“Are you mad?” Ciaran asked, but then all along the row of archers, arrowheads burst into flame.
“Witch!” Dolan cried, and Eoghan leveled his spade at her.
Brenna looked at them coolly, and Ciaran thought he saw something like power glimmer in her golden eyes. “You’ll want something faster than my brand of witchcraft once those men make it ashore.” And then she caught Ciaran’s gaze, and he knew. He swallowed hard, darted a glance at his father.
Niamh said, “Fire.”
Arrows zipped through the air like a rain of falling stars. Prows burst alight. And then there was screaming.
No comments:
Post a Comment