As much as she had learned over their journey, as skilled with the blade as Fjell was, would it be enough to defeat the dark witch without the blessed blade? Her mind spun through possibilities, what they already knew the dark witch was capable of, what they could do to counter her spells and curses. Her hand came up to rest against the raven medallion Fjell had made for her.
Astud preened a lock of her hair, drawing her back to the present and she glanced over at the spirit beast. Part of her wanted to be irritated with the raven, but in the end, she had chosen to follow its suggestion, despite Lady Isabel’s warning that it could go awry. Her heart ached with worry, but the spirit raven just tilted its head to the side, blinking at her.
“If you are ready to depart, our mounts stand ready,” Lord Ailbhe said.
Turning her gaze back to her companions, Marsilia nodded mutely. Astud flew off her shoulder, circling in the sky above them as they made their way to where servants awaited with the two great mountain goats and Ailbhe’s white horse. As she came up to Meyla’s side, Fjell came over to help her into the saddle but hesitated, looking down at her with concern.
“Don’t give in to worries, elskan min,” he said quietly, wrapping a hand around the back of her head as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “We can still do this.”
Swallowing, Marsilia looked up, meeting his gaze. “Do you really think so?”
“Aye,” he answered, but she could see the trace of worry in his eyes.
“Marsilia,” Eogain called.
The white witch looked around Fjell to see the sorceress approaching them, her vibrant orange hair streaming behind her as Lady Isabel followed at a more stately pace. The dwarf moved aside as she approached, reaching down to take Marsilia’s hand. As the sorceress stopped before them, she held out her hand.
“Let me see the blade,” she demanded.
Fjell and Marsilia glanced at each other before the dwarf drew the blade and laid it across his hands to display for the sorceress. Taking the blade from him, Eogain frowned, examining it.
“It was Astud who made the suggestion?” she finally asked, looking up at each of them.
“Yes,” Marsilia said, frowning. The raven cawed overhead.
“The Fates should have already given it purpose,” the sorceress muttered, running a finger across one of the red swirls. “The latent power is potent, but it feels like it is melding with the enchantment.”
“What does that mean?” Marsilia asked, repressing her frustration. “Can you fix it?”
“I don’t think there is a ‘fix’ for this, Marsilia,” Eogain answered. “It isn’t broken; it is just still forming itself.”
Furrowing her brow, the witch glanced up at Fjell. He frowned back down at the blade and shook his head when she caught his eye. Turning back to the elven sorceress, she chewed on her lip in thought.
“How long until it finishes whatever it’s doing?” she asked.
Sighing, Eogain offered the blade back to Fjell. “I cannot say,” she said. “It could be minutes or hours or even a day.”
“How will we know when it’s done whatever it is doing?” she pressed as the dwarf began to resheath the blade.
“It’s fae magic, Marsilia. You have enough of an understanding that you should be able to feel it,” Eogain said with a frown.
Lady Isabel joined them, Lord Ailbhe following in her shadow.
“Let her carry the blade for now, Fjell,” the Lady said. “It will be useless to you until it has finished blending the two magics into the purpose the Fates have deemed for it. I would suggest you two do not engage the dark witch until the Blessing of Equinox finishes forming itself.”
“Aye, alright,” Fjell answered, handing the blade to her.
As soon as she touched the hilt, she felt exactly what Eogain and Isabel had been talking about. Raw fae magic pulsed from the blade, even within the scabbard, in flux. She drew the blade a few inches, looking over the blood red spirals. Within them she could see the faintest beginnings of a design starting to show.
Raising her gaze back to her companions, she managed a small smile caught between relief and nerves. “I can feel it.”
“Good,” the Lady said, then gave them each a faint smile. “Best of luck to you both in your coming battle. I expect you to be victorious and bring me news of it all when it's done. We’ll have a feast to celebrate.”
Eogain leaned over, squeezing Marsilia’s hand briefly. “Good luck,” she said.
“Thank you both,” Marsilia answered.
