by T. A. White
Encountering Gawain where he tangled with one of the creatures, she ordered, “Come with me.”
He frowned at her in irritation. The creature claimed his attention in the next instant and he shoved it away, swinging his sword in a mighty stroke, cleaving its body in half.
“I don’t have time to escort you inside,” he snapped.
“Look,” she pointed up.
His eyes lifted to where she indicated.
“There are more coming,” she explained. “You can’t successfully fight those above and the ones below.”
“You want us to retreat?” The scorn in that statement let her know his opinion of that option.
Shea’s sigh was frustrated. She wished it had been anybody but Gawain up here. He was probably the most hard-headed and difficult of the clan leaders to convince. There was also the fact she didn’t trust him.
This could be a mistake, but she’d spoken true. She needed more bodies to have any hope of her plan working.
There was also the fact that Gawain was a much better marksman than she was. She was passable with a blade but rubbish with a boomer or bow and arrow.
“I need your help. There’s a weapon in the Reaches above us, but I can’t do it alone,” she said, forced to explain herself despite the chaos reigning around them.
He studied her before looking over her shoulder where Trenton watched their backs. Trenton gave him a dour look, letting him know without words that he would prefer his absence.
Gawain arched an eyebrow. “Lead on, Telroi.”
Finally. The wait for his agreement had felt like it was interminable.
“Lyle, Kevin, follow us,” Gawain shouted as Shea headed for the stairs.
She just hoped they would be in time.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Do you think they got the message?” Fiona asked. She looked out over the valley in front of them, one hand resting on the pommel of her sword.
Eamon let the oblong tube the firebug had shot out of drop to his side as he somberly stared into the dark and what he knew waited out there. “I sure hope so.”
It’d taken them too long to reach the small camp Fallon had left on this side of the mist. Difficult trails and having to backtrack several times had delayed them. It meant they’d stayed just miles in front of the army of beasts.
They’d managed to reach the detachment in time to warn them to get out of the valley, but just barely. They’d hidden in the mountainsides along the valley. Thankfully, the maps Shea had given them helped them find a hidey-hole.
It was safe enough for now, but if the Keep fell, this entire area would be riddled with beasts. He doubted they’d be able to get clear before the beasts caught wind of them.
Phillip and Fiona’s men stood at their backs on an outcropping of rock that overlooked the valley. They’d decided to get as high as they could before sending up the firebug, knowing it was their best chance of warning the others.
He’d tried to send these four off, knowing the firebug would advertise their position to the enemy, but the stubborn fools had refused to listen, deciding to stay despite his orders to the contrary.
The place they’d chosen for their last stand was a good one. With the cliff at their back, they could fight without worrying about being surrounded. The mountain rose sharply behind them, making the path to this outcropping narrow, creating a bottleneck they could easily defend.
He might know the chances of surviving were very small, but he didn’t intend to make it easy on these beasts. They’d have to work to bring him down.
“Well—at least our deaths will count for something,” Fiona said.
That’s all you could really ask for in the end.
“It’s not too late for you to get out of here,” Eamon offered. “They just need one person. I can stay behind and draw them off.”
Ghost let out a scoff. “And leave you to hog all of the glory? No offense, commander, but I don’t think so.”
“I could order you,” Eamon said in a mild voice.
“Dead men don’t take orders,” Roscoe returned.
Eamon felt a stab of dark amusement. It was something Shea might have said to him once upon a time. He hoped she understood the meaning behind the two shots. It was why he’d fired one and then waited. To give the sentries on the wall time to summon Fallon. Shea would follow. She’d never been one to remain behind.
She’d keep their people behind the wall. He knew it.
“Roscoe, I bet I kill more of these beasties than you,” Ghost said with a sly smile to the man next to him.
Roscoe snorted. “I doubt it’ll matter since we’ll be dead by the end.”
Ghost lifted a shoulder. “We’ll compare numbers on the other side then.”
Roscoe’s smile dawned, deadly and dark. “Deal.”
Phillip drew his sword. “We’ve got company.”
Fiona advanced, shifting the shield she carried in front of her and slipping her arm through its straps. With the other hand, she drew her blade. “Keep it tight and don’t give into your blood lust. I’m not tracking either of you two idiots down this time so I can save your ass.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Roscoe and Ghost said in unison.
Eamon looked back one more time toward where he knew the Keep was and said a small prayer that the people within would make it through the night.
*
Shea climbed over another fallen mound of rocks, a candle held in front of her to light the way. She kept one eye on the ceiling above, the nightfliers that nested there were nocturnal and normally gone at this hour, but it paid to be careful.
They might not be part of the flock harrying the people below, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t take the opportunity for an easy meal.
“How much further?” Gawain asked.
Trenton radiated disapproval behind her, but he didn’t make any cutting remarks to the clan leader. He didn’t like Gawain’s presence, but he wouldn’t question Shea about her decision in front of the other man either—a fact she was grateful for.
