Judged

by Liz de Jager

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Given how quickly things have moved on, I can only assume that Aelfric’s sorcerers have a far better idea of how to summon the Elder Gods than Istvan and Olga. This in itself is a terrifying thought.

  Dante is still bound, but is now looking more awake and also more horrified than before. Aelfric is holding a sword in one hand and gripping Thorn tightly around the shoulders with the other – effectively using him as a barrier between himself and the huge creature currently crawling through the ensorcelled mirror.

  All six sorcerers are firmly focused on the heavy rune-inscribed mirror. And I don’t blame them, because the creature following its brother looks even more terrifying. I clearly remember him picking me up and throwing me the length of the amphitheatre last time. Muscular, huge and horned, with an angular demonic face, he’s a nightmare made flesh.

  The god keeps straightening upright for what seems an age – and as he reaches his full height he lets out a bellow that makes my hair stand on end. The sound is raw and primal.

  ‘How many more?’ Aiden asks me. ‘How many more of them?’

  ‘Two more.’

  As if my words bring them into being, two more creatures step from the mirror. They are lithe and beautiful until they turn to look at their welcoming party, and then their glamour fades and my brain struggles to comprehend the decaying horrors staring back at us. Taller than the Sidhe on the stage, they’re smaller than their horned brother, and there’s something even more other about them. I tear my gaze away from them reluctantly to try to make sense of what else is happening.

  The sorcerer Aelfric named Lady Firesky moves towards the four gods, and says something rapidly in a high, lilting language. The way the four gods pause and swing their attention to the sorceress is terrifying. Four heads tilt in exactly the same alien way that gives me the creeps. She next uses a language that sounds guttural and harsh.

  She gestures behind her and the gods’ eyes flick to the prone body of the sleeping goddess. She then makes a sweeping gesture taking in the three kneeling Faceless and I watch, horrified, as the gods focus on their erstwhile servants. Each has a Sidhe warrior standing behind him and, as Lady Firesky gives a sign, the warriors slit their throats and they crumple to the stage. A dramatic offering to the Elder Gods, removing the servants who helped send them into exile.

  The Sidhe warriors beside the goddess step away as the gods approach their sleeping sister. The guards look remarkably calm and their movements are almost lethargic. I realize then that they too have been drugged.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I whisper to Aiden. ‘Those warriors look high.’

  ‘They are. Faeries are usually graceful, but those guys are practically falling over their feet.’

  ‘Do you think they’ve been given Glow?’

  ‘They … I mean? If they were guards you’d want them alert, why give them drugs? Do you think it’s something else?’

  I frown and shiver at the heavy magic in the air. ‘I don’t know. All I know is that we have to get Thorn and Dante away from Aelfric.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ I hiss, feeling helpless and not a little lost.

  Lady Firesky is now having an intense discussion with the four gods before her – she must have found a language that works. And she keeps pointing to the body of the sleeping goddess. The creature that first crawled from the mirror looks half-formed, and as Firesky speaks he drags himself nearer to the goddess. He leaves streaks of mud and slime behind as he moves, and it’s a slow and torturous process as he crawls on his belly and elbows. He grabs the edge of the goddess’s pallet and lifts himself upwards. He stares down at the sister who betrayed them at the dawn of time and – faster than I’ve ever seen anything move in my life – he lunges at her, his jaws wide.

  That one movement seems to trigger something. The twins rush forward in their tattered rags, their gaping maws ringed with shark-like teeth. Their large black eyes shine with bloodlust as they reach for her over their brother.

  I make to run forward, but as Aiden pulls me back the movement attracts the attention of the large horned demon. His eyes narrow and he takes a ponderous step towards us. Thorn is struggling against his father’s grip and I hear Aelfric’s surprised grunt when Thorn wrenches himself free. But he doesn’t stay free for long, because Aelfric shoves him back with the blade of his massive sword, which rests heavily against Thorn’s chest. I can see the lights gleaming off the blade and wince when I realize the blade is probably an unholy concoction of silver, iron and other metals. It must hold enough magic to actually burn through Thorn’s clothing, as I can see rips in his clothing, and red welts beneath.

