My face was wet with tears or blood, my eyes matted with ash, but I rose to my knees and gripped hold of Liana, jerking her loose to stamp my staff onto stone. With a deafening crack, the energy poured from the stone toward the fissure the changelings had made. I wove the energies together, but the attempt felt crude and clumsy. I tightened and pulled, drawing from my own energies and from Veil’s through the stone. When the patch was nearly complete, Chevelle’s hold on the darkness broke free to slam against the boundary like the sea to shore.
It held.
I collapsed.
After a time, Liana rolled me over, staring down at me with an expression I could not quite decipher. I looked for Chevelle, finding him on his knees across the broken stone, his gaze on mine. His eyes were no longer black. Behind him, Anvil sliced a borrowed sword through a changleing’s chest, and the fey fell backward off the ledge. Over the chasm, the last of the spellcast beasts faded into ash, its smoky figure blowing away in a quiet breeze as the dragon struggled then landed ungracefully in a heaving mass on the edge of the chasm and among broken trees.
My Seven stood scattered, their armor filthy and tattered, scouring the ground and the trees for further threat. The last of the changelings were gone. Ruby systematically rolled her whip into a coil, her red braids caked with ash. Grey’s eyes were on her, his fingers trembling and bloody. Between them, the fey lord lay on his back, shirtless and beaten.
Veil glanced down at the blood pouring between his fingers, his skin pale yellow around the wound. Then his dull amber gaze met mine. “You are a dangerous being to have around, Lord Freya.” His breath came out in a wheeze, his hair matted to his temples. “I do not think I care for it much.”
And then the lord of the high court, head of the kingdom of all fey, passed out cold.
Liana growled, gave the lot of us what was almost certainly a frown, then ordered Veil’s men to move him into the trees and build a temporary shelter in the woods.
“Will he be all right?” I croaked.
She nodded, kneeling to hand me a scrap of fabric as her dark gaze went to Chevelle. “Veil will recover.”
My Second had saved the fey lord. I’d not anticipated anything of the sort. I let my eyes linger on Chevelle. His shoulders still heaved with ragged breaths, his fingers stained dark with earth and spells. I wondered if he could recover. I wondered if he would ever be the same.
27
Frey
Ruby tended the wounds of the Seven while Liana fussed over Veil and his men. After Chevelle had gained enough strength to do so, he’d moved to my side, managing an awkward shuffle before settling in with a wince. He took the cloth Liana had gifted me and dabbed it with oils before wiping the ash from my eyes. His touch was careful, his fingers shaky, and between the ash and the exhaustion, my eyes ran with tears.
“Have we done it?” I whispered.
His gaze met mine, the only thing steady between us. He nodded once, his jaw tight with what was probably lingering pain. One side of his face was smeared with darkness, his ear caked with ash.
I had known Chevelle since he was a boy. Our bond was unbroken, our trust in each other the only thing that had ever felt sure. “Did you know for certain?” Before he’d made the attempt to hold back the darkness, I meant. Before he’d risked himself to the energy of it and of the fey.
He sighed, his gaze floating momentarily toward the others before coming back to me. “You asked me how your energy felt, what it was like for me.” His hands settled between us, the ashen rag loose in his fingers, dark with soil. I reached for them, letting my fingers twine with his. His voice was low. “It’s so strong it’s nearly overwhelming. As if it could drown me.” He swallowed, not breaking eye contact. “And yet, my own energy urges me toward it. To plunge heedlessly into that sea of power.”
That was what the darkness was. That was why it scared me.
Chevelle had known that Veil would be killed. He’d known, too, that the darkness would not be sated. After I’d felt it, even I could sense that much. It could not be sated because it was endless and unquenchable. There was no method to destroy it, only to cage it and never let it free.
