“It is to defend ourselves against people like you who want to wipe out humanity,” I say.
Mordred suddenly reaches out and lays his hand over the top of my chest.
“Where do you think you’re touching?” I ask, wanting to pull away.
I feel heat radiate from his hand, burning me. Then there’s a flash and I hear the distinct buzz of tiny wings furiously beating the air. Before I can ask what he’s done, two tiny pixies dart in front of my eyes, as bright as tiny will-o’-the-wisps.
I reach up and my fingers brush against Arthur’s pendant, feeling the hollowed out space where the gems were moments before. My eyes grow wide.
“Even you with your Fey blood couldn’t resist the attraction of gaining more power,” Mordred says bitingly.
“They…they were a present,” I whisper.
“That school was a place of corruption,” Mordred says coldly. “A place that was a thousand times worse than anything Hell could reserve for our kind.”
“Only because you abused your powers first!” I exclaim, any idea I may have entertained to change his mind gone. “And why do you keep talking about Lake High in the past tense? It is a good place, with a worthy goal, and though I may not like everyone in it, there are still plenty who are willing to risk their lives to do what’s right and protect the innocent.”
Mordred leans towards me and I make a concerted effort not to flinch back. “Those people are delusional,” he growls, “they will lose their lives for it, and your school will no longer be!”
Urim chooses that moment to approach us and whispers excitedly in Mordred’s ear. Mordred’s shoulders tense, then he springs to his feet. Without having to call her over, Nessie’s at his side, and in one lithe movement, Mordred’s on the kelpie’s wide back, a large horn at his lips. He blows once. Twice. Three times.
Three times my bones rattle inside me, my blood boiling, as if answering to his call.
To my utmost horror, I see more and more Fey crowd inside the clearing—hundreds, then thousands of them—their spikes, pelts and scales reflecting the crescent moon’s muted light.
“My brothers and sisters,” Mordred intones once the clearing is full to bursting with Dark Sidhe, his voice carrying clearly over the multitude, “you have waited long enough for this moment. Finished are the days when you had to cower from the sight of knights. Done are the times when you’ve had to keep away from the world—our world—for fear of retribution. For tonight is the night we claim what is rightfully ours and unleash our just retribution!”
A loud clamor greets his words, raising every hair on my body. What is Lake High and the Board to do against all these Fey?
And all I can think of as the army of Dark Sidhe lets out grunts and howls of challenge, is that perhaps Mordred is right and we are all doomed.
“You’re staying here.” Mordred forces me away from him with the butt of his lance, given to him by Badass.
“But I thought I was your hostage,” I say, as Nibs tightens his hold on my chain. “Are you setting me free?”
“You’re not a very good listener, are you?” Nibs says. “Don’t you remember what he said your role was in all this?”
My mouth runs dry. “Bait,” I say. “Right.”
“It wasn’t my original intent,” Mordred says, leaning down on his kelpie to cup my cheek before sliding his hand down to the pendant hidden under Arthur’s jacket. “But somehow those bastards have managed to bypass our compound and track you straight back here. Which leaves me no choice.”
I wrench myself out of Mordred’s reach and turn my back on him. All these Fey intent upon murder and destruction, and here I am, unable to lift a finger.
But things might be different once he and the others are gone. I eye Nibs calculatingly—the little clurichaun’s weakened by the loss of his ogham, surely he’ll be easy to overpower.
“Gwyllion,” Mordred calls out, “gather a couple of squads and get ready for battle.”
The leather and piercing aficionado appears before us, her evil pet leering at me from around her with its fiery eyes.
“Carman wants us all to be together for her arrival,” the punk hag says.
“She also wants our invasion to be successful,” Mordred retorts. “Which means keeping Lugh and his posse out of our feet.”
“Lugh?” Gwyllion repeats, fingering her bladed whip thoughtfully.
“And you won’t even have to look for him,” Mordred says. “He’s on his way over.”
