by Kristie Cook
“I guess we’ll find out.” I rushed forward in the hopes of getting a surprise jump on him, launching myself up, using his hip as a boost as I swung to the side. My sword clanged against the metal on his back, but it was enough to make him have to step forward to regain his balance. He used the momentum to propel around and slice me on my back right side.
I groaned and stumbled forward, pressing against the wound. A fiery heat seared across the cut, filling me with a sickening pain. It wasn’t deep, at least I didn’t think it was, but it was pouring crimson blood down my side, staining my clothes. I turned to keep him in my line of vision as I regained my composure. Concentrating on the wound, I quickly sent a line of fire magic to the wound, using the heat to weave the wound back together as it cauterized the tiny capillaries leaking blood all over my shirt and down my back. I yelled out from the excruciating pain from the healing and almost passed out. I didn’t usually heal my wounds that way—it was more unbearable than the wound itself—but at the moment, I didn’t have a choice.
I hated doing such a hasty job, but the moment it was done, I was already rolling on the ground to escape Seritus, who was barreling toward me.
I almost tripped dodging the barrier of Unseelie, their hollers and screams filling my head while they waved their arms around and cheered their champion on. It was somewhat disorientating, but I dug my heels into the dirt and mulch of the forest floor, grasping the earth magic I could feel pulsing through the forest. Earth magic was Shade’s domain, but I had grasped some knowledge on how to wrangle it from the grimoires.
It was enough to anchor me and brought my target back into focus. I dove to avoid Seritus’s sword and felt a whoosh of air pass, sending my locks flying up behind me before I rolled across the clearing. I managed to jump to my feet again and found Seritus carefully watching me.
I was already exhausted, feeling the painful throb of the newly closed wound. It was no longer bleeding, but I had lost a lot of blood before I’d healed it. The weakness fired up my muscles, making the dull ache a constant reminder that I was losing. But I wasn’t through. Far from it. Even the impact of clanging swords with a faery ten times stronger than me couldn’t numb me enough to give up yet. So I kept on while feeling pathetic and so very mortal as I huffed for air while Seritus looked like he wasn’t even winded.
This wasn’t going my way at all.
Chapter Twenty-One Allies and Enemies
Allies and Enemies
“Your sister, she’s the queen of the Seelie, is she not?” Seritus swung again and my blade met his just in time. The twang vibrated in my hands, turning them numb and achy. I was breathing through my teeth to keep from hacking out my stomach’s contents. I would see this fight to the end, even if it meant certain death. I spat out blood-tinged saliva, and my lungs burned.
“Yeah. What of it?”
He actually snickered, but his face didn’t betray this. I could have sworn he was doing it for my benefit. What was he getting at?
“You can change his mind,” he offered. We circled each other again, probably only because he was fishing for something out of me.
“How would I do that?” If he thought I was falling for his stupid suggestions, he had another thing coming. Thwack! I slammed my sword against his, near the hilt. He barely noticed.
“He’s a foolish man with foolish aspirations.” Seritus dared to talk down on Oran? What the …?
Another hit, but this one took me by surprise after hearing what he was insinuating. The wide length of his blade whacked me just hard enough it felt like one of my bones cracked. Scrambling backward, I bounced on my feet, shaking off the biting pain.
He was trying to confuse me, catch me off guard. I had to be better than this.
“Oh yeah? Like what?” It was my turn to swing, and I managed to get him on the side with my blade. It caught fire to the small amount of tunic sticking out from under his armor where the scales were tied together, but he didn’t miss a step and put out the flames with one swift brush of his hand.
“I’m talking about offering a way to unite the courts.” Seritus frowned at me, looking suddenly like a tired old man.
Twang! My hand turned numb, and my left arm was barely recovering from the last hit. I zigzagged across the clearing, jumping from foot to foot. This made me feel foolish, but it kept me away from his blade because it allowed me to move away more quickly. It also, however, tired me out even more.