I tightened my grip in his, letting my cleared gaze trail again over the chaos of the broken forest as a light wind rustled the leaves. Anvil and Steed shared a canteen, spilling water into their hands and splashing the dust from their faces. Rhys and Rider were gathering the guard’s discarded weapons, swords and knives that had been thrown asunder in the chaos of the storm clinking heavily into a pile. Near the edge of the trees, Ruby sat with Grey, patting tonic over the bare skin of his arm. He tried to bat away her ministrations, but she persisted until he wrapped a hand at the base of her neck, forcing her to look at him. For one long moment, Ruby did, and then she closed her eyes and Grey pulled her closer, pressing his forehead against hers in a gesture that was somehow more intimate than a kiss.
I looked away, my stomach turning at what had nearly happened and how close we’d come to losing everything again. Chevelle tugged my hand, and when I glanced at him, his expression was clear. “This was not a failure, Freya. This was triumph against unbeatable odds.”
I flinched but forced my lips into a small smile. It was not my victory to claim. It was my Second, the Seven. It was all of us as one.
We left Liana with Veil in the shade beneath the canopy, in what was left of the forest that edged the chasm of broken stone. She had assured us that Veil would be well, and we wanted to reach the boundary before nightfall. We rode at a relentless pace through the thick trees of the fey forests, Veil’s guard racing ahead to clear the way. I wasn’t certain any high fey would attempt to stop us, as the deadening would come for them if we were not able to put an end to its spread, but Veil had promised us his protection, and his guards had sworn to uphold his word.
We neared the barren ground later than expected, and a pack of restless wolves met us where the fey lands ended. Before we reached the settlement and Isa, the Council sentries called from the trees.
Their Council head was coming to greet us.
The wolves danced, bounding through the narrow trees, their dark fur flashing between the shadow and light. Dry brush crackled beneath our horses’ hooves, and when Junnie finally came into view, we drew our procession to a stop.
Her expression was bright. Any worry she might have had apparently fled at the sight of us well. Her cheeks were flushed from running to meet us, her hair bound in tight clean braids. Junnie’s robe swept around her as her step faltered when she came near enough to get a look at our faces, still streaked with blood and ash. Her gaze traveled over our tattered armor, lingering on Chevelle’s darkened hands. Her flush paled.
Junnie’s eyes came back to mine, her worry evident.
“The fissure at Hollow Forest has been sealed,” I said. “The changelings—the spellcasters—are dead.”
The line of her mouth hardened, and Junnie came forward to help me from my horse. “Who needs tending?”
“Ruby has seen to us.” I let my hand linger in Junnie’s longer than was necessary after she helped me down. I let her see the promise in my eyes.
She gave me a curt nod and squeezed my hand. “The horses, then.” She snapped a gesture at her sentries, and they took to the horses as my Seven managed to fall into an orderly line. Steed leaned heavily on one leg, Anvil seeming to favor an arm.
“We’ve done it,” I said. “Once we’ve had a chance to weave the magics, the boundary here and the boundary between lands will be secure enough to withstand what comes.”
Junnie’s seemed to flinch, but it was so small I wasn’t certain I’d seen it. I wiped a dirty hand across my eyes.
“Come,” Junnie told us. “Let’s get you washed and fed.”
Our pace was slow without the horses, and by the time we made it to the settlement, Junnie’s men had set up wash basins and food. We accepted the offerings gratefully, and as the water was replenished, I took note of the newly channeled stream that
cut across the land. My gaze, clear again, came to Junnie.
She gave me a tight smile. “Taking precautions.”
I glanced beyond her, toward the makeshift huts and sturdier structures of the settlement. Dark smoke rose from a few of the fire pits, figures shifting in the practiced movement of the day’s toil, of the cutting and cleaning and building that humans did by hand. I wondered still what the humans thought of Isa and her magic, but being so near the thrum of so many minds created a hardly bearable pounding and pressure in my head. Taking precautions, Junnie had said.
I didn’t suppose it could hurt. I breathed a heavy sigh, wanting nothing more than to sit down somewhere far away from there or to sleep for what remained of the day, but there was work to be done, and once it was over, the journey back to our own beds.
“Eat,” Junnie suggested.
