But when all Darrishaw ever said was “yup,” and “uh-huh,” and “yes, sir” to whoever was on the other end of his earpiece, it was virtually impossible to know what he was being told, even with Ensley sneaking around in the ether.
“The President agrees,” Darrishaw said, walking back over to us. “It would be better if we struck sooner rather than later.”
“Preemptive war?” I asked. “Not expedient politically.”
Darrishaw answered, “It’s only preemptive if we commit the first act of aggression. We have no stated treaties with the elves and they aren’t covered by international law, and ideally, whatever happens will remain off the official books.”
I nodded. Sounded like deep-state shit. Off the books. Of course, he was right. Our plan wasn’t to attack the elves, it was to lure them here. They’d only come if that was what they’d intended all the while. The elves would be invading the US, not the other way around, though strictly speaking, I’m not sure the President wouldn’t have preferred we launch an assault on New Albion. But without a satellite to provide a lay of the land or to guide US missiles, a preemptive strike would have to be on foot, boots on the ground. The elves might not have firearms, but they didn’t need them. The sort of magic they used to wage wars was far more devastating, and the elves knew a little about human military tactics. The US government knew next to nothing about elven war.
“The President has ordered troops to back up your position,” Darrishaw said, flashing me a satellite map on his phone. “Are these the proper coordinates?”
I nodded. “At the confluence of the Mississippi and the Meramec.”
“The general recommends that we keep our distance. Best not to be seen. We’ll engage when the enemy is exposed and most vulnerable.”
“Assuming this works,” I said. “We still don’t know King Brightborn will make his move if we open the gate.”
“He’ll do something,” Layla said. “We can be sure of that.”
“If the elven king suspects you are opening the gate, he’ll likely think you’re doing it to destroy it like before,” Brag’mok said. “The fairies he’s been manipulating, forcing to help him under pain of death, are limited. They’ve only been able to forge portals large enough to bring three or four through at a time.”
“If that’s the case,” Layla said, “he’ll make a move soon. If he thinks we might be trying to seal the gate, he won’t waste any time.”
“But I didn’t close the gate,” I said. “When B’iff sacrificed himself, the magic blew the thing wide open. It didn’t close.”
“But what if you do the opposite? Say, rather than overwhelming the ley lines with magic, you draw from them and extract as much magic as possible.”
I shrugged. “Can I even do that?”
“I’m not certain,” Brag’mok said. “Elemental power is not well understood on New Albion. We have those who can wield it, but we always believed it was just a difference in how the individual engaged the magic. We didn’t know that different kinds of magic run together through the ley lines.”
I shook my head. “I wish Aerin was here right now. She’d know what to do.”
Layla nodded. “I never thought I’d say it, but I agree. We could use her insight about now. Where the hell did she go?”
I shrugged. “Probably went dress shopping.”
“Not funny, Caspar.” Layla shook her head.
“I was joking, Layla. You realize I’m not marrying her no matter what.”
Layla asked, “What if we’re wrong and she’s right? What if you have to in order to save the world?”
I rolled my eyes. “A prophecy is a sign of things that will come to pass. I can’t imagine any scenario that would require a marriage to get a strategic advantage over your dad.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Brag’mok said. “King Brightborn’s primary objective is to conquer Earth, but if he suspects you’ve spurned his daughter for another and she returns to him in remorse with something he could use, that could work.”
“What could we possibly give him that he’d want?” I asked.
“Me,” Ensley said. “If I go with her, the fairies he’s using will follow my command. We could bring his legions here.”
I was puzzled. “Why would I have to marry Aerin to make that happen?”
“King Brightborn is in communication with his operatives here,” Brag’mok said. “If your wedding is public like your trials were…”
“He’d have reason to believe you did reject me,” Layla finished.
I grunted. “I can’t do it. I’m not marrying her. I’m not marrying anyone other than Layla.”
Layla cocked her head. “You want to marry me?”
“Of course I do!” I said.
Layla smiled a little. “I suppose I knew that, but hearing you say it is good.”
“Besides,” I said, “Aerin isn’t here, so the point is moot.”
“I’m just saying,” Brag’mok said. “It isn’t strictly true that there might not be a strategic reason to do as the drow intends.”
“What is going on?” Darrishaw asked, moving toward our group. “Are you reconsidering the plan?”
“Not at all,” I said.
“It’s just a possible Plan B,” Brag’mok added.
“More like a Plan Z,” I snapped. “Too risky, altogether unacceptable, and we don’t even know where the people we’d need to pull it off are. So to answer your question again and more emphatically this time, there have not and will not be any changes to the plan.”
“Understood,” Darrishaw said. “I’ve been told that you should expect a small contingent from the National Guard there within the hour. Two at most.”
I cocked my head. “An hour? That’s fast.”
“The President has deemed this a critical matter of national security. You’d be surprised how quickly we can mobilize, and he’s had this in the works since we left DC. He wants this handled quickly, discreetly, and forcefully.”
“Forcefully?” I asked.
“To leave the enemy no doubt that we mean business and are more than capable of defending ourselves,” Darrishaw said.
