by J. M. Briggs
“Alright,” Morgana agreed. “Be careful. Keep an eye out for Arthur. This can’t be a coincidence.”
“He’s probably hoping we’re tired,” Nicki said.
Probably, Bran thought. He was. There was a faint humming in his chest, but he’d still be able to help. Alex came rushing down the stairs, a weapon in each hand and a scowl on her face. She glanced at them, and Nicki gave her a small wave before following Merlin to the front door.
“You’re with me out back,” Morgana said. “No sign yet, but I have faith in your spell.”
Bran followed the pair of women out back. Morgana was almost vibrating with tension, and Alex kept glaring at everything that moved, even the blades of grass fluttering in the wind. Then Bran caught movement in the trees. Pulling on his magic, he let the warm sparks swirl around his fingertips and waited. There was a distant rumble of thunder. He almost laughed. Arthur was making a mistake attacking now. Alex and Nicki were both worked up. If the evil mage knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t be anywhere near here.
Something slammed into the wooden fence and Bran flinched. The wood cracked and fell to the ground, revealing dull violet eyes staring at them. A Fae stepped through the opening with several more behind them. They tugged at the next wooden boards, pulling the fence apart. Silver magic surrounded Morgana like an aura, and she stepped forward.
“Leave now or die,” she said. “Our spells tell us that you mean harm. I warn you that none of the mages in this house have much patience left.”
It was surprising that Morgana was even giving them a chance to run. None of them did. Morgana chuckled softly and snapped her fingers. Silver sparks shot forward, joining together and forming a wall of magical bolts. The first five Fae went down in moments. More came rushing out of the trees. Bran couldn’t count them all, but there was at least a dozen.
The Fae came forward. They didn’t care that the sun was still in the sky. Wearing sunglasses with their hoods pulled up, they rushed the house. Bran’s throat tightened as three swung firearms out of their bags. Morgana shouted something, and a dome of silver appeared in front of them.
Gunshots erupted, but they were soft and muted. Just enough that the neighbors would assume a television was on too loud. Bullets hit the dome, crumbling upon impact. Raising his hand, he pictured the weapons being pulled away from the Fae. A moment later, all three were struggling against swirls of yellow magic to hold onto their weapons. Morgana’s shield rippled for a split second before exploding towards the Fae as a shower of silver bolt. The Fae didn’t have a chance to run before the bolts ripped them all apart.
“Check on the others,” Morgana ordered.
Bran exhaled, his legs quivering. There was shouting. His legs were unsteady, but he forced himself to move around the side of the house in case it was more Fae. Instead, it was Merlin with the others, charging around the side and flanking the second wave of Fae. Stumbling forward, Bran looked around to check on his friends.
Blue magic filled the air just before a line of ice spike burst up from the grass and caught several Fae. A fireball exploded in the midst of another group, melting the ice which extinguished the fire before it could spread. More Fae were coming, and Bran’s mind spun with confusion. Why were they here? Why did they keep throwing themselves at mages for Arthur? More were coming. It wasn’t just Fae now. Red Caps were slinking in the shadows and a few other strange creatures were mixed in. At least the Brownies seemed to be staying peaceful and not joining the fight.
They were closing in — dozens of creatures pressing into the yard. Green magic formed spikes of earth that stabbed some alongside Nicki’s ice walls. Lines of fire flicked through the air, igniting and blocking off some. But more kept coming. He didn’t dare look at the others. He couldn’t handle their fear along with his own. A flash of light off of a weapon made Bran lash out with his magic. The gun was pulled from the Fae’s hands. There were more firearms scattered in the crowd. Using his magic, he snatched all of them that he saw and tossed them towards the back door.
Alex was spinning through the horde, swinging Cathanáil with her right hand and awkwardly flailing Mjǫllnir with her left. Fae were falling to the ground, either with broken bones from the hammer or long slices across their torsos from the sword. A pair of Fae grabbed Alex from behind, trying to wrestle Cathanáil out of her hand. Overhead the sky rumbled, and Bran looked up. Lightning flashed, and the Fae stopped for a moment out of surprise. It was all Alex needed. She lifted Mjǫllnir, and a bolt of lightning crashed down into the hammer.