I took a long swig of water and a hunk of bread. “Send something with us, and I vow I shall do so on the way home.”
Her expression eased with her soft laugh. “Done. Do what you are able here, and I will watch over things so that you may finally rest.” She squeezed my shoulder. “It’s been hard-won and well deserved, my Freya.”
I settled not on the barren side of the deadening, but on the lush grass of the fey lands, curling my ankles beneath my bent legs to lay the staff across my knees. Blisters burned beneath the salves and leaves Ruby had applied to my palm, but the bandage had not had time to fully set, so I scraped it free and wiped the salve on the soft grass. The exposed skin was red and torn, raw enough that just the sight of it made me feel ill. Chevelle settled beside me, and I curled my fingers closed.
“This can wait,” he reminded me quietly.
“No,” I said. “No more waiting. I want to go home.”
Rhys and Rider approached, taking watch from the sparse trees nearby, should they be needed, and Ruby sat on my other side, picking blades of grass and lining them up in a pattern on her palm. I gave her a glance then wrapped my hands around two points of the staff. Chevelle lay his palm against me, and as I grasped tighter to that connection between us—our bond—fey figures began to shift from behind the trees. High fey and lesser, beings of feather and flesh, of jutting bone and delicate wing, masters of ice and wind and fire, all watched and waited.
I closed my eyes, willing the energy within me to flow toward the stone mounted in the head of the staff. Through Chevelle, I felt the strange void that was the deadening, the darkness that was capable of stealing energy from the fey. Near the settlement it was not as powerful or as dangerous as what we’d just faced, but unlike before, in the settlement and beyond, it had been set free. It was not tied to a river of darkness but had flooded the land and was somehow spread by the human inhabitants.
Between the fey and barren grounds, I weaved my magic, dark energy and light, into a tighter barrier than the repair I’d made at Hollow Forest. I had time to do it correctly, time to leave a lasting border, a threshold to prevent the darkness from leeching more energy from the fey and their land. I felt eyes upon me, and farther out, the minds of wolves and the indistinct buzz of too many human minds. I felt Isa, the half-human girl, and I wondered if she could feel the brush of my mind as well.
When my eyes finally came open, task complete, a long line of elves watched from the barren ground. Junnie stood beside Steed, Anvil among the Council sentries, light and dark elves joined in a single cause, their postures mirrored by the fey. Isa moved to stand by Junnie, her wide emerald eyes and dark hair such a stark contrast to the golden glow of my great aunt. The girl reminded me, somehow, of my mother, and the thought made me cold.
Chevelle’s hand slid from my back, and my gaze stole away from Junnie and the girl. As my Second helped me to standing, the watching fey shifted out of the trees. They stared at the elves beyond me and then the ground, seemingly unchanged. Two wood nymphs came forward, their slender fingers reaching out, tips green and pointed with claws. The nymphs passed Chevelle and me without acknowledgment to kneel in the low grass before the boundary. They began to hum a tune picked up by a few in the crowd as several random chirps and sharp barks sounded from high in the trees. Chevelle’s breathing was steady beside me, but I knew he very much disliked the situation, not to mention the fey in general. I wanted to get my Seven out of there before the sun set on the cursed day.
Then Junnie moved forward, coming to stand before the two fey, each on their own side of the border. Between the three, quite suddenly sprang a soft green vine covered in thorns. It grew up, falling over to spread in a line, tangling with new shoots that burst from the earth with startling speed, each of them weaving, not unlike the braid of energies below them, to form a visible boundary between the fey and barren land—human land.
The vines grew thick and woody, a tall, prickling fence spreading from where we stood to far beyond what my eyes could see. Steed gave me a wary look over the burgeoning hedge, but I only shrugged. Surely, Junnie would be able to create a passage through both her magic and that of the fey.
