Red Hood's Revenge

the Kha’iida and coming about for a second charge. Hounds attacked as the hunters spread out to surround the group. Their weapons lashed out, and humans began to fall. Even the best mortal fighters wouldn’t last long against the mounted fairy warriors of the Hunt.
    Talia turned her attention back to the palace and Prince Amabar, the only one to respond to her call. The only one to remember her.
    She bowed her head, thinking of her mother. Beautiful and proud, her every gesture slow and confident. Her mother had lived in the shadow of her husband, but no one who looked upon her ever questioned the strength and power she carried, even if that power was rarely used.
    Her mother wouldn’t have raised her sword like a common soldier. She was queen of Arathea, and when she spoke, her word was law.
    Talia lowered her weapons and walked toward the palace, doing her best to ignore the battle below. “My bloodline runs back to the very founding of this land. Obey me, or forsake the honor of your families’ names. The Wild Hunt threatens your nation. They threaten your rightful princess.” Another ghost joined Amabar, then a third. “You are princes of Arathea, children of the desert, and your home is under attack. Defend it!”
    The dead surged from the palace, Amabar in the lead. Lakhim’s troops had already hit the Hunt from behind, forcing them to widen their ring, and now the ghosts struck from the opposite flank. Hounds and hunters turned against the ghosts, who fought back in spectral silence.
    Talia was halfway down the hill before she knew she was moving. Each step was longer than the last, until she felt as though she flew over the desert like the huma bird of old. The wolf’s eagerness left no room for fear or hesitation. She raised her weapons, laughing as she reached the Hunt. She jumped over a fallen Kha’iida and swung at the closest hunter.
    He parried the first blow. His horse reared, hooves kicking at Talia’s skull.
    Danielle’s sword cut the leg from the horse. It fell, and Talia finished off the rider with Roudette’s hammer. She leaped to intercept the next hunter. There was no thought. No strategy. Allies were nothing more than obstacles blocking her path to the next enemy. Only when the ground itself shook did she pause in her rampage.
    Injured men cried out in pain. Many lost their balance as the trembling grew more violent.
    Talia blinked and backed toward the edge of the fighting. She wiped her face on her shoulder. The Wild Hunt had been hurt, but for every hunter who fell, three humans lay unmoving in the sand. The ghosts continued to fight, but their numbers had diminished as well.
    The hunters retreated toward the palace. Talia started to follow, but one of the Kha’iida caught her arm from behind. Talia recognized Muhazil by smell. Muhazil clutched a wound in his side, but he still stood. His eyes were wide, and he stared at her as though looking upon a monster. “You fight like the deevslayers of old.”
    Talia pointed toward the palace where Zestan stood atop the central wall, an angel shadowed in darkness. The air around her rippled, as though burned by her mere presence.
    “Enough!”
    The ghosts continued to harry the Wild Hunt, but they vanished as they passed over the fairy wall. The humans stood frozen by the power of Zestan’s voice.
    Talia swallowed. More than half the men who had attacked the Hunt lay dead or dying, and she didn’t see a single warrior who had escaped injury. Looking back, she saw archers standing ready atop the hill. These would be late arrivals to the battle, brought by Lakhim’s ebony horse.
    Zestan raised her hands. “Bring me the one called Sleeping Beauty, and I will be merciful.”
    Muhazil touched his chest. “That is no deev.”
    “No,” said Talia. Sweat soaked her robes and stung her eyes. She was breathing hard, from excitement and eagerness as much as fatigue.
    “A peri.” His face slackened into an expression of awe.
    “A peri who turned the Wild Hunt against the Kha’iida,” Talia reminded him.
    Another Kha’iida stepped forward. “The peri were said to sit at the right hand of God. If she demands the princess, perhaps we should—”
    “You’re welcome to try.” Talia raised her sword and smiled.
    Thunder echoed through the desert, so close it was as if the sky itself had cracked overhead. The air grew still, and Talia’s skin tingled. A burned-metal smell made her wrinkle her nose.
    “Peri magic,” breathed