of Molly across the battlefield, watched a heavy axe shatter upon the frost glittering upon her skin even as she flicked her white sword left and right with almost delicate motions, the lightest touch of the blade engulfing each of her foes in the obdurate ice of Winter’s heart. The smile on her face made her look wild and terrible and delighted,