“Now,” Brenna said, “might be a good time for some faster magic.”
One of the enemies lifted a giant bow, and Ciaran stood paralyzed by the bloodlust in those ice-green eyes. The enemy fired. Eoghan shouted. So did Dolan. Ciaran couldn’t move.
And then Brenna was in front of him, clutching the arrow in one hand.
“Or not,” she said. Then she threw back her head and screeched, the sound just like the one her massive black bird made before it dove from the sky. She swung her sword up, and it met the metal of a giant axe.
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