© Sue Vincent

“Archers! At the ready!” Petran gave the command to his meager squad of elven soldiers as they formed a perimeter around the five Davidson children and the magician Raibyr. Nine-year-old Taylor was at the center with his siblings when he remembered he also had his bow and arrows.

The wind was frigid and fierce, which fortunately made the attacking Beelzebub horde uncertain in the air, but would also make accuracy with the bow extremely difficult.

The sense of the warrior Azzorh within Taylor came over him, and he nocked his first arrow.

The bat-winged demons were in as tight a formation as possible given the storm that was tracking toward the party from the west; a massive cloud of swollen, sickly green flies whose home was sewage, and whose taste was for blood.

While Mandy had her other brother Jake and her two sisters Paris and Zooey huddled around her close to the ground, along with Taylor, the wizard Raibyr was standing, as if oblivious to the tempest, facing headlong into gale and disaster.

The swarm loomed closer and Taylor felt his palms moisten with sweat while inside, he was silently begging the Sergeant of the Guards to give the command to fire.

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