PROLOGUE
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. Sidra was hunting at dusk in the forest, where the temperature in the shadows was falling quickly. This opportunity was too good to miss, so she had left her two friends to set up camp while she followed this prey deeper into the forest. The forest was too dense for her to fly, so she prowled silently in the shadows, following the group of fae and waiting for the right moment. Eventually the six doomed fae paused, and, after a brief discussion, they dismounted their horses. They were probably intending to make camp for the night, but would not get the chance.
Sidra's eyes did not stray from the group about fifty yards away even as reached into her satchel and counted out with her fingers five polished round steel balls. She had crafted the two-inch diameter weapons so that she could hold three at a time in her left hand. She put a fourth under her left armpit and readied the fifth in her right hand and waited for her moment.
Quick as lightning, she threw the weapon in her right hand and in one fluid motion, she pulled the one from under her armpit and threw it. She then tossed each from her left hand to her right in succession and threw them. She fired all five before the fae had any chance to run. While three of her missiles went straight to their target, the two she threw side-arm curved around a small branch before homing in on their mark. Each one hit a fae dead center of the skull with a loud, wet cracking of bone and puff of blood as the horses reared and fled. She immediately forgot about them as she focused on her target.
The sixth fae, a small, wiry male with mean eyes, was smart enough to recognize the specific danger he was facing and turned to flee at full fae pace, but was hit awkwardly in the knee with a ragged rock before he could get twenty steps from his dead companions. As he fell to the ground on his shattered knee, he rolled over to face Sidra and deftly drew his sword while also throwing a spell. The spell missed her as he was struck by another rock, this one shattered the ankle of his good leg. More rocks rose from the surrounding forest and hit him in both collar bones as Sidra strolled casually up to his feet with 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 soft, damp earth and await his fate.