The hag’s tongue darts out over her leathery skin to play with the piercings at the corners of her mouth. “Very well,” she says, as if this wasn’t an order. “I’ll play babysitter for a while.”
“Excellent,” Mordred says, wheeling Nessie around.
“You can’t be serious!” I exclaim. “All she wants is to skin me alive!” And she’ll make it impossible for me to escape, I silently add.
“As long as you’re not dead,” Mordred says indifferently.
I scowl up at him. “And to think that for a second there I thought you might be OK,” I say. “Guess that’ll teach me.”
Mordred’s nostrils flare, and for a second I think he’s going to strike me. Instead, he urges Nessie into a trot and waves his long lance high over his head. Then, with a mighty bound that would be impossible for any normal horse to make, Mordred and his kelpie disappear back into the forest. The ground shakes as the rest of the army follows behind him, in no seeming order, thirsting for blood and battle.
I watch the last of the Dark Sidhe disappear into the dark forest, leaving what once was a verdant clearing now a trampled over field of mud. Suddenly, the hag’s bladed whip snaps around my ankle and pulls me down hard.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Gwyllion asks me.
“I was just pacing,” I retort, biting back a scream as my skin is cut open again. “Am I not allowed to do that?”
“No.”
Barguest sneezes loudly next to her and a blob of yellow snot the size of a fist shoots out of its snout, before getting caught on his protruding canines to hang there like a tennis ball on a string.
“Not even if I have to go to the bathroom?” I ask, running out of ideas.
The longer it takes for me to run away, the shorter my friends’ chances of survival.
“I thought you’d peed yourself enough already,” Gwyllion smirks.
“Fine,” I huff, wishing I could still cross my arms.
I scan my surroundings, growing more desperate as the seconds tick by. Twenty Fey and an annoyingly gross pet. Could I take all of them? Probably not, I admit to myself. Though one never knows unless one tries, right?
I stomp on the ground, feeling my power tingle through my still injured legs, and launch straight up into the night sky.
Nibs lets out a surprised squeak as he’s lifted into the air after me.
I feel the painful bite of the whip as it slaps around my ankles again, ripping the soles of my feet up. But this time, I’m prepared for it, and I point my shackled hands down, letting the flow of energy blast through them at the hag.
Water comes roaring out of my palms in a long, powerful jet, and hits Gwyllion straight in the chest. Shock crosses her lined face and she loses her grip on the weapon. I use that moment to increase my speed and feel the metallic lashes tear free from around my legs.
“Get back down, you stupid wench!” Nibs yells at me, dangling from the chain.
“I’d rather suggest you let go,” I retort, pausing a hundred feet in the air to get my bearings.
“You have no idea what you’re doing!” Nibs says. “Gwyllion’s got no sense of humor. She’ll make you pay dearly for this insubordination! And trust me, you don’t want to get on her bad side. Ever.”
“She’ll have to catch me first,” I retort.
I climb further into the cloudless sky until a glimmer on the horizon catches my attention. I squint at the flickering orange dot and my heart skips a beat as I realize it can only be comi
ng from the watch fires around Lake High.
I glance back down to see Gwyllion throwing a hissy fit at me, Barguest running in circles around her. She shouts at the other Dark Sidhe to go after me and a slow smile creeps onto my face as I realize that none of them know how to fly.
“So long, suckers!” I yell down, before shooting across the sky towards the distant fires.
Nibs lets out a long, terrified scream. “Put me down!” he shouts. “P-please! I’ve got a t-terrible fear of heights!”
“You should’ve let go when I gave you the chance,” I say.
“We were already hundreds of feet above ground!” Nibs retorts, outraged.
“Well you’re going to have to wait till I land,” I say, struggling to keep a steady altitude without being able to use my arms for balance.
We take another sudden dip before I can stabilize my flight course again.
“I think I’m going to get sick,” Nibs says, hanging limply from the chain.