“Aye, thank ye,” Fjell said, then looked down at her. “Are ye ready?”
Taking a deep breath, the witch nodded. “I am.”
When her bow and arrows were settled in the saddle sheath and Fjell had helped her up into the tall saddle, Astud flew down and perched on her shoulder once more, and Marsilia met the spirit raven’s eyes as she waited for Fjell to mount.
“I wish you could tell me what this was going to do, why you wanted that gem to be bound in the blade,” she sighed.
Astud tilted its head to the side and reached over to preen a lock of her hair again in reply. With final goodbyes to their hosts, Fjell and Marsilia fell in behind Ailbhe as he led them through the open gate into the Autumn woods.
They traveled for a couple of hours, the two warriors making amicable conversation, even as they both kept keen eyes to the woods around them. Marsilia remained largely quiet, running over and over in her mind the lessons Eogain had imparted on her.
“This is the place,” Ailbhe said, drawing the witch from her thoughts as he brought his horse to a halt.
Marsilia laid a hand on the hilt of the blessed sword as the elf dismounted. The magic of the blessing still swirled in turmoil beneath her fingers. Dismounting as well, Fjell came over to help her down.
“Will ye be able to shift Meyla and Musa with us?” he asked the elf over his shoulder.
Ailbhe considered for a moment. “I could shift you two first, and then your mounts, but each time I use my magic in the Mortal Realm, it increases the chance of the dark witch sensing my presence.”
“I don’t want to risk them in the fight,” Marsilia said, looking up at Fjell, then to the elf lord. “Would you be able to see them home for us?”
Ailbhe politely inclined his head. “I am certain Isabel would not mind having some of our staff guide them home.”
“It’ll limit our mobility,” Fjell said with a small frown, looking down at her.
She smiled faintly back up at him. “And free us to take the denser paths that I know through the woods.”
“Aye, alright,” he said with a nod and went back over to Musa to retrieve his helm and shield.
Gathering her bow and arrows from Meyla, Marsilia arranged her gear and slid the blessed blade through her belt.
“Are you both ready?” Ailbhe asked.
Taking Fjell’s hand, the witch nodded.
“Aye,” the dwarf answered with far more confidence than she was feeling.
Reaching forward, the elf lord laid a hand on each of their arms and the Fae Realm vanished in a swirl of snow.
Chapter 40
The swirl of snow fell away revealing the Mortal Realm and Fjell’s stomach sank. The trees stood withered, spring buds shriveled to husks, the green leaves that had been forming when they left hung dead on the branches. Mud slicked the ground, even the moss that was normally so abundant browning and dying. A few feet from them, a scattering of snow fairies lay dead on the ground.
“I must go,” Ailbhe said, looking at the dead fairies as well.
“Yes,” Marsilia said, her hand still holding Fjell’s as she stared in horror at her woods. “Yes, thank you for your help, Lord Ailbhe.
Turning back, the elven lord clasped Fjell’s arm, then inclined his head politely to Marsilia. “Fight well,” he said, and then vanished in another swirl of snow.
“We need to find where the kerling is,” Fjell said, releasing his seidkona’s hand to put on his helm. “H
as the Blessing of Equinox finalized itself yet?”
“No,” she sighed, then turned to Astud. “Please find the dark witch for us. We must keep our distance until the blade is ready.”
Astud ruffled its feathers, bobbed once, and then took off into the grey skies overhead. Fjell watched it go, frowning to himself before looking back at Marsilia. She stared around the woods with such pain in her gaze he felt his heart break alongside hers.
“She’s killed my home,” his seidkona finally said, raising her gaze to meet his.
“The woods will regrow,” he answered quietly. “Let’s just focus on saving the fae creatures that have survived, aye? I’m sure many heeded yer warning to hide away.”
He watched as she nodded, returning her gaze to the woods, straightening her shoulders with resolve and growing anger. Drawing his sword, he looked up to the sky, watching for Astud. They needed to move soon. The use of Ailbhe’s magic would have been like a beacon to the kerling, the possibility of stealing an elf lord’s power too great to resist.
