by Kris Kramer
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Somehow, Finias knew it was coming before it even happened. His arrows weren't especially effective against the heavy armor of the Anduains manning the ram, so instead he'd been aiming for the casters and druids in the back lines and watching in amusement as they scurried about for cover while he picked them off one by one. At first, he'd only been trying to push them back by aiming for their legs and arms, or to incapacitate them to keep them from firing back. But that had been a bad idea. The Anduains were smart, and by leaving them alive, they'd been able to plan a counterattack. They moved out of range, or changed their targets, or slipped out of his line of sight, all to distract him or to lull him into thinking he was winning. And just when Kat tried to pull him back, they had moved in and attacked his position en masse. He saw the barrage of bolts and arrows coming from the corner of his eye, and he'd been able to dodge the brunt of it as the battlement exploded around him, but a chunk of stone hit Kat in the head, and she fell to the ground in a heap. Bad luck on her part, he figured.
Finias leaned over and checked her breathing, and was relieved to find that she still lived. But her hair was matted with blood, and she'd need Riordan's help very soon. He knew how dangerous a head wound could be and he didn't want to take any chances. He looked back and saw that the battlement he'd been hiding behind was half-destroyed anyway, and he counted himself lucky to not be dead right now. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, then leaned over to pick her up, intending to carry her down to the lower levels. As he leaned over, though, he saw blood on his sleeve. He wiped his forehead with his hand this time and confirmed that he was also bleeding. He hadn't felt the wound at first, but now the side of his head throbbed, and it was getting worse. Suddenly, he stopped worrying about his injury, or even about Kat. The only thing he felt now was anger. He wouldn't let these Anduain invaders come to his lands and take a piece of him or of anyone else. Not now, not ever. He grabbed his bow again, leaving Kat lying unconscious on the roof behind him, and leapt over to the next battlement.
He peered around the edge and saw that most of the Anduains had rushed inside the broken door, but several of the casters and healers had stayed back, their arms moving frantically as they worked to keep those in front of them alive. They probably thought they'd killed him with their attack, but he would prove them dead wrong.
He loosed arrow after arrow at the attackers below, and while a few missed their mark, most did not. One pierced a nuathreen in the leg, just below the hip. Another caught a human in the center of his chest. Then he struck an elf in the neck, who dropped to the ground, writhing about and clutching his throat. Finias reveled in the moment, no longer concerned about the bloodlust he'd feared his whole life. It came naturally to him now, one arrow after another. Suddenly, he was a hunter, perched on the high ground, and everything below him was prey.
He found another elf, a wraith he thought, dressed all in black, black robe, black cloak, black boots, waving his arms about maniacally in his casting motions. Finias fired an arrow and watched it strike the mage's chest, near his right shoulder. The elf spun away, clutching at the arrow, and started to run away clumsily, but Finias would have none of that. He fired again, this time striking the calf, and the elf fell to the ground. Finias ducked back behind the battlement, and pictured his next shot in his mind. The killing shot. He pulled the arrow out, nocked it, then stepped back over to the crenellation and fired. The arrow found its mark, puncturing the elf’s throat at an angle that caused the bodkin to exit from the back of the head. The elf stopped writhing and Finias smiled at how easy this was for him.
He aimed for another target, a human tracker, who wielded a bow just like him. The tracker fired an arrow at Finias' position, but he ducked back as it sailed over the tower. Finias peered back around to see the tracker running away, trying to get out of range. Finias aimed for his legs, hoping to cripple him like the mage, but the tracker made that a moot point when he stopped. Finias glanced just ahead of him, noticing movement in the trees behind the Anduain forces, the same movement that now prompted the tracker to back away. Finias watched him turn and run to his allies, shouting something in warning, only to get cut down by an axe in his back. The tracker dropped to the ground, still alive, barely, and Finias watched as a new horde of enemies emerged from the shadows of the forest to finish him off, mercilessly.
