Rise of the Fomori: A Young Adult Urban Fantasy Adventure (Faerie Warriors Book 2)

by J. A. Curtis

  Rise of the Fomori

  Faerie Warriors, Volume 2

  JA Curtis

  Published by ElMae Publishing, 2021.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  RISE OF THE FOMORI

  First edition. April 19, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 JA Curtis.

  Written by JA Curtis.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue: Vision of the Past

  1 At the Hardware Store

  2 The Stone in the Glass

  3 Family Versus Enemies

  4 Lack of Trust

  5 Protector

  6 Thaya’s Ability

  7 Regret and Sacrifice

  8 Getting Help

  9 The Faerie Queen

  10 Unconditional Love

  11 Joining the Royal Guard

  12 Human or Faerie

  13 Wolpertinger Proves His Worth

  14 Winged Flight

  15 Answers in the Mist

  16 Unexpected Complication

  17 Homecoming

  18 The Chase

  19 Dramian

  20 Sacrifice

  21 Following Orders

  22 Faerie Blood

  23 Failure of Duty

  24 Leader of the Faeries

  25 Uneasy Truce

  26 Dead Man’s Cliff Reprise

  27 Princess Niamh

  28 Magical Plague

  29 Rank and Title

  30 Brothers

  31 The Plan

  32 The Battle

  33 Bres

  34 Battle Tactics

  35 Race to the Haven

  36 Casualties

  Epilogue: The Prize

  Prologue:

  Vision of the Past

  Mina

  “AH, OUR ESTEEMED LEADERS, come to check on us lowly wretches out here in the trenches.”

  “Watch your mouth, Bres,” Fand snapped. She flipped her long pale hair over her shoulder and sat outside her tent on the mossy ground, one hand holding a stone, her sword laid out before her.

  Bres lingered next to a broad leafy tree nearby, his shoulder-length hair pulled into a ponytail. His eyes, brown with an odd red tint, glazed over Fand. The knife in his hand carved back a layer on the small piece of wood he whittled.

  Fand’s attention had been drawn to two men dressed in leather armor who had barely exited a large official tent a short distance away and were deep in conversation. One man, tall and stiff, spoke with an unyielding intensity, a golem attached to his upper right bicep. The other, who stood with a more casual air, sported a red dragon. Their rich russet-colored leather was smooth and polished. Fand ran a finger over her own cracking, dirt-brown cuirass covering her front.

  “Oh yes,” Bres said, not glancing up from his whittling. His leather armor also appeared a little worn and was the same light-brown color as Fand’s. “You wouldn’t want such favored guests to discover what it's truly like out here. Keeping all those palace faeries safe so they can sit in their nice cushy positions and act like they’re the honored heroes—Do you think they find it all that taxing? Come on Fand, you know you’re worth ten of them.”

  The corners of Fand’s mouth twitched. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She nodded toward the two men. “They are the Sons of Tempest.”

  Bres paused and looked toward the men. “Are they now?”

  She nodded. “Slayers of the demon horde at Mystic Rune. Victors over the great Vampiric Challenge and retrievers of the Glaive of Light from the Lair of the Dragons.”

  Bres recovered and studied Fand, who watched the newcomers. “Thought they’d be taller.”

  Fand shook her head, setting the stone in her grasp aside as her lips curled upward. “Still think I’m worth ten of them?”

  “Easy to make a name for yourself when you carry extra protection,” he said, tapping his bare arms, “and have the right lineage.”

  Her smile faded.

  “We both know you are one of the best soldiers here,” he said. “But even if by some miracle you performed an act of valiance and bravery that got you into the Royal Guard, there’d always be that separation. You’d always be that special case. There’d always be that doubt over whether you belonged there.”

  Fand tore her gaze away from the two men, rubbing the skin of her own bare arms. “Who said I’d take a place among the Royal Guard even if they offered it?”

