Her ears are still ringing as the bats go down. Fur sizzles the screeching worsens-and then goes silent. As the bats descend, hungry for blood, the witches and archers are eager to meet them. It's no use.īut what is useful are the bolts of magic hurled over her shoulder. Screeching pierces her sensitive ears Arlinn covers one and tucks the other against her shoulder to try and block out the cacophony. Distant, at first, easily mistaken for pieces of falling ash, but the sound soon drowns out that hope.
Onward the lances, onward the hammers and shields, torches and pitchforks, the holy tomes and blessed blades.Īnd downward come the bats. Onward across the bridge, toward that den of depravity, the rush of the living and the mortal. The two of them join the crowd: cathars mounted and unmounted, priests bearing herons and priests bearing Avacynian collars, and farmers who have lost their families. Kaya rolls her eyes-but she doesn't back down.
And understanding Innistrad meant understanding Arlinn. After all of this is over, she hopes the two of them can get to know each other better Kaya, out of all the other planeswalkers, understood the delicate balance of life and death that so characterized Innistrad. Arlinn's learned that Kaya's right about a lot of things. "Otherwise, there isn't gonna be much left for us." Kaya's hand on her shoulder brings her back to the present moment-to the reality of it, instead of Arlinn's far-flung musings. And vampires left a rotten taste in everything they touched. It was like her mother always used to say-didn't matter how nice the pie looked, if you filled it with hot fish, it'd still taste rotten. She sees beyond the gates: from the narrow walkway, trailing thin as thread above the abyss, to the manor's sick tapestry. Arlinn doesn't see who takes them down, only the lances piercing their chests, but she does taste their blood on the wind.
The guards at the gates stand no chance against the gathered masses. Adeline is ahead of the pack, Chandra sitting behind her Teferi hastens the footsteps of the surrounding foot soldiers as much as he can. The moment she sees the angelic plume of light, she shouts to the others, "Now!"īut they are already moving, holiness gilding them like saints, swords raised, and stallions rearing. Sigarda's Summons | Art by: Nestor Ossandon LealĪrlinn can't give the order fast enough.