Palace of Silver (The Nissera Chronicles #3) - Hannah West Page 0,134

the valley beyond the woods. They anticipated a pitched battle that would give them the upper hand.

Glisette and Commander Larsio exchanged glances. The time had come.

The battle was beginning.

I closed my eyes and thought of Rynna, of Rayed, and of Valory, who suffered in stillness and despair. I thought of all the homes I had known and loved, from the lush, stormy Erdem to the sunny beaches of Beyrian, to the mystical beauty of Wenryn. I thought of Lucrez, who had been so brave and unexpectedly selfless, and Perennia, who had died trying to hold her fractured family together.

When I opened my eyes again, Glisette had lifted her hands, preparing to bring wrath down on her sister’s army.

Hunkered in the high branches, I sank into my furs for warmth, bracing myself for what would come.

The biting wind howled in my ears until they ached. The rain turned to hard sleet, and then to swirling snow. Glisette shaped the storm with her gestures like a potter shaping clay.

It stalled over us, churning until I had to shield my face. When I dared look again, a thick layer of snow covered the ground.

With a great thrust, Glisette pushed the storm out from the forest toward the fast-approaching infantry.

Helmets flew off, and even a few crest-shaped shields caught gusts and blew away. Most of the cavalry dismounted and tried to harry their horses onward, but the beasts preferred turning their rumps to the freezing wind.

Good. The infantry would be exhausted by the time they reached us.

Glisette backed into the forest and let her arms drop, palms down, as though taming a wild beast. The winds dissipated. The fresh snow settled down quietly around us. Then the precipitation turned back from snow to misty rain.

Ambrosine’s army regrouped as much as possible and pressed on. I repositioned myself in my tree to find the best firing position. My fingers brushed the fletching of an arrow in my quiver, anxious to send it flying, anxious for this to be over.

I nocked it, relishing the creak of the string and the magic pumping through my veins—my Marksman gift was more ready than I was.

I aimed at the road and waited for the front row of soldiers to struggle through the deep snow. An inconspicuous stake in the ground marked our attack zone.

I set my sights on one of the frontrunners, aiming for his heart. His arm had tired of holding the shield against the wind. It drooped, leaving his chest exposed.

As soon as my target passed the stake, I let fly. My arrow struck its mark.

Several other archers hit their targets, while others struck shields or snow. Chaos erupted in the enemy ranks. The outer ends of the first two rows began to collapse like metal folding as it melted, their cries of sudden anguish revealing their surprise.

To avoid trampling the victims, the rows behind them split and veered off the road. The traps waited for them beneath the cloak of snow.

I nocked another arrow while the second group of archers let fly. I set my sights on a mark and struck him in the neck. Killing meant silencing a small voice in my mind that said all war was evil, no matter the cause. But these weren’t helpless civilians or people who had been magically forced to do the Moth King’s bidding. They had chosen their fate.

If we didn’t defeat Ambrosine, the scourges of the Fallen would devastate this world until nothing remained but miserable souls.

Blood spattered over the pure, bright snow. As the bodies piled up at the front ranks and the hidden traps on their side of the road were revealed, the second group of enemy soldiers fanned out along the edges of the woods.

Glisette took one side of the road and Tilmorn the other, each sending spells that wiped out clusters of soldiers before they could even cross into the forest. I had used the thrusting spell to good effect already, but my uncertainty had given it only a tenth of the intensity that these two could muster. When they yelled “Nagak,” entire groups of armor-clad men soared for several yards and landed hard.

As our ambush split the front ranks like an axe splitting a log, the cavalry pushed to the fore. With Glisette and Tilmorn protecting us from the wave of oncoming soldiers, I had the perfect chance to reach a better vantage point for the next phase: targeting the mounted warriors.

I retied my rope and shimmied down, leaping into the snow