FALLOUT
Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,
For I would ride with you upon the wind,
Run on the top of the disheveled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame.
– W.B. Yeats, The Land of Heart’s Desire
The adrenaline under Jarrod’s skin boiled over and burst through his arm. Celeste went through a spear’s shaft and the spearman’s helmet, which broke apart and vomited torrents of pink and gray. The wall of spears ahead of him shattered and collapsed as they scattered from the massive blade, and Aever, on his right, drove ahead with several mooks—Jarrod didn’t know what else to call them—on her heels, and this is what it was going to be, he realized, jumping back from an axe and crunching the sword through a mail-clad arm and kicking the man away. Innocents with hand we