  Lady Firesky, ignoring the commotion around the goddess, stalks towards Dante and grabs his hair to pull his head back. She says something to him, and her expression is vicious.

  ‘I won’t do it,’ Dante thunders at her and we can all hear him. He manages to pull his head from her grip and stares down at her with loathing. ‘Nothing will make me agree to this.’

  ‘It’s interesting you think you have a choice.’ She looks at Aelfric over her shoulder. ‘Do it now.’

  Aelfric shoves Thorn towards the horned god with a savage push before turning on the three gods devouring their sister. Aelfric plunges the sword through the back of the first twin, before withdrawing it and doing the same to the other. He retrieves the blade in one elegant move, takes a two-handed grip and strikes off both their heads in rapid succession. The final god is bent over his sister, intent on devouring her, the mud on him shudders as his brothers’ blood spills over him; the sound manages to be somehow both rich and gluttonous.

  Aelfric doesn’t pause and he flows from the two-handed strike into a graceful turn. Then, with a backward swipe of the blade, he severs the head of the mud creature. It’s all over so fast that when the magic explodes from the bodies of the felled gods it flattens me completely.

  I let out a startled gasp and strain against the wild power running rampant within the enclosed stage, the blue flames still cutting us off from the rest of the amphitheatre.

  Thorn has staggered and dropped to one knee before the horned god and I see the creature bend down to try to grab him. Finding strength from somewhere, I push upright and run at the creature. I’m peripherally aware of the sorcerers harnessing the wild magic surrounding us in a way I’ve never seen before.

  They are working in concert, performing a complicated ritual which resembles nothing so much as a particularly difficult dance. The magic levels in the air dip only slightly, but it’s all I need to reach the horned god before he can grab for Thorn, who looks as if he’s been wiped out by the wild magic coursing from the bodies of the fallen gods and goddess.

  Because the god’s angled away from me, I’m presented with his side, which is not the best target. I analyse the amount of damage I can do, even as I launch myself towards him. I ram my sword into the side of his neck with all my strength, and just keep thrusting the weapon upwards until it’s up to its hilt behind the creature’s jaw. It’s a difficult move and I pray it will pay off. He sways towards me but I leave my sword in his neck and drop away. He claws at the blade as I reach down and help Thorn upright. He’s heavier than I remember and feels burning hot to the touch – I pull my hand away when he’s standing as his skin has actually singed my hand. I notice how his eyes seem far too shiny, and the pupils seem enlarged.

  ‘Run,’ he rasps. ‘Kit. You must run.’ But as he speaks his skin ripples and there’s a definite scale pattern visible. He’s shaking as if he’s coming apart and I don’t know what to do.

  Aiden’s now by my side, and he’s found a sword from somewhere. ‘Guys, less swooning and more killing. Aelfric’s having a fit and Dante’s in a bad way. We have to get him untied.’

  ‘He’s going dragon,’ is all I manage to say to Aiden before Thorn twists in front of us.

  The movement looks terrifyingly alien, as his bones stretch and muscles change right b
efore our eyes. Aiden catches him as he topples, and lies Thorn down on the floor. Thorn lets out a wild moan and his body arches as violent spasms shake him. When the moans transition into a full-on scream, I clap both hands over my ears as the sound reverberates right through me.

  Behind us, Aelfric shouts a challenge and the horned god turns towards him; his hand finally getting a grip around the hilt of my sword that he’s been pawing at in a dazed way. He starts pulling it out and the sound it makes as it frees is a horrible sucking noise.

  Aelfric, the complete idiot, seems to think he’s invincible, as he brandishes his own massive sword in his hand.

  His sorcerers are now arrayed behind him in a semicircle. And as the creature lumbers towards Aelfric, they move to close the circle behind the god, leaving him facing the High King of Alba. Aelfric’s attack is instantly fatal. There is no opening parry, no finesse.

  He just delivers one straight thrust of that very large blade below the creature’s ribs, aiming upwards into the chest cavity. The horned god bats Aelfric away with one huge hand and the high king of all of Alba staggers a few paces, wiping at the blood on his face. The blow does nothing to keep the look of triumph from his face.

