PROLOGUE - x
It was midsummer on the continent - that time of year when the days are a bit too hot, but the evenings are still cool and pleasant. At dusk the temperature was falling quickly, especially in the shadows of the forest. Sidra was hunting. She had left her two friends to follow her prey deeper into the forest while her friends set to make camp for the night. The forest was too dense for her to fly, so she tread silently in the shadows, following them and looking for an opportunity. Eventually the group paused, and after a brief discussion the six fae dismounted their horses. They were probably intending to make camp for the night, but would not get the chance. About fifty yards away, Sidra reached into her satchel and counted out with her fingers five polished round steel balls, each about two inches in diameter. She had crafted them herself so that she could comfortably hold three at a time in her left hand. She put the fourth under her left armpit and readied the fifth in her right hand.
Quick as lightning, she threw each ball, one after another. First, she threw the one in her right hand, then pulled the one from under her armpit with one fluid motion and threw it. Then she tossed each in succession from her left to her right hand and threw them. She fired all five within a few seconds, not leaving any of the fae a chance to run. A few went straight to their target. Two curved around a small branch and came back to them. Her missiles found their mark with an accuracy and speed even fae would find difficult to match. Each hit a fae male dead center of the skull with a loud, wet cracking of bone and puff of blood. The horses reared and fled. The sixth fae, a small, wiry fae with mean eyes who was smart enough to recognize the specific danger he was facing, turned to flee at full fae pace. Before he could get twenty steps from his fallen companions, he was hit awkwardly in the knee with a ragged rock. The knee shattered and he fell. He drew his sword, rolled over to face Sidra, and threw a spell. The spell missed her as he was struck by another rock, this one in the ankle of his good leg. The rock shattered, but so did his ankle. More rocks hit him in both collar bones as Sidra strolled casually up to his feet, her head cocked as if she was considering some interesting question. Unable to support his weight or hold the sword any longer, he had no choice but to lie on the damp, soft earth and await his fate.