Layla winced. She didn’t say it out loud, but I could tell from the look on her face that she wasn’t convinced a small contingency of the National Guard would be enough.
I wasn’t either. How forceful would that be when King Brightborn intended to bring a legion to Earth that he believed could dominate the world? But Darrishaw also made it clear that the President wanted this handled discreetly. I suppose a large-scale mobilization would be anything but discreet.
But I had to wonder if they underestimated Brightborn. If I couldn’t stop him, how long would they insist on discretion? It wouldn’t be long before the elves forced the issue into the open. Then everyone would be asking, if the President knew this was coming, why didn’t he do more to stop it at ground zero?
Chapter Thirty-Three
When the plane landed, a military convoy was waiting for us. It was a step down from the limousine and armored car escort we’d had before. I’d given Darrishaw the location: the confluence of the Meramec and the Mississippi, which was also the confluence of the ley lines.
There was one major problem with Plan A. I wasn’t sure how to channel pure magic into the ley lines. Step one: overcharge the lines, blow the gate open. Step two: pull magic out of them to give Brightborn the impression I was trying to close the gate.
The first part was to give him the opportunity. The second was to let him know it was only available for a limited time.
But elemental magic? What I’d done so far had brought the elemental powers to the forefront in me. Then I had manipulated the elements that were already there using that power. I had fairy magic, of course, and I could make portals. With Ensley’s help, I could probably make one directly to New Albion. If Brightborn’s assassins had done it with lesser fairies, we could do it too. But this wasn’t a temporary portal. It was an intersection of le
y lines that, together, had been manipulated by ancients to create a permanent connection between Earth and New Albion.
It wasn’t originally done here in St. Louis. The ancient druids, who later evolved into elves, and the giants came from what was then known as Albion, now Britain. Somewhere in Wales, I think. At some point, another gateway was forged that connected New Albion to the confluence of ley lines here in St. Louis of all places.
I couldn’t draw pure magic out of nowhere, but I could use the magic inside me to engage the magic in the ley lines. Earth magic was the magic of the elements. With all five at my disposal, as I stood at the confluence of the ley lines, I could sense a connection.
I’d engaged the magic from the ley line beneath the Meramec before, but not the Mississippi, which was the stronger of the two. I’d have to draw magic from both sides and force it into the confluence, where the gate usually formed.
In theory, if it caused a surge like what had happened when B’iff died and the Blade of Echoes was cast into the source at Meramec Springs, it should blast the gateway open.
Then it would push all the magic away like Moses parting the Red Sea, only I’d have to push the magic in four directions. Just enough to weaken the gate, to tempt the elven king to move before he was prepared.
Presuming he wasn’t prepared already.
I couldn’t say I was sold on our plan, but it was the best option we had. I just didn’t like the idea that so much depended on what Brightborn decided to do.
What if he realized we were bluffing?
I didn’t know if it would even work. I couldn’t keep the confluence devoid of magic indefinitely. The ley lines would eventually force magic back to where the gate was forged.
“Ensley,” I asked as the shocks on the military transport vehicle we were in bounced me up and down, “this gateway was originally forged through a partnership between fairy and human, correct?”
“Originally, yes,” he said.
“Is there any reason we couldn’t just seal the gate permanently? If we could just close it, why would we need to blast it open?”
“Because my father has other ways to get here,” Layla reminded me.
“Indeed,” Ensley agreed. “He still holds enough of my kin that even if he has to portal three or four legionnaires at once, eventually he could get his whole legion here.”
“How do we know he hasn’t been doing that?” I asked.
Ensley shrugged. “If he has, they’ve remained disciplined. I haven’t sensed any use of magic, or none apart from when you were conducting the trials.”
“And they used that as cover to steal the artifacts from the drow,” I said, shaking my head.
“If Brightborn takes the bait,” Brag’mok said, “this is the best opportunity we will have.”
I shook my head. “Something about this just isn’t sitting right with me.”
“We could still wait for Aerin to return,” Layla said. “I don’t like Brag’mok’s idea either, but it wouldn’t be real. It’s just a ceremony, right? Nothing says you’d have to consummate it.”
I raised my eyebrow. “You’re seriously considering that idea after all the jealousy before?”
“I know you love me, Caspar. This would just be a formality. It isn’t like a wedding is a magic spell that forces you to fall in or out of love with someone.”
I shook my head. “Not magical, but it is meaningful. Which is why divorce is so painful. What God has joined together, let man not separate.”
Layla cocked her head. “So now it’s religion that’s the issue?”
“Yes and no,” I said. “It’s that. My beliefs about marriage, sure. But it’s also my experience. Look, it’s not an option. I don’t care what her prophecy says.”
“It isn’t just her version of the prophecy,” Layla said. “I mean, our prophecy spoke of love. Hers, it seems, speaks of marriage. Isn’t it possible that both are right? That your heart would belong to me according to the elven prophecy, but you would marry her like the drow version of the prophecy suggests?”
I folded my arms. “I can’t believe you of all people are pushing this idea.”
