For the Reign

by Debbie Cassidy

  “Sage?”

  He was Sage, but he was reborn—larger and brighter. Power rose off him like heat from a radiator.

  He glanced over his shoulder and then back to me, sorrow etched across his forehead in a frown as realization dawned. His human host. The one that had carried him this far was gone. Dead. The Faerie elements had frozen him and set Sage free. But he looked solid. He looked real? Could the frequency of Faerie be similar to the djinn realm?

  He strode toward me and took a deep breath. “Come, we must find shelter. Our flames cannot sustain us indefinitely.”

  We trudged hand in hand through the snow, through a storm that seemed to elevate in intensity as if specifically aimed at our intrusion. Sage pulled me closer and then I was hauled off my feet and into his arms.

  “Quicker this way,” he said.

  And then we were moving fast, but the chill was getting stronger, seeping through the layer of warmth our flames were creating.

  “Dammit,” Sage growled. “What the fuck is this weather?”

  “This is new?”

  “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Sage said. His body tensed. “I see something.” He picked up the pace, and then we were ducking into darkness and going down. A cave, thank God.

  The raging of the storm died and faded away into a gentle hum. Sage stopped and lowered me to my feet. It was dark, but there was enough light filtering in from the entrance to see by.

  “We’ll be safe here for a while. Until it calms outside.” But he didn’t sound too sure.

  “Sage, what the heck is going on?”

  He lowered himself to the ground, leaning up against the stone wall. “Honestly, I’m not sure. This … All of this feels wrong.”

  I lowered myself to the ground beside him. “Explain.”

  “The place smells off, and that storm is fury and death. Even if we did emerge in the Winter Lands, a storm like this is something unnatural.”

  “Honestly, I know nothing about this place. Winter Lands?”

  “Faerie has many aspects and many doorways that lead in and out of the mortal realities. Its landscape is mutable, navigable only by landmarks, and there are several versions of it. Faerie is basically a miniverse.”

  “A what?”

  “Humans think of time as a linear concept, but time is more like a coil; it winds around and around, and one point can touch another, and each time it does, a doorway is created. Faerie is a coil, and the residents, the Tuatha de Danann, are able to move between the layers of time. They can move through these doorways and exist in every time or all time.”

  “My head hurts.”

  He laughed. “It’s what makes Faerie so special, so unique, and it is the only immortal realm that has direct access to the mortal realm.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  He sighed. “Let me see if I can explain. Take the djinn realm, for example. There are no direct doorways; the djinn realm is vast, spread across seas and continents, and the djinn who inhabit it are varied and unique, which means the manner in which they interact with the mortal realm is also varied. For example, there are some djinn continents that refuse to interact with humans at all, and consider themselves above humanity; there are others that have merged so completely with the mortal realm that they are forced to coexist with humans. The djinn realms exist parallel to the many mortal realms, and in order to get into the mortal realm, doorways must be created using vast amounts of energy. Artificial entrances which we then hold open using our advanced magicka, or what you may call technology. The only other way to access the mortal realm is via the underworld, and only by the dead.”

  “And you think something is wrong?”

  “I know it is. This place, the very air usually sings, but there is only silence and hunger in the atmosphere now. Something has happened, and we need to be wary.”

  “But this is definitely the Winter Lands?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “So, what now?”

  “We wait out the storm and then we find our way to the city to see the Winter King.”

  “You know him?”

  “I did. A long time ago. Maybe he can shed some light on what’s become of this place.”

  A gust of icy air made it into our sanctuary. It swirled on the ground before us in a mini tornado before whipping back out of the cavern. There was no draft in the cavern, no air pressure to have caused the icy gust to behave like that. It was eerie and completely unnatural.

  Sage had gone completely still by my side.

  “Um, Sage, you saw that, right?”

  “I saw it.”

  We sat in silence for a long minute listening to the storm have its tantrum outside. It sounded like it was right above us. Sage put his arm around me and pulled me closer.