Bright light filled the area. Bran slammed his eyes shut. When he opened them, the Fae around Alex were on the ground with wisps of smoke rising off their bodies. He shot off three magical bolts of his own, striking down a Fae, a Red Cap, and a strange feminine looking creature with goat’s legs. His chest was burning, but he kept pushing on his magic. The sparks came more slowly. One Fae got too close, and a green bolt shot it down before he could react.
His knees gave out. Falling to the ground, Bran grunted as his legs hit the grass. In his chest his magic tried to spark to life again, but could only sputter. It was all too much for one day. Not even for one day; for a single afternoon. Chasing Arthur down had left them exhausted. A shout from Alex made him look up. The magical glow around her weapons was fading. Thankfully they were still lethal enough to keep her safe as she whirled them around.
Someone stepped up next to him. Bran hissed and reached for his dagger, but it was Morgana. She didn’t look down at him but shifted protectively in front of him. Silver magic formed a shield in front of them just before another round of shots rang out. Bran flinched. So many weapons. Arthur was giving up on magic doing the trick. Bile filled his throat and mouth, leaving a harsh burn behind. Somehow though he managed not to throw up.
He forced himself to focus on the threat. Another fireball flew past what remained of the fence and collided with a Fae holding a gun. The firearm dropped to the ground. Another Fae tried to grab it only to be killed by a lightning bolt to the chest. Bran lifted his hand and pushed, pleading with his magic. Three guns on the ground were picked up in a pale swirl of yellow magic and dragged across the ground away from what little remained of the Fae forces.
A few Red Caps turned and fled into the shadows. Green bolts killed one last Fae that was trying to escape. The hole in the fence was half the length of the yard. Bran hoped that they wouldn’t bother fixing it. There wasn’t any point. It didn’t slow anything down. The yard was finally quiet, and there was no movement in the trees beyond the yard.
Panting, Bran straightened up and turned to check on the others. His eyes moved over their small rank. Morgana and Merlin were in the best shape, their faces calm. Without exchanging a word, they both marched forward and began to check the trees. Aiden and Nicki were leaning against each other. Alex was near the destroyed fence, still standing up, but looking shaky.
“That was childish of Arthur,” Alex grumbled.
She sheathed Cathanáil with a huff and headed for the house. Alex paused only long enough to look at the pile of firearms that they’d taken and curl her nose. Sighing, Bran followed her towards the back door. He had to agree. This was a childish retaliation, but hopefully, it would be enough for Arthur.
32
Dying Dreams
Alex was exhausted, and they now had a small armory of firearms that they had no idea what to do with hidden in their basement. Arthur had escaped with Scáthbás, and Merlin and Morgana were angry with her. This had been a wonderful day. Alex really wanted to throw something but settled for brushing her hair and glaring at her reflection.
“Now what?” she asked herself. “You missed your shot at Arthur and made him mad. How are you going to fix this?”
She didn’t have an answer. Settling for braiding her hair, Alex listened for any noise from the others. The house was quiet. That wasn’t a surprise. Even Merlin and Morgana had been pretty tired by the time they’d finally left the house. It had been a while
to convince them that they didn’t need to stand guard. Glancing at the clock, Alex grimaced. It was late, almost early, and as exhausted as she was, there was a strange urgency at the back of her mind. An itch she couldn’t scratch.
Turning off the lights, Alex climbed into bed by the light of her cell phone and stared up at the ceiling. Her eyes slowly adjusted after the blue light from her phone vanished as the screen went dark. Sleep came gradually, giving Alex time to worry and wonder. There was a limited population of Sídhe creatures in the Iron Realm, and not all of them were going to help Arthur. Alex couldn’t see the strategy here.