She held her candle up higher, peering closely at the rock surrounding them. Was that shadow deeper than the rest? Yes.
“We’re here,” Shea said, moving across the unstable pile and slipping through the small opening.
She stepped into a long, narrow cave that looked like a tube. Two rails had been bolted into the rock floor and a strange contraption sat at the rear of the cave, a burlap sack covering it.
“Help me,” she said, making her way to the cloth covering and removing it.
“What’s this?” Gawain asked, his brow furrowed as she held the candle up to examine the contraption she’d revealed.
“Have you fired a boomer?” Shea asked. She probably should have asked that question while they were still on the battlements.
“Yes. We all have. Our clan is known for our skill with bow and arrow. The boomer was a logical tool for us,” he said, arrogance in his voice.
Shea decided to ignore the pride. If he was even as half as good as he seemed to think, she was willing to overlook the irritation he engendered in her simply with a look.
“Good. This is basically a bigger version of one,” Shea said. That wasn’t quite right either, but she didn’t have time to run him through all the ways this was different. “Just considerably more powerful.”
That would have to do as an explanation.
“And what do you want us to do with it?” he asked.
She met his gaze and lifted an eyebrow. She thought that was obvious. “I want you to shoot down everything in the sky.”
He laughed for a moment thinking she was joking. His smile faded as her face remained serious.
“How do you expect us to do that?” he asked, his voice full of disbelief. “I’ve never used a weapon of this nature before. Not to mention, look at where it is.”
They all looked at the weapon. It didn’t look like much, crouched in the dark l
ike some wounded animal. It was far from the opening in the cliff where it would do any good. While it had wheels on the bottom, it had been ages since the last time it was used. Possibly centuries.
What Shea was asking was a stretch. Quite possibly the most out-there plan she’d come up with yet. Crazy. Insane. A whole host of other words that pretty much meant the same thing. Yet, it was all she had.
“When was the last time this was even used?” One of Gawain’s men asked, appearing over his shoulder. The man reached out and touched the weapon. She knew what he felt, the smooth grain of wood—one with a warmth to it that made it feel almost alive. His expression showed his lack of conviction.
“It’ll work. The Koa has always been my people’s weapon of last resort,” Shea said. She moved to the back and began pushing. There was a sharp squealing noise, but the Koa shifted forward a few scant centimeters.
Gawain and his men shared a glance. Resignation filled Gawain’s face and he waved them to help Shea. He and his men took up positions around the Koa, helping her shift it forward inch by laborious inch.
They finally got it out from under the awning of the cave, into open air. The battle raged below them. The odds had shifted while they’d been occupied with the Koa. Fallon and his warriors were slowly being forced back into the Keep. Already they’d lost control of the first curtain wall.
There was no time to waste. She busied herself, preparing the weapon. She’d never actually used it—she doubted anyone alive in the Keep had—but her mother had made her memorize the process of preparing it for use. Just in case.
She found the five suction cup-like things on either side of the weapon’s head. They felt like flowers until they jerked, lunging up and wrapping around each finger before giving a slight pulse. They reminded her uncomfortably of a Venus Flytrap finding prey. There was a small prick on each finger and then the slow drip of her blood.
The Koa unfurled, something like vines sprouting from its base. They lengthened, until they reached the various metal rings that had been bolted into the rock around where the Koa had stopped, wrapping around them securely.
Gawain’s men backed up, eyeing the Koa with reactions somewhere between fear and awe.
Shea ignored them as the Koa continued its transformation, growing and straightening, the neck elongating towards the battle as the tightly furled sepal parted to reveal the petals at its heart as they started to bloom. Shea could see a soft glow inside where the stamen and stigma would have been had it truly been a flower.
Shea glanced over it. That should be it. That’s all the directions had said to do.
“Alright, this should be ready,” Shea said, glancing over at the others.
Gawain and his men had forgotten their fascination with the Koa and now stared down at the battle with grave expressions, able to read the chances of survival better than Shea could.
She paused in what she was doing, something in their expressions giving rise to a suspicion in her. It struck her that Gawain might actually be happy to see Fallon dead. With the attack by the beasts, there would be no one left to say he’d used deceit to engineer the warlord’s death.
An ambitious man might take advantage of that fact. Use it to his advantage to take Fallon’s place. There would be no one the wiser except for Shea and Trenton—both of whom could be easily done away with up here—with no one the wiser. All he’d have to do was throw their bodies over the drop. Gravity would do the rest.
She glanced back at Trenton where he’d stopped several paces behind them, his hand lingering near his sword, his body poised and alert. He studied the three in front of Shea, his expression blank. His gaze shifted and met hers. With a slight tilt to his head, he indicated she needed to move away from Gawain and his men.
She nodded and stepped back. The possibility of betrayal sent a sick twisting sensation to her stomach.
And here she’d just handed them a powerful weapon they could turn on Fallon and those below.