“Sorry, no barf bag,” I say, accelerating further.
If no one else can fly, then I’ve still got a chance to warn the school of Mordred’s invasion.
Suddenly, a furious twittering erupts before my face and I have to veer left to avoid the two pixies from splattering on my face like fat bugs on a windshield.
But no sooner do I pass them that the pixies dart back in front of me, pulling on my hair.
“Leave me alone!” I yell, coming to a sudden stop over Avalon’s endless forest. “I’m not going back there, and I have no time to play with you!”
“What are you doing?” Nibs yells at me, his wide swinging making him heavier to carry. “You want me to die of a heart attack?”
“I’m just trying to get these things off me,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Well don’t look to me for help,” Nibs says weakly. “I can’t stand pixies to begin with.”
Then he strains up on the chain, making me drop another foot in the air.
“Stop pulling so hard,” I yell at Nibs, looking down at the clurichaun’s panicked face. I frown, sensing something’s wrong. “What’s the matter now?”
“Get us out of here. NOW!” he yells.
The two pixies’ fluttering redoubles until they become blurry trails of light around my head, making me dizzy.
And then I feel it, like a hole in the fabric of the world, growing bigger and bigger.
My gasp turns into a choke as something cold wraps around my throat and squeezes. I just have the time to see the outline of a skeletal face inside a dark cowl before I’m propelled backward through the sky.
“Get…off…me…,” I croak.
But Dub only accelerates, squeezing harder. My vision grows blurry from lack of oxygen and I barely get the chance to register the sound of excited cheers before I’m rammed into solid ground.
My head snaps back with a thunderous crack, my dimming vision bursting with stars at the impact. Or are those lights coming from Arthur’s pixies?
I pass out for a second, and when I come to, Dub’s holding me up by the neck again. I swing feebly at the end of his vicelike grip, feeling the ground just within reach of my feet but still too far for me to get a firm hold.
I clasp my manacled hands about the Shade’s wrist in a fruitless attempt to unclench his fingers from around my trachea.
“Un…hand…me…mons…ter…” I wheeze out.
“You should probably do as she says,” Nibs squeaks out, though he remains far out of the Shade’s reach.
“Mordred did say it was fine as long as she’s not dead,” Gwyllion says calmly. I hear her sharp intake of breath as a glacial cold spreads from Dub’s hand down my spine. “Carman wants her alive, Dub!” Gwyllion snaps, though she too keeps her distance.
Seems nobody wants to play with the prince of darkness. Nobody but me. And I’m obviously losing. Yet a small part of me knows that this is the perfect opportunity to exact my revenge upon the foul creature who murdered my father.
Despite my woozy head, I manage to summon the little energy I have left and channel it through my hands. Flames explode through them, momentarily blinding me before they get sucked up into Dub’s shadows like light into a black hole. Again and again, I blast him with my powers but nothing seems to affect him.
Out of desperation, I pull on the chain, now free of Nibs, and whip it up. The iron slaps into the cowl and Dub’s head jolts to the side, his strong fingers finally letting go. I drop to the ground, coughing in air, then painfully push myself back up.
Black smoke rises from Dub where I hit him, spreading to the rest of his body. I hold the chain before me like Gwyllion would her whip, ignoring the dark veins that are reaching down my arms, halfway to meeting my blackened hands.
“Your time has come to an end,” I say, my voice raspy.
The tendrils of poisonous fumes that always float around Dub whirl about chaotically, and it takes a while for me to realize that he’s laughing.
Then the shadows about Dub explode outward, enveloping me in total darkness. I blink, but Nibs, Gwyllion and all the other Fey are gone. Something brushes against my back and I whip around, my hands tense around the iron links of my chain.
“Why don’t you fight me like a man?” I ask.
Again I get the strange sensation that Dub’s laughing, mocking me.
Then a long arm folds around my midsection, trapping my one and only weapon against me, while Dub’s other hand winds itself in my hair then jerks my head back.
