“Stand down,” Caelburn was bellowing at the head of the line. “Defensive spells only!”
Roxanne saw an Erastatian boy, only a little younger than her, fire a crossbow. By chance or fate, the projectile found its way through the army’s air shields and met its mark. One Jidaelni man crumpled, the shaft of the arrow buried in his chest. The Xamarai began wielding more aggressively as they retaliated against the townsfolk.
“Stop,” Roxanne screamed at the villagers. “We’re here to help—we are not with Necrovar!”
Her cries did nothing but alert the Erastatians to her position. A great gust smacked into Roxanne, knocking the breath out of her, and she tumbled backward.
She twisted in midair and landed, catlike, avoiding injury. This was all wrong. These people couldn’t possibly have chosen to