Gawain’s head turned toward her and he studied her. The moment stretched out between them, impossibly long despite the urgency of below, balanced on a knife’s edge.
Tension gathered in her muscles. She stared at him, her hand tingling with the need to go for her weapon.
“Show me how to work this,” he finally said, turning his attention to the weapon.
Shea’s shoulders relaxed. Whatever thought had crossed his mind had gone.
She glanced back at Trenton. He still looked on edge. This could still be a ruse, a ploy to lure her into complacency.
She stepped forward and pressed in two places, lifting up a latch hidden under the Koa’s leaves and pulling back the wooden knob of a slide. Wood and plant thrummed under her hands, a soft glow illuminating the dark. This decision had been made as soon as she chose Gawain to accompany her up here.
She couldn’t do this by herself. If she didn’t trust him to do this, they were dead anyway. Might as well do all she could so when she met her forebears, she could do so with pride.
Gawain watched as she showed him how to use the Koa.
“You aim through here,” she said, indicating a piece of small wood that looked like a horseshoe on top. “Then you press down on this.”
Her thumbs tapped a butterfly looking leaf on the back of the weapon. It was hard, more like wood than a leaf should be. Next, she stepped close, allowing two vines to wrap around her shoulders so she was supporting some of the Koa’s weight. It meant her chest was pushed close to its stalk as the vines created a harness around her. “Make sure your shoulders are pressed tight to this. It’ll help you maneuver.” She twisted side to side to demonstrate.
To her surprise, it wasn’t Gawain who stepped up to take the Koa from her. It was one of his men. He wasn’t much taller than Shea, a rarity among the Trateri who towered over almost all Lowlanders and Highlanders.
Shea stepped back, grateful when the vines slithered away. She let him take her place, watching as he stood still for the vines to create the harness before he twisted experimentally. He moved relatively easily as he pivoted and moved the Koa’s head up and down, aiming it at the beasts below.
There was a harsh thump—something you felt in your chest as much as heard—as he depressed the butterfly lever and the Koa’s head sparked, tiny beams of light flying out in a thin stream. The weapon bucked in his hands, only the vines from its base keeping it stationary.
“So that’s why it has to be bolted down,” Shea muttered to herself after he’d let go.
A victorious war cry ripped from his throat as a grin overtook his face. “Whew. It has a hell of a kick, and it’s virtually impossible to aim, but look at it go.”
Both Gawain and the other man looked shocked at the lethality of the weapon.
The man depressed the lever again, and Shea covered her ears to protect them from the bark of noise as he shot into the air over the Keep. Several of the bat creatures dropped, dead as soon as they were struck.
“Come on,” she yelled to the others when she could be heard again. “There are several more just like this.”
Gawain nodded, following her with an enthusiasm he’d been missing before.
She led them several slots further down in the Reaches. Not all the small honeycomb slots had a Koa. They’d either been lost over time, broken, or were removed for some unknown reason. Only a very limited number were left, scattered throughout the Reaches.
She stationed Gawain’s second man not far from the first before leading Gawain up a level. She figured spacing them apart would help cover more of the sky over the Keep.
Soon, all three men were set up with their own Koa, the cacophony of the weapons firing assaulting her ears.
Shea moved between the three, making sure the Koas were still working as they should.
“Shea,” Trenton called, sidling up to her.
“What?” she shouted back. The noise was deafening and she had to strain to hear him.
“What happens when the beasts figure out where we are and come looking for us?” he shouted. Because, they would. They’d have to if only to protect themselves from the weapon.
Shea’s heart dropped and she looked out at the sky. She hadn’t really given any thought to that possibility.
“How is your marksmanship?” Shea asked, her voice tentative. She could probably rummage up a couple of boomers. They were better than nothing.
Trenton dropped his head and cursed. “Stay close.”
“That won’t work,” Shea said. “Not with Gawain’s men spread out the way they are.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Trenton warned.
Shea gave him a maniacal grin. “No choice. It’s the only way. You take these two. I’ll take Gawain.”
“Shea,” he called as she jogged back toward the clan leader.
He must have agreed with her about the necessity because he let her go.
*
Fallon shoved a furred monster off his blade, blinking the sweat out of his eyes as he observed the battlefield around him. It was a dire sight, bringing little comfort.
They were losing. They’d been pushed back off the wall, unable to meet an aerial foe while defending against the one coming from over the wall.
It put them at a disadvantage.
If they didn’t do something to turn the tide and soon, they would be pushed back into the Keep. If that happened, things would get very difficult. They might be able to hold the Keep for a time, the narrow corridors working in their favor, but for how long?
These creatures weren’t just passing through. They were organized and fought with a frightening single-mindedness. They didn’t seem to care how many of them his warriors took down. Three more replaced every beast they killed.
A boomer barked and there was a screech above him as a bat creature fell to the ground. Fallon looked for the shooter, spotting him in a window of the Keep. Patrick’s ice blue eyes met Fallon’s before he reloaded his boomer and turned his focus elsewhere.