  “It will be all right,” he said softly. “Storms don’t last forever.”

  “Let’s not kid ourselves, this is no regular storm. And that swirly air shit, that wasn’t normal, it was almost like … Like it was spying on us.”

  Sage’s arm flexed. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I just didn’t want to spook you.”

  “Dammit, Sage, you know better than to coddle me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I scrambled to my feet. “I say we get out of here. We find a way through the storm to the city. We look for the landmarks or whatever it is we need to find to get us where we need to go.”

  Sage rose. “It’s a risk. If our heat runs out while we’re still in the storm …”

  “My gut tells me it would be worse to stay here.”

  He nodded. “Okay. But you stay close, you keep hold of my hand, and if by some chance we do get split up, you find shelter and you wait for me to come for you, because no matter what, Eva, I will always find you.”

  Goosebumps pricked my skin. “We’re going to be fine.”

  He nodded, but his face was stern. Too stern, and something inside me took over, a voice, a whisper, a tingle in my soul that begged me to taste him, to banish the worry and the doubt. I clasped the nape of his neck and guided his mouth to mine. The kiss was deep and passionate, and the flame inside me surged upward as if eager to escape. He swallowed my gasp, hand splayed over my back as he held me immobile, as he pushed his fire into me, lighting up every synapse and nerve ending. We parted, both panting as if we’d run a sprint.

  His eyes seemed to glow brighter now, filled with a fresh fire, and the heat in my solar plexus burned hotter.

  His smile was smug. “You ignited us.”

  “I kissed you.”

  “That was no ordinary kiss.”

  I couldn’t help the grin that curved my lips. “Is it ever?”

  He chuckled, low and deep and sexy. “Come on, before I forget my resolve and why we’re here and make use of this new heat right up against the wall.”

  “Okay, now that sounds way too appealing. We should go.”

  Sage led the way back up the tunnel to the surface. The sounds of the storm grew louder and more violent until they were practically on top of us, and then the cold was licking at my skin and the wind was tearing at my clothes. Even with the fresh fire inside me to keep me warm, the chill was like needles against my flesh. Wincing and gritting my teeth, I took Sage’s hand and allowed him to lead me through the bitter blizzard.

  We walked for long minutes fighting the gale that battered us, that made each step feel like a challenge, that made it hard to draw breath, let alone speak. The only constant was Sage’s warm, solid palm against mine and his strong fingers wrapped around mine. We walked, and we stumbled, and we managed to remain upright. My toes grew numb, and my face felt like a mask. My flame was ebbing. How long had we walked?

  The blizzard pressed in on us, the flakes of snow like tiny razors. For a moment, Sage was completely obscured and the only reminder of his presence was his hand in mine.

  No escape.

  What? What was that?

  Stop fighting. No escape.

  What
was that?

  Sage’s grip on my hand tightened, as did the pressure between us, the storm that was suddenly a viscous thing trying to separate us. It was trying to pull us apart.

  Alone. Forever alone. No hope.

  The words seeped into my mind like a phantom chill in my brain. Alone, I was … No! I had Sage. I had … His hand? Where was his hand?

  A gust of air hit me in the chest and pushed me back, my footing slipped, and my ass hit the soft snow.

  “Sage!” My scream was torn from my lips and swallowed by the storm.

  Had to get back up. I had to find Sage. This storm, this fucking storm wasn’t what it seemed it was—

  Tendrils of air wrapped around me, lifting me off my feet, and then I was airborne, blinded by snow. My body made contact with something hard and rough. The bark of a tree? Pain lanced through my arm and throbbed dully in my shoulder. I pulled myself up using my flame for strength. It was still there, still burning, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was the only thing that was keeping the true power of this preternatural storm at bay.

  Find shelter and I’ll find you, Sage had said.