Either Arthur had already had the Red Caps in Ravenslake waiting for a signal or he’d sent them here with a water tunnel while he was injured from their fight. Neither option made much sense to Alex. Was he really just hoping for the guns to take out a few of them? They were a bit more durable than regular humans thanks to their magic, but bullets were serious business.
Slowly, her head began to feel heavy. She was drifting off, but in her chest her magic began to churn. Alex lost time. Opening her eyes, she didn’t find her room and instead was standing in a familiar gray fog. Sighing, she resigned herself to another night of vivid dreams of long gone faces. But no one stepped forward — no one called any names out of the darkness. Instead, the gray fog began to shift and close in.
Looking around, Alex watched the colors shift and darken. She was dreaming. In her chest, her magic was fluttering and expanding, making it hard to breathe. Taking a step forward, she held out her hands. They passed through the fog. It curled around her fingers. Alex shivered. Magic tingled up her arms, tickling her and pulling the breath from her lungs. Then the world around her finished solidifying, and Alex was able to look at it all properly.
It was the dead Sídhe world. Swallowing, Alex pulled her feet out of the ash, but they sank right back in. A few feet away the remains of a building were half buried. There was a statue so worn down now that the facial features were almost completely gone. Overhead, the dark violet sky churned. There was nothing around her, and the smell of ash filled her nose. Closing her eyes, Alex pinched her arm, urging herself to wake up. She didn’t.
“Hello.”
The sound of a living voice made Alex spin around. She almost tripped as her feet failed to move as quickly as her torso. Then her eyes found the person who had spoken, and Alex tensed. Scáthbás wore the form of a beautiful human woman that hid her alien nature. Elaine Pendred was fairly tall with long blonde hair styled into an elegant, complicated looking bun. Arthur had her sharp blue eyes and long lashes. Despite having an adult son, there were few wrinkles on her face. Like Merlin and Morgana she was a hybrid, and nothing about her appearance betrayed her real history. Dressed in a dark pinstriped pants suit, she looked to Alex more like a lawyer or politician about to deliver damning closing arguments. With her human appearance, she didn’t belong here anymore than Alex did.
“Hello, Alexandra,” Scáthbás said. Her voice was calm, almost wistful. She almost smiled and took a few steps towards Alex.
“Stay where you are!” Alex snapped.
“I’m not here to hurt you.” Scáthbás held up her hands, raising an eyebrow in annoyance. Alex shivered. It reminded her a lot of Morgana. The thought made her stomach tighten. “I’m dying.”
The words took a moment to sink in. Tilting her head, Alex considered the figure and blinked. Scáthbás’ impatience filled her face, and a rough growl escaped her. “I’m dying, you idiot girl! I’m lying in a puddle of my blood! No one is there to help me!” Her voice quivered.
Alex stared at her. She heard the words but didn’t understand them. They didn’t seem possible. Scáthbás’ expression faltered, and she looked away from Alex to examine the landscape around them.
“Then why are you here?”
“I don’t know,” Scáthbás replied. Her eyes flicked back to Alex. “Perhaps your precious Iron Realm wants us to speak once. Or maybe because you’ve been trying to reach out to me and this is a lingering connection in your magic,” Scáthbás smiled, a nasty and bitter smile. “Oh yes, I noticed you. Felt you poking and prodding, but you weren’t the priority.” Then Scáthbás chuckled, examining her fingernails. “We’ve never met, but I do feel like I know you, Alexandra. Arthur told me about you in great detail.”
Holding back a shudder, Alex glared and fought to keep her face neutral. Scáthbás sighed and shook her head. “Enough of that. I doubt there’s time for it. Arthur has killed me.”
“Arthur?”
“Yes… the monster I raised finally turned to bite me.” Scáthbás shrugged. “I saw it coming, of course. I’m not a fool. I just thought I had more time before he did.”
Scáthbás looked around them at the ash covered landscape. Her eyes narrowed and she swallowed. Then she calmly walked over to the nearby statue that was half buried. With almost tender movements, she brushed away the ash from the face and studied it. Alex stayed where she was, ignoring the sting of the wind on her cheeks.
