The Faerie War by rachel morgan Page B

hurl myself out of the way. The arrow strikes a tree with a thwip as I reach into the air for my knives. “Dale, what the hell, man?”
    Ten or so faeries, all dressed in the same dark blue uniform, spill through a doorway behind Dale. Male and female, some I recognize and others I’ve never seen before. Guardians and Unseelie faeries fighting together. I never thought it would happen.
    “Try to take them alive,” one shouts.
    And the fighting begins. Arrows sail through the air along with sparks of all colors. Blades clang and clash. Bats and birds and shards of ice get thrown around. I dodge a small knife spinning end over end toward me and shoot an arrow at Dale before he can throw another blade. Bright green sparks singe my hair, but I drop to the ground before they can do more damage. I coax mist out of my hands and send it toward our enemies. It’ll buy us a few moments to figure out what to do next.
    How did they know exactly where to find us? And how are we supposed to get away? Will we have to kill them? I don’t want that, but it’s not like they’re going to let us leave. I stand up and back out of the way as an Order member runs into the mist brandishing a sword and shouting some kind of battle cry.
    Okay, nineteen of us and about twelve of them. We don’t all need to be fighting . . .
    I search our group, looking for the weak links. I grab the two Orders members who seem to be doing the worst job of holding off our enemies: the youngest faerie and one of the women. I grab Tryce as well because he obviously didn’t answer my question correctly when I asked if he knew how to fight.
    I pull them back. “Have you stunned anyone before?” I ask quickly.
    “Yes,” the woman says, “but that takes a lot of—” She shrieks as a bird with talons the size of dragon teeth soars toward us. It slams into my hurriedly thrown up shield and evaporates into a puff of smoke.
    “A lot of power, yes.” I hold my hand up, hoping the shield will remain there while I’m talking. “Stay back here where we can protect you and gather as much power as possible. Then stun whoever you can.”
    “But what if—”
    “No buts. We’ll never get away if we don’t stun these guys.”
    I head back into the melee where the mist is clearing. I go for Dale first because I know I can beat him; I’ve always been faster and stronger. Before he can shoot another arrow or throw a blade my way, I barrel right into him. The sparkling bow vanishes from his grasp as we slam onto the ground. I’m about to pummel him when I get his knee in my chest. I struggle for breath.
    “Don’t fight this, Ryn,” he says. “Draven is the master our world has always needed. You’ll see that eventually.”
    Draven? Who the hell is he?
    Dale pulls his hand back and closes it in a fist, but not before I see a circular shape inked in black on his palm. I grab the fist before it can reach my face and twist. I don’t want to break his wrist—it makes me sick to hurt a friend, even a friend as annoying as Dale—but I will if I have to.
    “Aargh!” Dale’s fist slips from my grasp as an arrow pierces my shoulder. He forces me off him. A moment later I find myself on my back with a knee in my chest and a hand around my neck.
    “Just give in now before I have to hurt you,” he says. “You can’t get away. The faerie paths are monitored now. Draven will find you no matter where you run.”
    The faerie paths are monitored?
    “Not . . . happening,” I gasp. Dale’s observation skills clearly haven’t improved since we were last together, because he hasn’t noticed the knife I now have in one of my hands. I bring it straight down into his thigh, muttering “Sorry” at the same time because even though he’s trying to strangle me, he is still my friend.
    While Dale yells and grips his bleeding leg, I scramble up, yank the arrow from my shoulder, and remember that one of the weapons in my invisible arsenal is a wooden beam. I haven’t