  Trees meant forestland and maybe a reprieve from the full effects of this blizzard. Using my hands to guide me, hands on the bark of the tree, I stepped forward, one foot at a time, until my fingers grazed more bark, another tree, and then another. With each step the roar of the blizzard grew muted until I could finally think again. Sage was somewhere out there, trapped in the storm. I had to get to him.

  No, you need to stay put.

  Dad’s voice in my head. No. Not Dad’s voice. My common sense. Mine. Yes. Staying put was best. Sage would find me. He knew this world. Besides, my flame was weaker than his, and if I ventured forth, the flame could die and then I’d be fucked.

  Stay put, Sage had said, and that had to be the plan. I pressed my back to the tree and waited. The muffled sound of the storm raged around me and then another sound cut through it, a tinkling like the distant sound of bells.

  My feet carried me forward toward the sound, light and high and beautiful. Where was it coming from?

  Stay put.

  One moment. I had to see what that sound was. The storm faded as I made my way through the trees toward the sound of tinkling bells. The forest around me began to thin, and the storm grew louder again. The next moment, the forest was behind me and the blizzard was back. Through the whirling flakes, far down below, was the twinkle of lights and the definite tinkling of bells.

  A village.

  Civilization.

  My feet wanted to step toward salvation, but Sage’s face swam into my mind. He was still out there somewhere on the other side of the forest. I glanced back at the tree line and the chill enveloped me, seeping through my clothes as if they were made of gauze and kissing my skin with its teeth. Heading back meant freezing to death. Looking for Sage was out of the question, because my flame wouldn’t last. Dammit. Please be okay. Please …

  Battling the elements, I began to trudge down the rise toward the valley. Each step was an effort, plunging my boots into several inches of snow. The storm chased me, pushing and pulling at my clothes and screaming in my ears, and then a new timbre of howl joined the wail of the wind. My hackles rose.

  Shit.

  I’d know that sound anywhere. I’d heard it too many times not to recognize it.

  It was the sound of a pack of wolves.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I picked up the pace, stumbling and righting myself. The village was so close yet too far, and then the source of the fresh howls appeared in the periphery of my vision as streaks of white fur against glistening snow. The huge shapes sprinted toward me, gaining rapidly. Fear wrapped a fist around my throat, because there was no way to outrun them. There was nothing to do but draw my sword and stand my ground with the village at my back and the bells a symphony to accompany what was about to happen.

  The white wolves stopped and began to circle me, their ice-blue eyes tracking my very breath. Dammit, why weren’t they attacking? As if spurred on by the thought, they leapt at me as one. My body reacted in defense, spinning and sweeping my sword in an arc parallel to the ground. The wolves snapped and faltered. Some backed up, but the bolder ones pushed forward. There was only so long I’d be able to hold them off. Running wasn’t an option, not in this depth of snow. My heart sank but my limbs continued to work, continued to keep the wolves at bay.

  Fight.

  Keep fighting, Eva.

  Tobias? Yes. I’d keep fighting because that was who I was. Survival was woven into my every fiber. Survival was why I’d been created. My sword swished and cut through the air, catching one of the wolves and painting the white with splashes of crimson. A yelp was followed by an increase in snarls. My swing fell short on the next sweep, and the shadow of a wolf to my left brushed my shoulder, leaving fire in its wake. More crimson sprayed the white, this time mine.

  The pain was sudden and fierce. My knees buckled, and I caught myself in time to ward off a wolf to my right with a stab of my blade. Spin, sweep. Keep up the tempo. Oh, God, my shoulder … The chill … My flame …

  Keep fighting …

  But I was flagging and the wolves knew it; their attacks became frenzied and excited as they scented the blood-soaked despair. Their eyes glowed eerily against all the white, and their bodies merged with the snow, blinding me. Where? What? I stumbled, and my knees sank into the snow.

  The wolves closed in.

  It was over. There was nothing but fangs and fur and death for me.