“Don’t you ever wonder why we conquered those worlds?” There was a challenge in Scáthbás’ voice. The tall blonde woman raised a delicate eyebrow and her dark painted red lips twisted into a slight frown. Meeting her eyes, Alex just stared at Scáthbás and waited for whatever was coming next. “You don’t, do you?”
Scáthbás laughed darkly and shook her head. Pulling her shawl around her, Scáthbás looked away from Alex and stared out into the twisting fog. “Mages. I respect your power and your dedication to your realm, but honestly, you need to consider motivations more.”
“Are you going to tell me or just hint dramatically?” Alex asked.
“Sídhean is dead.” The words rang with a finality that echoed in the thick fog. Holding her tongue, Alex studied Scáthbás’ face, but it was calm and resigned. It was a fact, but not a painful one. Seeing her confusion, Scáthbás explained, “It has been for centuries, long before I was born. The world was dying, so my ancestors began to move into another one, but they met with resistance. Desperation spurred refugees into forming an army and conquering the world. Many were left behind on a dying planet as it became harder and harder to cross over. The new world was declared New Sídhean, but death was there too. My ancestors kept marching deeper into our branch of the Tree of Reality to outrun the decay.”
Strange images filled Alex’s head. There was a withering branch made half of wood and half of stardust that was crumbling away. Thin and pale figures with long horns growing from their foreheads that branched out like antlers were moving across a dark, dusty landscape. There were small crying figures and a shimmer of golden magic on the horizon.
“I won’t claim that everything we’ve done has been kind, but our culture is built on fleeing. We took worlds and unified them into an orderly society of multiple peoples that can live and work together. What was once many worlds is now Sídhean, and we were keeping the decay at bay. I took over and improved the lives of the slaves, using recent rebellions as proof that we needed some change.” Scáthbás narrowed her eyes. “I treated Morgana as well as I knew how. I protected her from the more dangerous elements of the court and kept her healthy. The cunning that has served your realm so well she learned from me. And I am only trying to save my people. Three thousand years... the decay will be right on their heels.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that you’re some sort of good guy deep down?” Alex almost laughed at the ridiculous notion. Nonetheless, there was ice in her gut, and her magic was fluttering weakly. “You’re saying those words from a stolen mouth. Elaine Pendred was a real person. You took over her life and destroyed it.”
“I had to survive,” Scáthbás replied. Her voice was too calm and even. She was just watching Alex. “I don’t expect you to trust me Alexandra Adams, the Iron Soul of the Iron Realm. You’ve spent lifetimes either fighting or living in a tense peace with outsiders.” Scáthbás looked past Alex at the strange churning landscape as the fog tried to solidify into something. “Bu
t it is complicated.”
Alex debated with herself for a moment. But then the world flickered around them, and Scáthbás released a small sound of pain. Her fingers gripped the statue tightly as she swayed. Alex’s mouth went dry. She didn’t know what to feel. There was a spark of pity, but it was extinguished quickly by the reminder of what this woman was and the things she’d done. Still, not all of this was a lie.
“I’m aware that something is happening outside the Iron Realm,” Alex said. She hoped she sounded calm and controlled. “The mages and I have discussed it. The Demons reported that they were fleeing a Darkness of some kind.”
“Yes,” Scáthbás said. She gestured around with her hand. “Yes; this is what comes. Life can’t survive. Not sapient beings, or even the plants. It all dies, withers on the vine” Scáthbás studied Alex, her eyes glistening. Desperation, Alex thought. “I hadn’t been queen long when I found Morgana,” Scáthbás said. “Not long to my people, but to yours I suppose it was a long time. We live longer than you… maybe that was part of the problem.” Scáthbás’ eyes shifted to look out at the dead landscape once more. “Morgana… my dear girl. Strange, I’m a little proud of her now. I was angry with her for so long. But my son, my Arthur betrayed me for power: at least Morgana’s betrayal was far nobler.”