This had to end soon, or I’d get myself killed from the exhaustion.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I huffed.
“Think about it.”
Smack! He bunted me with the end of his sword when I attempted to swipe at his legs, but not as hard as he could have. Stars danced across my vision followed by a black tunneling effect that threatened to swallow me up. I shook my head and felt my feet give out as I stumbled to the ground. I hit with a muted thud, and the smell of moldy mulch mixed with damp earth filled my nostrils. I tried to get up and move, but my limbs wouldn’t cooperate. Moments passed before I could catch my bearings and shift my hands under me to lift up my torso. The world was oddly silent, and my vision was blurred.
Before I could get to my feet and search for my sword, I felt a hand wrap around my hair, knotting its fingers in my locks and yanking with ferocity. My scalp screamed in pain while I reached up to grab the hands twisted in my hair.
“Let me go!” I managed to call out as I struggled. I was sure it was Seritus who had me, but my vision was just clearing up, along with my hearing. The sudden jolt of noise and light was even harder to focus on with the cheering and screaming. I was getting my ass beaten and the Unseelie scum loved it.
In the periphery, I spotted the flash of metal from Seritus’s sword, held out to his side. Shit … was he going to decapitate me? No matter how hard I struggled to get out of his grasp, I failed miserably and hung there like a rag doll in his hands.
“You fool,” he whispered near my ear so only I could hear him. “You have two sisters. Offer one of them up to Oran, it doesn’t matter which one. He’s no idiot. He’ll want an alliance with the Seelie court. We’re all tired of this war. He wants to return to Faerie as much as any of these degenerates. Tell Oran this before I have to kill you.” His logic hit me at once, and I stopped my struggling. Seritus dropped me to the ground, letting go of my hair. I jerked my head up and scanned the crowd to find Oran watching my useless squirming with a mixture of disappointment and amusement.
What a freak. Time to end his party.
“Okay, okay!” I hollered, throwing my hands up as Seritus raised his sword, and the legions of warriors chanted “Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”
“I call for a truce!” I hissed. To his credit, Seritus lowered his weapon and waited. Finally, I managed to scream out at the self-proclaimed Unseelie king, “Oran … please … hear me out. I call for a truce. A truce between our courts.”
Seritus’s sword slammed into the ground beside me, sinking into the soft earth. I continued to gasp because my side was burning again. My muscles ached, and my head was especially killing me.
Oran got to his feet, and the arena of warriors became silent in one swift wave of his hand. At least he had his group well trained. They eagerly waited to see my demise, and most looked somewhat disappointed and angry. I struggled to get off my knees and up onto my feet. Paki ran out to catch me as I fell to the ground again. No one ran after to restrain him, which I hoped signaled that something would finally go our way.
The look he gave me as he hooked his arm underneath mine to help me up was one of pity and sorrow. My head was spinning, and I was sure I had a concussion. Blood seeped from a cut on my lip and on my right eyebrow, and there was most likely a missing chunk of scalp where my hair had been ripped out. Yep, I’m sure I was looking as far from man of the year as one could get.
With Paki to steady me, I was able to peer up toward Oran who was now standing with a spiteful glare aimed our way.
“What
sort of truce are you offering?” His face twitched while his jaw ground down into his teeth, making it look like he might not have any left when he was done.
“Uh, well … you see,” I stuttered. Shit. Now I had to offer up one of my sisters. How was that going to work out when Shade was already married? There was Anna, but she was barely of age to marry. She was still too young, and I’d never turn her over to the likes of him.
“He told me he wants to offer a truce of the Faerie courts,” Seritus started without me, and I turned to glare at him with the nastiest death look I could manage without wincing in pain.
“Really? What sort of union do you propose, Benton?” Oran’s mouth upturned into a surly grin.
“I didn’t propose anything. I … he …” I pointed at Seritus. “He said to offer you up one of my sisters to unite the two courts, but neither of my sisters would ever marry you. Shade’s already married, and Anna would never accept you.”