  “Begone. Begone, abominations!” The command came from behind me, rising above the blizzard like a wave of hope, and then a figure stepped around me, tall and cloaked. “Begone, or face my wrath,” the man ordered.

  The wind seemed to cry louder, and the wolves tipped back their heads and howled, the sound so mournful and filled with grief it tore at my soul.

  “Begone, minions of Rayne.” Ice shot from his palms, hitting the wolves and driving them back. They turned tail and ran, bounding across the snow as if they were light as feathers, leaving no tracks and melting into nothing like will-o’-the-wisps.

  The figure watched them leave, and then his shoulders sagged. He turned his hooded head in my direction, and my breath caught. I’d seen beautiful men before—the Fangs, Noah in particular, were beautiful—but this man, this being with his long silver hair and his eyes so blue they looked as if someone had set sapphires into his face, was stunning.

  “Come.” He held out a hand to me. “Let me help you.”

  The tenor of his voice was a melody, not too deep, but deep enough to resonate within me. I reached for his hand and a lance of pain shot through my shoulder.

  “Shit.”

  “You’re hurt.” He leaned down, bringing the scent of frost and evergreens. He examined the wound, his touch light. “It’s not deep enough to need mending, but a healing poultice will be required. Let me help you up.”

  I allowed him to wrap an arm around my waist and haul me to my feet, but once I was upright he didn’t let go straight away.

  “I’m fine. I can walk.”

  I looked to the forest. The wolves had run that way. What if they found Sage? What if they hurt him? I couldn’t just leave him to their mercy.

  “I have to find my friend. We got separated on the other side of the forest. I need to go back for him.”

  He smiled. “Sage is safe. Hurt, but healing. He sent me to look for you. And you’re lucky I found you when I did.”

  “Sage is all right?”

  “Yes. But you’re bleeding, and your lips are turning blue.”

  Cold … That’s what it was—this numb feeling, this nothingness, because my flame was now truly dead.

  “Take me to him.”

  His grip tightened, and he looked down his nose at me, a slight smile on his face. “It will be quicker if you allow me to carry you. You seem to have made quite an impression in the snow.”

  I glanced down at the d
eep tracks that I was calf deep in and then at his boots that sat easily on the surface of the snow.

  “How?”

  “It’s a gift.” His grip tightened a fraction. “May I?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but he was already lifting me into his arms. The bells tinkled in welcome as we made our way toward the waiting village.

  The beautiful stranger carried me toward the silent village. Closer to the sound of the bells. We left the blizzard behind at the border to the village, where a sign saying Merryville hung suspended between two thick wooden posts. The bells continued to ring, but where was the sound coming from?

  The man carried me past a frozen fountain and over frosted cobblestones and awnings heavy with snowfall. There was no one about, and if not for the lights in the windows I’d have labeled it a dead town.

  “I can walk.” I pushed against the stranger’s chest.

  “Very well.”

  He set me on my feet and then looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. “Follow me. Sage is at the tavern.”

  We cut across the square where a small brick arch took the spotlight, a large curved horn hanging from it, balanced on two large hooks. The bells grew louder.

  I covered my ears. “Damn, do those bells ring incessantly?”

  He turned to me with a frown, and the bells stopped ringing as if someone had flicked a switch. His gaze slipped over my head and settled on the horn.

  “The horn of Cernunnos,” he said softly.

  “Cernunnos?”

  He raked me over, and this time his regard was slightly too intense. “Cernunnos was a friend, a warrior, and god able to tame the dead. Cernunnos was the reaper of souls, but he’s gone now.” His gaze flicked up to the sky. “Come.”

  He led me quickly toward a quaint building with shuttered windows and a sign that read The Silver Mask. The stranger rapped three times on the door, paused, and then rapped twice more. After a long beat, the door swung open. Delicious heat blasted out into the night, caressing my face and drawing me forward. The beautiful man ushered me in first and then followed, closing the door firmly behind him.