  He gave her a flat stare, and Fand matched it with unflinching eyes.

  “I never realized how much you enjoy the constant battles and stench and death,” he said.

  “Bres.”

  “Or that the life expectancy of a faerie guarding the outer realm for all those cushy faeries is a fraction of what—”

  “It is an honor to protect our realm. If not for us, chaos would reign.”

  “Honor,” Bres spat. “This afternoon we are going up against a horde of faerie-eating ogres. Either they slaughter us or we will slaughter them.” His jaw clenched once before adding, “I hear they have a dragon.”

  Fand paled.

  “Fand.” Both Fand and Bres turned at the sound of the new voice. A woman dressed in dark armor with three feathers notched at the shoulder stood several paces behind them. Her braid hung to her mid-back, the sides of her head shaven. “I wish to speak with you.”

  Fand stood, gathering her sword off the ground and dropping it into the sheath on her belt. She and Bres bowed to the woman, and the two women walked away together, leaving Bres staring after them.

  “Since when are you spending time with that instigator?” the woman asked Fand.

  “Bres? He’s harmless.”

  “Hmm.” The woman didn’t appear convinced. They walked past tents and soldiers lounging about. Rocky stone peaks covered in gray forbidding clouds loomed over a deep forest beyond their camp.

  “We’re going into battle. Lately, you have gotten a little reckless,” the woman said.

  Fand stared straight ahead, an unyieldingness in her step. “I do what the situation warrants.”

  “Like when you took on an entire flock of wyverns by yourself? You almost got torn to bits.” Her sharp tone didn’t mask the pride showing on the woman’s face.

  Fand’s chin raised. “I was distracting them. The company was pinned down. I look out for my own.”

  “I know you do. You make me proud. But Fand, I see you as my own daughters.” She shook her head. “Maybe more than my own daughters, and this time—this time—please watch out for yourself.”

  “I will, Aunt Uaine.”

  Fand glanced back at the Sons of Tempest as they talked, now farther away but still within her line of vision. Arius and Dramian. Without warning, a dragon appeared, large flapping wings spread out as sunlight reflected from the rough red scales covering its body. The two men climbed onto the dragon, and it took to the sky.

  Fand sucked in a breath. “They’re leaving? They are not fighting with us?”

  Uaine followed her line of vision. “The Sons of Tempest? Did you expect them to? They have their own mission. We can handle things here.”

  Discontentment crossed Fand’s face as she watched them soar away.

  A messenger approached. “My lady.” The faerie bowed. “The ogres are on the move. You are ordered to split your division into forward and rear segments and to move to the front, taking the foremost position by the left bank of the shining stream.”

/>   “Tell General Corrigan it shall be done,” said Uaine.

  The messenger bowed.

  The older faerie woman looked to Fand. “Tell the caller to sound the horn. It is time for battle.”

  Fand bowed. “Yes, my lady.”

  She jogged over to a girl lounging by her tent, staring intently at a group of clear stones held in her palm. The horn lay to the side, tossed into some bushes.

  “Caller.”

  The girl started, then snapped to attention.

  “It is time to sound the call to battle.”

  The girl bowed. “It shall be done.” She dashed over to the horn and snatched it from the bushes. After brushing off leaves and dirt, she raised the horn to her lips, drew a lung-full of air, and let the call to battle blare across the camp.

  Fand lined up with the rest of the faeries. Bres found her and took a spot next to her without a word. The troops marched two rows deep through the trees, following a clear, trickling stream that sparkled so bright it gave off a soft glow.

  Every other faerie in front of Fand carried a length of thick woven rope. Fand and Bres marched in the second row. The trees thinned and the two lines halted. In front of them, large, towering stone peaks cast long shadows over the troops.