Astud’s cry sounded in the distance. A moment later the spirit raven came back into sight, soaring down to alight on Marsilia’s outstretched arm.
“Near or far?” she asked the spirit.
“Near,” the bird answered in her voice.
His seidkona flashed a glance up at him, worry in her gaze, before looking back to the bird.
“Lead us away from her, please,” she requested urgently.
The spirit bird took wing once more, flitting from branch to branch as Marsilia followed. Fjell fell in behind her, keeping a keen ear to the woods behind them. Near. How close was ‘near’?
Clouds continued to gather overhead, darkening the sky and threatening rain. As they continued to follow Astud’s lead, they broke from the treeline onto the path they had traveled what felt a lifetime ago, perhaps only a mile or so away from Rohesia’s cabin. Fjell paused, glancing back to the woods behind them. In the darkening day, the shadows blended together without enough contrast for even his eyes to make out any possible movements.
“I don’t like being on the road,” he said, looking back ahead.
He took in a sharp breath. Marsilia stood in the middle of the road, Astud perched upon her shoulder. A dense fog roiled and billowed across the ground between them and the hedge-witch’s cabin, obscuring everything beyond it.
“Fy fanden,” he whispered, stepping up beside her. “What is that?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, her brow drawn together. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing as thunder rumbled overhead. “Someone is controlling the fog, the weather,” she murmured, her brow furrowing further before her eyes flashed open and her gaze jerked up to him.
“Fjell! Elder Rohesia’s cabin! I think she’s attacking it! I can feel the storm strengthening there!”
“The Blessing, is it—” he began, but she shook her head.
“We can’t wait. We have to stop her now,” Marsilia insisted, fear and determination etched across her face.
“Aye,” he answered. “Can ye part the fog for us?”
“No, I’d have to wrest control of the storm away from the kerling,” she said, jogging quickly towards the undulating gloom. “It would give away our approach.”
The fog swallowed them and only Marsilia’s black dress allowed him to keep sight of her—even when she was close enough to touch. Every hair on his body stood on end. He trusted Marsilia’s judgement not to part the fog, but it left him as blind as their target to what approached.
The sounds of thunder grew closer, shaking the very fog around them with each clap. Fjell’s hand gripped tighter on his sword.
“Marsilia,” he said quietly when a pause in the rumble came. “Let me take the lead, aye? And be ready to try and wrest that storm away.”
“Alright,” she answered, letting him step past her.
Raising his shield, Fjell began a more wary approach. Beastial screams echoed through the fog from ahead of them as flashes of lightning were followed by more claps of thunder. As they came into the clearing around Rohesia’s cabin, he stopped.
A pair of demonic dogs like those they had fought before lay dead at his feet. In the fog ahead, he could just barely make out the still forms of yet more beasts, and beyond that he could hear the snarls and yelps of even more of the creatures as lightning rained down upon them.
“Part the fog,” he called over his shoulder to Marsilia. “Leave the lightning!”
His seidkona began a high chant behind him. A heartbeat more passed and a wind gusted straight down from the sky, clearing the fog around the house. Two dozen demonic dogs surrounded the cabin, sleek and black, eyes glowing sickly green. Half of the windows on the cabin were broken out, and deep gouges marred the window sills and door frame. Lightning continued to rain down, some striking beast, but most striking burnt earth. Rohesia stood in one of the unbroken windows, eyes wide and teeth bared as she conducted the storm.
“Go!” Marsilia called behind him, her brow drawn down and eyes wide in determination. “I’ll hold the lightning from you until Rohesia sees your aid!”
With a single nod he charged forward, placing his full trust in her to keep that lightning at bay.
* * *
Marsilia grit her teeth as Rohesia attempted to wrest the storm back from her, still not seeing them. The seidkona redirected any lightning that came down near Fjell as he began to tear into the hounds of hell. As he cleared a path towards the window where Rohesia stood watching, Marsilia felt the magical fight for the storm shift. No longer did the hedge-witch attempt to fight her for control. She was sharing its power with her.