Oran cocked his head as he watched me. I was sure I’d said something of interest, but I was ready to grab my sword off the ground and thrust it into the Unseelie leader’s chest.
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, elemental. There are rules for truces here, unlike in your honorless society.” Oran started walking toward me and came to a stop a few feet ahead of us. I flicked my eyes to my sword, which was lying about three feet away to my left. Seritus’s sword stuck out of the ground but two feet to my right. It left me calculating which would be the better choice to pounce on if I needed to.
“It’s an old Faerie law that when the land is in jeopardy, alliances must be forged between the two faery courts. When this happens, it’s very possible to break any current bonds between fey lovers that bind royalty to facilitate a truce to keep Faerie safe.” Oran’s smile sent a cold, silvery thread of chills down my spine.
What?
Was that true? Oran couldn’t be trusted. I needed to confirm this with someone neutral or someone from the Seelie Realm. If it was true, what could it mean for Shade? This would seriously suck for her if it was true. He’d force Shade to marry him and break her heart.
“You’re lying.” I spat the remnants of blood from my mouth onto the ground.
Oran’s laugh echoed throughout the expanse of trees, bouncing off into the distance. No one was laughing with him. I could only feel for them since they were obviously afraid of him. Or not.
“Ah. To a mortal like yourself, these rules don’t apply. But Shade is not just mortal, is she? She’s bound by the rules of the Land of Faerie.”
Well ain’t that a downer?
“What do you want me to do?” My body shook, exhaustion, dehydration and blood loss, not to mention my woozy head, were all catching up to me. “I can ask Shade, but I’m sure she’ll turn you down. What then?”
Oran narrowed his eyes, looking thoughtful. After a moment, his eyes brightened, a new plan forming visibly on his face. It only caused me dread, and I didn’t want to hear or be part of any of it. “You’re in luck. You won’t be dying today. You’re our pass into Faerie so we can speak with her.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at this ridiculous proposition. If he thought either of my sisters would marry him to unite the courts, he was going to be severely disappointed. All I could do was shake my head.
Regardless, Oran folded his arms across his chest, looking calm and composed. “We’ll return you to her. If you’re our prisoner, we can return you to the queen in good faith, which allows me passage through the Seelie Court of Faerie. Then she will have to break her bonds to her husband and marry me.”
Man, this wasn’t looking good. I felt my face pale as I took a few steps toward my Empyrean blade. When he turned away to walk back to his makeshift throne, I bolted toward my sword, sliding across the damp ground feeling twigs, rocks and other tiny things tear up my knees. Just as my fingers clasped around the hilt of my blade, it came to life with an explosive rush of fire. But before I could get back to my feet, I felt another smack against the back of my head that sent the blade flying from my grasp. My body sprawled onto the ground, my face slamming into the rocky mulch. I barely registered anything as a looming shadow approached and peered distastefully down at me.
My eyes were still open, stunned as I tried to turn and see who had hit me. I got nothing but a brief glance of Seritus reaching toward me before my mind gave up and the black curtains fell, plunging me into darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Two Road of Dust and Blood
Road of Dust and Blood
February 17th 1703
As luck would have it, I’ve met a talented silversmith from afar, from a land I’ve never heard of. He has agreed to make a most powerful weapon to complement my family’s fire element, one I alone can wield. I was startled to discover that he even knew of our abilities, but being from a land of magic, I do not underestimate his talent for such observations.
He called the weapon an Empyrean blade, and as far as I know, he is the only one who can make such a sword.
~Brendan
The feeling of movement under me jolted me awake. It felt like I’d been thrown into the bed of a carriage or wagon, but I wasn’t sure. I tried to blink away the light, but the brightness of the day made me squeeze them shut again right away. My entire body felt like it’d been hit by a train, tossed to the side and rolled down a hill. Mentally taking stock of my injuries, I wondered just how broken I was and how it was possible I was still alive.