Anvil muttered, likely words to that effect, and Junnie shook her head, not unkindly, before a massive gateway rose out of the thorns. The wood nymphs said something nasty but apparently obliged. I didn’t blame them for not wanting a single human to be able to pass, given that their presence could suck the energy—the life—out of the fey, but certainly they understood that Junnie and her men would need access to what waited on the other side. Isa and the humans would have to be looked after.
The tangling passage came to rest, the arching gateway blooming with a black flower that I presumed was the handiwork of the fey, and the wood nymphs rose to meet their brethren. Several of the watching fey flew forward, reaching out to touch and test the thorns. There was a shriek as one was punctured, blood dripping to the earth from its hands. Where its blood splattered the grass, more black blossoms sprung up, to the delighted cackles of the watching fey, who appreciated flowers from blood.
I met Chevelle’s gaze. “Yes,” I told him, answering his expression. “Time to go.”
28
Frey
We journeyed home, washed in our own rooms with clean mountain water, rested in our own beds, and had begun to heal as best we could with the help of Ruby’s ministrations. I had never been more grateful for a few days of peace.
Liana had sent word, not a missive by pixie but by Veil’s own guard, that Veil was recovering as well. I wondered briefly what the changeling might have been up to but let it fall aside for greater concerns. The deadening had been stopped. The madness my grandfather had incited was over. It was time, again, to move forward. It was what we’d been fighting for all along.
Junnie had followed after us a few days later, having spent time with the new boundary to be certain everything held in place. She’d left me with assurances, with wishes that all would be well, and with the return of the wolves.
Finn and Keaton had spent much time at the boundary between fey and elven lands, their magic strong despite the bonds of their animal forms. Junnie explained that the transference had left them able to do more with the ancient magic that made up the previous boundary than with the powers that most elves carried presently. The way she’d said it had tripped me up in my exhausted state, and I’d not had enough sense about me to ask precisely what she meant. But I’d read the journals from Asher’s study. I’d seen the book with the missing page.
Junnie thought it was a magic I was capable of. She thought it was something maybe she could do herself.
I shook my head, absently dabbing my quill into ink in the predawn light of my study as Ruby’s hands worked through my hair. She made a brief noise of disgust at its utter disobedience then tossed her hands skyward before settling them onto her hips. “It will have to do.”
I smiled at the scroll as I made another mark. “Thank you, Ruby. I’m certain you have more pressing duties to attend.”
She leaned over to, ostensibly, blow on the ink, my list in plain view. “More pressing, yes. More difficult i
s arguable.”
“What of the new recruits?”
She shrugged, sliding over to lean against the edge of my table. “Willa seems to have most of them in hand. I’ve been letting her rough them up a bit before she brings them to me. That girl was born to shape soldiers.” I leaned back to look at her, and she waved my words away before I’d even begun. “I know, managing the living and all that. She’ll be well-rounded, I assure you. Edan has her set up for some missions in Camber. She’ll learn both sides of death and the law.”
I chuckled at her promise. “Stay out of trouble yourself then, aye?”
Ruby’s emerald eyes were clear and bright. “Unequivocally.” She gave me a curt nod before turning to go.
I set my quill aside, glancing once more over the list. Ruby’s mood had improved dramatically since Grey had been put back to full duty, and her progress with healing his skin was impressive. I doubted Grey would ever be fully restored, but what was left of the marks caused him no pain, and he did not seem to mind. “There are worse scars,” he’d told me, “than those we wear on our skin.”
Those scars, I understood all too well.
Anvil rapped a knuckle on the open wooden door, and I turned to face him. “You called for me?” he asked. His gaze did not scan my attire, though Anvil had been around long enough to know I only dressed as such when I had official castle duties to attend. I beckoned him in, and he settled into the chair across from me.
“I’ve asked so much of you over the years.”
His expression cut me off, and in the silence, he said, “You’ve nay asked anything of me. It was always given of my own free will, and you well know it.”
“Let me do something for you.”
His dark gaze was as steady and calm as ever. “You’ve done all I could have wished for, young Freya. It has been my honor to serve you.”
The Frey Saga Book VI Page 13