  The creature falls to his knees, still holding onto my blade. His other hand reaches for the sword thrust into his heart and as he withdraws the blade, an arc of thick red heart’s blood gushes forth and the sorcerers move reflexively away from it.

  I crouch low beside Thorn and try to get him to focus on my face. ‘Thorn, you need to get up. You need to control this shift. We need you.’ My voice catches and I glance wildly over my shoulder towards the Fae king, who looks manic now, almost berserk, partially covered in blood and gore from his killing spree. ‘I need you.’

  Aelfric’s gaze flickers to his son and he snarls. ‘He’s never been much use and now, when he’s needed the most, he can’t even get up and fight. It’s better if I just end him now.’

  ‘You have no idea who he even is!’ I yell. ‘Or what he’s capable of. You never cared. How dare you talk about him like this?’ I jump up and shove him with all my might and I don’t know if it’s because I’ve dared to lay hands on his royal personage, or if I actually have some strength left in me, but he takes a step back, registering surprise. ‘We are all going to die if you continue with the ritual,’ I gasp out and my voice is a raw sob of fear. ‘Don’t you understand? You’re making a mistake.’

  ‘Why do you think it’s gone wrong?’ Aelfric motions to the dying horned god behind him. ‘That last god’s death means I get exactly what I want, Blackhart.’

  I glance over my shoulder and I’m not surprised to see Aiden trying to help free Dante. Lady Firesky is doubled over and looks to be trying to hold her lacerated stomach in place with trembling hands.

  ‘I don’t care about what you want, you evil egomaniac. Your kind should never be allowed to rule.’ I stalk closer and flick my wrist so that the baton extends into my palm. ‘You have used your son for your own gain. You’ve had your own nephew kidnapped, so he may become a vessel for the gods’ power. And you think this is normal? Do you think that you’ve won, now you’ve ruined yet another person’s life by forcing a prophecy upon them?’ I draw a ragged breath. ‘You are contemptible. Nothing you’ve done has been for the good of Alba or the Otherwhere. Do you think everyone around you is stupid? That no one has noticed and decided to stop you? If that’s the case, you are even more deluded than I’d thought.’

  ‘You dare question me?’ Aelfric’s voice rattles with anger. He’s gone pale as he paces around the slowly dying god. ‘You? A human girl who runs after my son like a lapdog? You think you can judge me? You are nothing, girl, in the great scheme of things. Your existence is a mere blip on the scale of the life I’ve led. Once I’ve killed you, your family will be hunted for as long as I am alive. Not a single Blackhart will live to meddle in the affairs of the Fae. I am sick of their interference. I am sick of pandering to laws created in a time when people thought it wise to curb the Fae. Things will be changing, and I will lead that change.’

  I want to tell him his reasoning is crazy. But as I move, the horned god reaches out a large hand, tipped with curved stained talons. He closes his hand around Aelfric’s ankle and yanks hard. Aelfric lets out a yelp of shock as his leg gives way and he tumbles to the ground.

  Forgetting my horror at the king’s delusions, I run towards the god, who’s now partially slumped over Aelfric. He is still gripping my sword in one hand and has nearly pulled Aelfric’s weapon from his body. His blood, where it hits the stage, sizzles violently and the smell of the iron-rich liquid hangs heavy in the air. I leap towards them both in a desperate attempt to stop what’s coming next. I’m not fast enough, and skid over the mix of blood and viscera on the floor as the ancient god leans over Aelfric. With the weight of his sagging body behind the thrust, he drives the length of the blade right through Aelfric’s neck.

  I gasp and flinch when the god sees me stumbling towards them. He fixes me with one awful eye, which blinks before closing completely. The god’s massive form sags forwards, covering Aelfric entirely. I can’t slow my momentum and I crash to my knees, skid-sliding towards them both, crashing into their lifeless bodies. My hands scrabble frantically and I try to push the horned god off Aelfric but he’s too heavy. I get my hands between them somehow and find Aelfric’s neck. There is no pulse, no sign of life at all. I sit upright and lift my head to the dark expanse of the sky visible above and let out a shocked sob.