Looking past her lover, Marsilia met Rohesia’s gaze. The hedge-witch gave her a single nod and began once more calling lightning down upon the beasts that Fjell had not yet met.
Surveying the scene, Marsilia’s brow drew together. The demonic dogs were no longer focused upon the house, but were beginning to converge on Fjell. He retreated slowly towards her, beating them back by shield and sword, but there were too many for him alone, and too close for Rohesia to chance more lightning.
Closing her eyes, Marsilia released her hold on the storm and reached towards the veil. The Spirit Realm opened before her, clearer than it had been even from the Fae Realm. She could see beyond, to green hills covered in flowers, trees laden with Spring’s glory of pink and white and purple.
Help us, she called, sending out her will, her intentions. Please, help us.
She felt a shift on her shoulder, and in her mind, she saw Astud soar forward through the veil, calling its cry across the verdant landscape, and she felt the answer. Opening her eyes, Astud once more upon her shoulder, the mist swirled around her feet, creeping back in. With a burst of movement, the fog took new shape and a pack of wolves tore from the woods, only half solid as their misty legs raced across the ground.
The spirit beasts slammed into the pack of demonic dogs surrounding Fjell, snarling and snapping, rending flesh and bone. The dwarf’s gaze snapped up to her, a fierce grin spreading across his face despite the blood that now showed on his arms and legs. With a roar of a battle cry, he laid into the pack of vile beasts with renewed vigor.
Chapter 41
Fjell roared another battle cry, ignoring the blood running down his arms and legs, and laid into the demonic beasts alongside the pack of spirit wolves. The war song coursed through his veins, the thrill of battle overcoming his trepidation about the unfinished blessing. They could do this—even without the Blessing of Equinox.
Slicing down another of the demon dogs, he found the pack of spirit wolves had already killed the majority of them and were hunting down the rest. He turned back to glance at his seidkona, a grin of victory etched across his face. Marsilia’s face was twisted in concentration, but she met his gaze, smiling grimly in return.
Turning back, he spotted Rohesia still in her window, eyes up to the clouds above as she conducted the storm. The last of the hellhounds fell in a roar of thun
der and lightning and the wolves surrounded him, guarding him. He couldn’t help but smirk. Wolves were his father’s symbol, and one he had adopted as the eldest son.
The pack of wolves turned, one by one, snarling and baring teeth in Marsilia’s direction, their hackles rising. Frowning, Fjell looked over at his seidkona and felt his stomach drop. Marsilia stood against a backdrop of utter darkness, her pale skin and golden hair shining in sharp contrast. Her eyes went wide for one split second and she began to turn too late. Shadows engulfed her.
“NO!” he screamed, pushing past the spirit wolves, leaping over the dead demon dogs.
The shadows fell before he could reach her and there was nothing where she had just stood. Panic overtook him, his breath coming in short spurts as his gaze darted around the foggy woods.
“Marsilia!” he cried, his fingers gripping uselessly at his sword and shield. “MARSILIA!”
One of the wolves at his side threw its head back, letting out an echoing howl. The others answered behind them. In a bounding leap the wolf took off, leading the pack into the dense fog ahead.
“Don’t stand there like an idiot,” Rohesia spat from the cabin door. The fog parted ahead of him, revealing the spirit wolves as they dashed away. “Follow them!”
Gritting his teeth, Fjell sprinted to follow the wolves, a pile of slain demon dogs behind them. He tamped down his panic, despite how his heart still pounded. If the wolves remained in the Mortal Realm, she must still live. She had Astud by her side and she had become powerful. He just had to find her.
He had promised her. Together.
* * *
The shadow spirits enveloped her, biting, ripping at her with claws. Marsilia screamed, but no sound came out. The wind rushed around her, around the evil spirits, and she distantly heard Fjell yelling her name. Rot and pestilence filled her nose and she gagged, unable to catch a full, clean breath, desperation growing.
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