  As if on cue, fleshy creatures came down from the mountains, charging toward the faerie army. Fand’s shoulders tensed. They towered over the treetops. Feet pounded the earth, and gigantic maces swung, tearing trees from their roots and then launching them at the line of faeries. Dirt sprayed as a large tree crashed right in front of the lines where Fand stood. Like an electric current rushing through wire, a shock of nervous fear shot through the eyes of the faeries waiting. Several shifted in anxious anticipation.

  Fand’s face grew grim as she watched the oncoming ogres.

  “You know this fight was wholly avoidable,” Bres said from beside her.

  She gave him a look that clearly questioned his sanity.

  “I speak the truth. Those ogres are only angry because we’ve restricted their territory.”

  “We have been more than generous—”

  “Generosity isn’t enough when you used to have the entire world to roam around. Not to mention, if we hadn’t given up our powers, this fight would be over in seconds. You know that’s true.”

  Fand gripped her sword and turned on him. “That’s treason.”

  But Bres pointed toward the oncoming foaming, roaring figures, maces and axes tossing trees aside like kindling.

  “You can report me if we both survive,” he said, his face a shade of green.

  “Bring them down,” Uaine commanded from behind. “First ranks, go!”

  The faeries in the first line charged, unwinding long lengths of rope between them. They moved with swiftness, dodging the maces and axes, getting close, tangling up the feet of the closest ogres, then twining the rope around the larger trees and pulling. One faerie got caught by the swing of an ogre’s mace and crumpled against a tree. He didn’t rise.

  The hulking forms tipped and careened downward, followed by a gust of air and a crashing sound as they hit the earth with the force of a collapsing building. Uaine’s voice sounded like a clarion call.

  “Go for the eyes! Second ranks, go!”

  Fand screamed a warrior’s cry and sprinted forward over the uneven ground, leaping over the fallen trees. She raced straight for the closest downed ogre, its eyes large, dilated, and angry. Her arm raised, her sword prepared to strike.

  Right before she reached her goal, a shout brought her to a sudden halt.

  “Dragon!”

  Fand stumbled back as a stream of fire poured from above, creating a barrier between her and the downed ogres. Cries and screams signaled that others hadn’t been as lucky as she to avoid the flames.

  The dragon came around for a second pass, and Fand scrambled into the hollow of a tree to avoid burning alive. When she emerged, a forest aflame surrounded her. The crushing sound of ogres’ feet pounding, the crunch of their weapons hitting wood, and the cries and screams of her fellow faerie soldiers sounded beyond the flames. Then calls for retreat floated on the breeze. Crackling flames of red and orange pressed ever closer.

  “Fand, Fand!” Aunt Uaine’s voice sounded from a distance.

  “Here!” Fand shouted, then dropped to her knees, hacking as smoke overwhelmed her.

  The flames in front of her bent, then parted. A figure rode through the fire on the back of a dark horse-like creature with a double-pointed horn and glowing yellow eyes.

  “Bres?” she gasped between coughs.

  He held out a hand. “Get on.”

  She took his hand and swung up behind him onto the dark unicorn. They turned and rode through the flames unharmed.

  When they reached the other side, Fand shook her head. “Is this a faerie guardian? How in the name of Goddess Danu did you—”

  Hands grasped her and pulled her off the dark unicorn, wrapping her up tight.

  “Oh Fand, I thought I lost you,” Uaine said with emotion.

  Despite her aunt’s firm hold, Fand’s head turned as she took in the burning woods, now devoid of faeries. “What about the troops?” Fand asked.

  Uaine shook her head. “One dragon we were prepared for, but they have more than that. We don’t even know how many. It’s an all-out retreat. We must go now before we are caught behind enemy lines.”

  Uaine looked to Bres. “Thank you,” she said, while eyeing his steed distrustfully.

  Bres nodded.

  Uaine glanced up at the sky, then shoved Fand back toward Bres. “Now get to safety.”

  “What?” Fand shrieked. Bres’s arm circled her and pulled her back up onto his steed, the dark creature already streaking away.