  There’s a moment of complete silence when those assembled on stage realize that Aelfric is dead.

  He’s succeeded in killing all the Elder Gods and, perhaps most importantly, the goddess is now dead at the hands of her brothers. The Veil is surely gone.

  I cover my face with bloody hands and cry. It was all for nothing. Everything we tried to stop is happening. I look up to find Aiden desperately shoving aside one of the Sidhe warriors in an attempt to get to Dante – but they hold him fast. I try to stand in a vain effort to help him but my knees aren’t moving the way they should.

  A wild wind whips through the cavern and a blast of uncontained magic hits me full-force. I struggle upright, my feet finding purchase under me, and I stare around, trying to find the source of the magic. My gaze lands on the prone figure of the goddess. As I watch, I see something lift from her and it looks like her ethereal form but it’s richly colourful and I’m reminded of what the leylines looked like when I travelled with Thorn. A wave of magic pulses from her form and lifts me at least three feet into the air before slamming me back down.

  I give a startled scream and drop backwards, landing badly and hitting my head hard.

  Lady Firesky’s voice penetrates the throbbing in my skull and I force my eyes open. She’s standing in front of Dante, who looks as if he’s busy dying – pale and quivering from pain and fatigue. She has both her hands on her bloody and torn dress and I recognize those marks as produced by Aiden’s claws.

  The sorcerers have all moved to surround Lady Firesky, and she’s become the focus of the magical energy they’ve gathered up from the fallen gods. As I watch, too dazed and nauseous to move, I sense the sorcerers gathering up the magic from the goddess too. Their gestures are no longer light or easy; instead they move as if under great pressure.

  The entire amphitheatre now pulses with magic. I focus on Lady Firesky and, even using my normal sight, I can see her starting to shine with a dark pulsating light.

  A soft sound and a far gentler brush of magic startles me and I’m relieved to see Thorn rising slowly to his feet from where I’d left him in the throes of an almost-shift.

  He looks tense and his breathing is a little fast, but he seems in control of himself now. I must breathe out his name or make some kind of noise to attract his attention because when he glances at me, his eyes are a kaleidoscope of jewelled colours.

  As if sensing my decision to try to get up and help Dante and Aiden, he gives me the slightest shake of his hea
d and starts forward.

  Thorn strides up to the Lady Firesky unchallenged and puts himself between her and Dante. This is just as she raises both hands to become the conduit of the gods’ power, ready to feed it into the tightly bound boy. No one stops Thorn when he puts his hands on her shoulders and the lady’s eyes open wide in shock but he doesn’t let her move an inch.

  His hands flame bright orange and within moments she’s a writhing mass of flames in his arms. The coils of magic that the sorcerers had been channelling tear from her body in a kind of frenzied desperation.

  This all happens so fast, it’s as if time has speeded up. And I can only stare as Thorn drops the charred body of his tutor. He squares his shoulders as if bracing himself for an attack and as I watch in shock as he widens his stance and inhales.

  ‘Oh my God, no,’ Aiden whispers in horror and I don’t even know when he got to my side. ‘He can’t do this.’

  But he is. The power floods into Thorn, suffusing him, lighting him up from the inside. He’s drawing all the energy from the Elder Gods into himself and it goes on for what seems an eternity – the light bright and violently active as it courses through him.

  Aelfric’s sorcerers start to panic as Thorn makes a move towards the closest one of their circle. He reaches out and at a touch the Fae crumples at his feet, unconscious. I jerk with fright because this I do not expect. As the thought crosses my mind, it seems to also dawn on the sorcerers that Thorn’s not only drawing down the power of the Elder Gods, but he’s draining the sorcerers of their power too. This, then, is Thorn’s kami heritage on full display: the ability to drain Fae of their power and cut them off from the songlines. As the fifth sorcerer collapses, I pull Aiden towards Dante.

  ‘Let’s get him free,’ I whisper. ‘I have no idea what’s going to happen next.’