“I’m not,” Layla said. “I’m just saying if you aren’t sure luring my father through the gate early is going to work, there are other options.”
“Layla,” I said. “Say we went through with it. You’d have to go back to New Albion. You’d have to pretend you were remorseful through whatever penance or punishment your elders think is necessary.”
“Most likely a series of lashings,” Layla explained helpfully.
I cocked my head. “Yeah, that isn’t happening. I’m not going to marry someone else just to send the woman I love to go get beaten to prove a false loyalty to her jerk of a father.”
Layla smiled. “Well, when you put it like that… "
“And he might kill you,” I said.
“I don’t think so. I mean, he’s still my father.”
“Who has lied to you about his real intentions your entire life, Layla.”
Layla nodded. “I suppose that’s true, but he still has a prophecy. The elves still believe in it. If I go back, it allows him to set me up with another suitor and parade the guy as if he’s the chosen one. If that happens, he might even be able to convince the elders to bypass the penance I’d normally have to suffer.”
I snorted. “So now we both have to marry people we don’t love, just to deceive your father?”
“Just an idea. Last resort sort of thing.”
“Not happening, Layla,” I said. “And if I’m honest, it hurts that you’d even consider it.”
“To save your planet, Caspar? To save both our worlds? To see the prophecy fulfilled? I’d still love you, and we’d still find our way back to each other eventually.”
I sighed. “Maybe. How do we know how everything would shake out? So much of all we’ve been planning ends at the same place. It depends on how your father decides to respond to what we do.”
“He has a point,” Brag’mok said. “In our experience fighting your father, the one thing we always knew would happen in battle was that he’d do something unpredictable.”
“It’s a game of chess,” I said. “Right now, there’s only one move we can make.”
“And we need to be prepared to make the right move after he responds,” Layla said. “Even if he doesn’t do what we’re anticipating. Even if the move we have to make isn’t one we like.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
There were tanks, several Humvees, and camouflaged trucks that probably had technical names I didn’t know. And yes, tanks. Did I mention they’d sent tanks?
“Holy crap,” I said. “Those are tanks!”
Darrishaw smiled. “I told you we’d be prepared.”
Layla smiled back. “Let's hope that’s enough.”
“These are tanks, Layla. It’s like the Chuck Norris of the military.”
“You mean, outdated and less effective than the reputation warrants?”
I gasped. “Sacrilege to say such things about Chuck Norris. You’d better hope he doesn’t find you.”
Layla rolled her eyes. “What would happen if he did?”
I stared at her blankly and ran my thumb across my throat, the universal sign that indicates throat-slashing.
Layla chuckled. “If he’s so deadly, what are we doing here? Why not just open a portal to New Albion and send Chuck Norris after the legion?”
“We tried,” Darrishaw interjected. “Mister Norris said he had a prior commitment.”
“Something more important than saving the world?” I asked.
“It’s Chuck Norris,” Darrishaw said. “Whatever he’s doing, you can be sure it’s huge.”
I giggled. At least I now knew Darrishaw was human. I’d thought he was a cyborg until now, given his stoic demeanor.
“We’ve been coordinating our plan with yours,” Darrishaw said. “Brag’mok and Layla will stay with us and provide us intelligence about what’s happeni
ng on the ground while you try to open the gate like you suggested.”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
“We took the liberty of providing a standard-issue wetsuit. We figured you’d appreciate it since the plan calls for you to get a little wet.”
“Thanks for that. Certainly better than trying to start a war in my skivvies.”
Darrishaw replied, “Of course. Also, this suit will allow us to monitor your vitals, and you’ll also be issued standard comms.”
“Comms for underwater?” I asked. “That’s pretty cool.”
“You won’t be able to speak, but there’s a basic set of controls wired into the device. One click does nothing. That’s just to avoid accidental messages. Two clicks means enemy incoming. Three means you’re clear and we should open fire on the location.”
“Is there a signal if he’s in trouble and needs help?” Layla asked.
“Press and hold the button on your comms for three seconds. But we’ll also be monitoring your vitals.”
I shook my head. “When I’m in the ley lines, I don’t need to breathe. I can’t say if my vitals will read normally or not.”
“Good to know,” Darrishaw said. “We’ll monitor for abnormalities, and if the medical team identifies anything that signals a crisis, we’ll act.”
“And someone will be in my ear the whole time?” I asked.
Darrishaw nodded. “You should be aware of our intentions. You’ll be given instructions to click twice to confirm or approve any order before we issue it.”
“And if I disapprove?” I asked.
“Click three times.”
“A lot to remember,” I said.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be in your ear. They will periodically ask you to respond in certain ways to confirm you are still viable. They may ask you to click twice, three times, whatever. If you make an error, they’ll ask you to do it again. Two errors in a row will be taken as an SOS, and we’ll move to exfil.”
“Exfil?” I asked.
“Exfiltration. It means removing a soldier, or in this case, the civilian subject from a hostile position.”
Three Dogma Night (The Elven Prophecy Book 3) Page 18