  Fand looked to the sky. A large blue dragon with a diamond-studded forehead and huge spiked tail dropping toward her aunt, who was running away through the trees.

  “No, no! Take me back!” Fand cried.

  Bres growled low, but the dark horse turned, rushing back the way it had come. Fand drew her sword and raised it high.

  The dragon dropped, angling right, toward Uaine. Its enormous jaws gaped wide, and tentacles of flame reached for the fleeing woman.

  The dark steed leapt right into the middle of the flames, Bres and Fand still on its back. A charged energy emitted from the black unicorn, canceling out the force of the flames, and they evaporated, leaving the air sizzling with power and smoke.

  The great fiery beast soared lower, the strength of its massive wings causing Fand’s hair to stream wildly behind her.

  As the dragon passed overhead, Fand thrust her sword upward, the point lodging into the dragon’s left wing. The flying beast let out a screeching roar and crashed to the ground just past their heads. Fand’s aunt had to duck and roll in order to keep from being crushed. The dragon’s spiked tail rose and slammed into the dirt, sending moss and grass flying.

  Then it slithered off into the trees.

  Fand threw herself off the dark unicorn. “Aunt!”

  The older faerie woman hadn’t risen. “You... need to go,” she said, her voice faint.

  Fand dropped to her aunt’s side. Blood seeped through a dark hole in the prone woman’s armor.

  “Cursed creature... got me with its tail. You must leave,” Uaine said again.

  Fand shook her head. “We’ll get you to a healer, we’ll—”

  “You know they cover the dragon’s spikes with manticore poison. I have no more than a minute...” She coughed, then brushed stray hairs from Fand’s face. “Bres will get you out of here. Be brave. Live long.”

  “Auntie, I can’t—”

  Her aunt’s hand slipped from Fand’s hair and fell limply to the mossy earth.

  “Aunt? Aunt!”

  Fand clasped the lifeless body of her aunt to her chest and bowed her head. After a moment, she laid the body back against the mossy ground and stumbled to her feet.

  A hand touched her shoulder.

  “See wh
at those palace faeries subject us to,” Bres said.

  “This wasn’t them. This was that... that monster.”

  He shook his head. “Fand, Fand, we wouldn’t be fighting that monster in the first place if we hadn’t trapped him here.”

  She clutched her head. “Argh! Stop Bres! Now is not the time!”

  “Now is the time,” he answered, “because I’m offering you a choice. Join us, and I can guarantee revenge on the dragon and you will be central in bringing down the system that caused the needless death of not only your aunt but countless others.”

  She stared down at her aunt’s lifeless form. A single tear made a path down her cheek. In one swift motion, she swiped it away. “Us?”

  The red of Bres’s eyes gleamed in the firelight. “The Fomori are on the rise.”

  1

  At the Hardware Store

  Mina

  “Stay on the right side of the law, Mina. Being on the wrong side ain’t worth it.”

  —Nana

  THE FRONT WHEEL OF the shopping cart squealed. My hands slid across the plastic grip as me and my two ten-year-old co-conspirators sauntered up the aisle. I eyed the wheel. Just my luck. With dozens of carts to choose from, we’d ended up taking the one with a gimpy wheel.

  Luchta stopped midway down the aisle. The products hanging off the shelves looked to be the result of an unfortunate mating between a nail and a wooden stake. I peeked over her shoulder at the list in her hands, her thumb next to the words “rebar pins.”

  “There’s so many!” She glanced at me, a question in her eyes.

  “Here we go,” Veran breathed. His fingers squeezed the top edge of the cart.

  Luchta’s pigtails whipped around. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand why humans have to make twenty different kinds of the same thing.”

  “Stop, you two,” I said. They weren’t the same. Well, not the exact same. That was the problem. I leaned forward over the cart, then scanned the way we had come. Deserted. I didn’t see any cameras attached to the shelves or overhead. What if I missed it? A curse rose in my throat. If Arius were here—