Or maybe this was hell. In heaven, things wouldn’t hurt like that, right? I’d be euphoric, maybe flapping some strong, gorgeous wings. Instead I was tied at the wrists and being carried in the back of a wagon that was knocking me about so much I wanted to heave. This business of feeling like utter crap was getting old in a hurry.
It smelled like a dirty horse and coppery, like the blood caked on my face. I blinked until my eyes focused on the world around me, finding a sobering view. I was tied to one of the supports of the wagon by a cord connected to the rope binding my wrists. Sitting up with my head pressed against the wooden siding of the wagon, I breathed slowly, hoping the dizziness would fade. I wasn’t surprised that it didn’t help.
The wagon had a covering that kept the sun from shining right into my eyes and seemed to be used to store food and water barrels. It was half full, but I didn’t yet notice that I wasn’t alone, for I was afraid to sit up. It would definitely make me hurl, and I couldn’t even hold my head with my hands tied up the way they were. When one particular nasty wave of nausea hit me, I managed to crawl to the end of the wagon, haul my body partially over the back end until the rope that held me went taut, and threw up.
I probably needed a doctor. The dizziness wouldn’t subside, so I hung there, peering off the back end of the wagon, catching the nasty glares of Unseelie soldiers on foot and on horseback as they avoided the puddle of puke I’d left for them to dodge. I focused on the sounds emanating from around me and caught half glimpses of the surrounding brittle woods, and a long, rocky dirt road. After a while I half dozed under the late afternoon sun blaring down on us, enjoying the heat and warmth of it on my cold soul.
Dozens of horse hoofs clicked around me, and the smell of sweat and soot mixed along with manure and body odor made me want to stuff hay up my nose. I heard voices chattering calmly around me, as if taking a Sunday afternoon ride through the country was commonplace for treacherous Unseelie Sluagh warriors. There was dirt everywhere, on everything, even on the spindly trees that rose up around us. The land was mostly flat, but occasionally we dipped or ascended small hills. The jolting ride made my head ache like nobody’s business.
It began to look far too familiar as the forest thickened, and the land began to smell more sweet and vibrant. It was downright beginning to freshen up despite the company of the filthy riders surrounding me.
I slowly moved my arms up under my head. They felt numb from dangling for hours, and the pain from my injuries made me wince and want to groan aloud, but I swallowed it back.
&n
bsp; “Benton?” A familiar voice came from outside the wagon, so I turned my head as slowly as it would allow me. It was a relief to find Paki riding beside the wagon. He was also tied up, but anchored to the horse. He looked exhausted but in good health. At least one of us was well enough to know what was going on.
“Paki.” I threw him a weak smile. “What’s going on? How long have I been out of it?” My throat felt like it was coated in sawdust, and my lips cracked when they moved. I wanted to sit up, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I shifted as best I could and listened for his answer.
“It’s been almost two days, sir.” He motioned to the burnt orange sky. “It’s almost nightfall again. The time for the dark creatures to ascend upon us.” Paki pulled at the reins of his horse to keep it even with the wagon. “Here, you need to drink.” He tossed me a canteen he’d had hung around his neck. Mighty nice of the Unseelie to hydrate their prisoners. They hadn’t seemed concerned that I might die in the wagon.
“Thanks, man.”
I grasped the screw top, slowly unseating it, and dumped some water on my tongue. I coughed and sputtered on it at first, but eventually got the hang of swallowing again. I finally managed to sit up even more and peered around.
We were in a caravan of some sort with Unseelie soldiers behind and in front of us as far as the eye could see. I groaned as I spotted the approaching Scren Palace, a few miles ahead. I’d missed most of the trip but could feel every mile embedded into every crevice of my body.
“So what’s going on now?”
“We’re prisoners of Oran. They’re escorting us back because it allows him passage to the Scren Palace through Faerie without repercussions. He’s going to propose to the queen to unite the courts.”
I shook my head. “Shade will never break her vows to Dylan. He’s barking up the wrong tree.”