A flash bursts behind my eyelids as I gasp with pain. If only I had a knife on me I could use. The thought fleets through my head before my vision turns red.
I’m back inside the tent. The red light that always casts such an eerie pall over the metallic furniture and strange instruments around me is now blinking angrily. The flap opens up to let in three people, all still dressed in hazmat suits. One of them holds back as the other two rush toward me, pointing strange metallic sticks in my direction.
“The wave frequency is off the charts!” one of them exclaims.
“And it keeps increasing!” the other man shouts. “It’s gone ultra—”
“X!” the first man says, looking at the strange computer displays.
“Contain it before it hits another frequency,” the woman near the entrance says.
The first man crosses over to the shelves on top of which are long, shimmery grey boxes that reflect the flashing red lights. He picks one up in his arms and hurries over, struggling with the weight of it.
“It’s just gone gamma!” the other man shouts.
“If you don’t hurry it’ll burst!” the woman snaps, making the man drop the box in fright.
The table shakes from the impact and the man lets out a long string of curses as he struggles to pick the box back up.
“Move it, you idiot!” the woman shouts.
She strides over to assist him while the other scientist still points his metal stick at me.
“Get out of the way,” the woman says, forcing the closest man to step to the side to let her and the other scientist draw closer to me, the metal box held between them.
I want to yell at them that they can’t imprison me like that, that I’ve got my rights, but I know it’s pointless. A sudden glow surges around me, and I see the two scientists hesitate, the box now just a foot away.
“What’s the matter?” the second man asks, his voice muffled by the hazmat suit.
“Just shut up and hurry to contain this thing,” the woman snaps.
Then the silver light around me blooms into a bright series of flashes.
And in those flashes, I finally see through the three scientists’ reflective face masks and into their terrified eyes, before they disappear into a blazing explosion.
A howl breaks out nearby, the barest of warnings before something heavy crashes into me. There’s a strange hiss then I feel the pressure around my throat release before I sink to the ground, numb and unable to move.
The smell of d
irt and dry grass penetrates my foggy mind—guess I must’ve landed on my face.
The howl erupts near me again, shrill and terrifying. And I know it’s the end for me, and I wasn’t able to do a thing to help after all.
“Morgan?”
I hear the sharp sound of swords being drawn among growls and shouts of warning.
Then Gareth’s distinct voice rings out excitedly, loud and clear, “They’re in front of us, they’re back, left, right, above—”
“That’s Lugh, idiot,” Gauvain says. “Way to give our positions out.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Gareth says, “we can attack in every direction!”
I finally manage to roll over onto my back as the clash of fighting erupts all around.
“Morgan?” Arthur asks again, sounding frantic.
“Present,” I moan, panting heavily from the effort.
What happened? I was back in that strange tent, and those scientists wanted to contain me…. Wait, no, I was trying to fight Dub. I must have passed out again and had another vision.
Dub! Where did that murderous swine go?
Arms lift me up into a sitting position, and I blink blearily at Lugh’s agitated features. My head reels back as a wave of nausea hits me.
“Stay with me now,” he says, snapping his fingers in front of my eyes to get me to focus on him.
“That treacherous, base, vile, poisonous bastard,” I mutter feebly.
“Well, I am glad to see you too,” Lugh says without batting an eye.
“What did she say?” Arthur shouts over his shoulder before parrying a blow from one of the two stout, half-bear, half-lizard Fey he’s facing.
The creatures hiss loudly, large, menacing thorns growing out of their arms and backs.
“I believe she was cursing,” Lugh replies over his shoulder. “A good sign, methinks.”
There’s a flash and a whistling sound as Gwyllion’s whip lashes at Lugh, cutting him across the back before wrapping itself around his neck, the metal bits digging into his flesh.
“I’ve been waiting long enough for this opportunity to rid the world of your existence,” Gwyllion says.
Rise of the Fey Page 38