by LJ Rivers
Puck nodded, but again he said nothing. Still, his body was trembling slightly, and his grip on Charlie seemed a little feeble. Was he the weak link here?
“I saw you once, Puck,” I said, finally finding my voice.
The boy glanced up at me. He was definitely scared.
“In a … vision.” I decided to leave the Phoenix out of it. Too much to explain. “I saw the day Bellion came to take you. How he killed your family and your entire village. I even saw that stick figure you carry. I’m betting one of your parents must have made it for you, I’m sure they must have. You don’t have to serve Bellion anymore. We can help you.”
Puck shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Just let go of the girl, Puck. You don’t have to do as Bellion says.”
Bellion slapped Puck over the head, and I inhaled sharply, holding my breath. The knife Puck was holding pressed harder against Charlie’s abdomen, the tip lancing through her shirt.
I held my palms up in defeat. “I’ll take her place. Please. Just let her go.”
“No,” Charlie screamed.
“Silence, Don Hekal.” Bellion yanked at her hair again. She groaned, but the knife moved away as Puck lost his grip on her. “If the princess wants to trade, I am inclined to take her up on the offer.”
“I won’t allow it,” Morgana said under her breath.
“You don’t get a say in this. Besides, my father doesn’t want me dead. He couldn’t care less about Charlie, and Avalon needs their queen. If he wants to trade, I’m the better choice.”
She faced me, her eyes downcast. “I hate to say this, Ruby, but is your life really worth risking for the sake of a Don Hekal?”
I glared at her. “This is Charlie we’re talking about. I thought you liked Charlie.”
“I do.” She stroked my cheek. “But I love you.”
Bellion tapped his spear on the ground, his patience clearly growing thin. “Are we trading or not, ladies?”
“We are,” I said. “Let her go, and I’ll take her place.”
“And don’t even try to be smart. One cut of my blade, and you won’t be smart no more.” His thin lips curled into a cruel grimace.
“I understand.”
Charlie shook her head, her hair still in Bellion’s grip. Puck, however, had lowered his knife, standing like a statue by his master’s side.
I stepped forward until I stood halfway between Morgana and Bellion. “You’ll need to release her.”
“I will. Once you get over here.”
“How do I know you’ll let her go once you have us both?”
He let go of Charlie’s hair, his fingers splayed in the air above her head. “Only one way to find out. But I am a man of my word.” He snickered. “Isn’t that the truth, Puck?”
The boy bobbed his head in a mechanical motion.
“See?” Bellion laughed maniacally.
I took a deep breath and resumed walking. Of all the stupid things I had ever done, this had to be in the top three. I couldn’t risk Charlie’s life, but I also couldn’t hand myself to Bellion, and in turn my father, like this. Calling on my power, I summoned it to me, as if charging myself up with every stride. Locking eyes with Bellion’s red pits, I swung my arm out and grabbed Charlie’s wrist with my telekinesis. Bellion reached for her, but he was too slow. She catapulted through the air, passing above my head before I set her down beside Morgana.
“You can’t have either of us,” I sneered.
“Then you will all die.” He puffed himself up, his bare chest jutting out, one hoof scratching the ground. Raising his spear arm, he charged.
I ducked as the spear cut the air above my head and spun in a crouch, ready for the next attack. Bellion, however, continued forward, slicing the air in front of Morgana. She unsheathed her sword just in time to meet his next blow. The weapons clanged together as they continued to attack each other. I scrambled to my feet when Bellion drove his spear into Morgana’s shoulder. She dropped her weapon and staggered backwards, the spear still embedded in her skin with Bellion’s firm grip on the hilt. Slowly, he twisted the spear further in.
“No!” A force field wouldn’t do against his weapon. I reached out with my telekinesis yet again, grabbing at the spear. It shook in his grasp, but he didn’t let go. I tugged harder, channelling all my strength to fight this monster, then sent a ball of fire at his hand. The one holding the spear.
Bellion roared when I managed to free the spear from his grasp. I pulled it out of Morgana’s shoulder and tossed it to the rubble outside the former entrance to the mine. The Satyr turned, smoke drifting from his nostrils, leaving Morgana on her knees. Charlie wrapped her arms around the queen and placed a hand over the wound. Morgana was conscious, but panting hard. I had to get to her soon.
I backed up when Bellion lunged for me. He pounced, only to crash into the force field I had conjured around myself. His nostrils flared as he pounded his fists on it, frothing at the mouth. Shuddering, I looked into his crimson gaze. This monster had caused so much pain and suffering in his life. Looking at him now, all I saw was a sick animal who needed to be put down. His face twisted suddenly in a sickening grimace, and blood oozed down his forehead. I glanced up. The curved edge of the Nadredd spear was embedded in his skull. The Satyr slumped forward, sliding down the edges of my force field, leaving a streak of blood on the orb. He slumped to the ground and lay still.
I retracted the force field and gasped. At the hilt of the spear stood Wadyan, rubbing his hands together.
“I have wanted to do that ever since he murdered my mother.” He spat on Bellion’s body. “The last Satyr in Gwyn Fanon is finally defeated, and can never harm anyone again.”
I briefly considered telling him that there was another Satyr in town, but decided to let him savour the moment. I could tell him later. At least this slavemaster was dead. “Well done,” I said, looking over at Morgana. She lay in Charlie’s arms, her breaths coming in quick gasps.
“Ru! She needs you,” Charlie called.
I gave Wadyan a quick pat on the back, then ran over to them, kneeling by Morgana’s side. My knees protested as they met the ground, but I didn’t care. Not now. Instead, I placed my hands over Morgana’s injured shoulder.
“You can let go, Charlie.”
She took her hand away, and blood gushed down Morgana’s arm.
“Hurry, Ru!” Charlie sobbed.
Once again, I called on my healing power. This time it surged to life in an instant, beams of gold and scarlet showering Morgana in a warm light. Slowly, but steadily, her skin regrew, and the wound disappeared. The only evidence that she was ever injured was the pool of blood on the ground and the red rivers on her arm.
“Thank you, Ruby.” Morgana brushed her knuckles against my cheek. Her voice was still weak, but she had to be tired. Come to think of it, so was I.
Charlie stood, brushing herself off, then wiped her tears. “Time to get off this mountain?”
The distant squawks from a flock of griffins sounded, and we all turned our heads toward it.
“Not ours,” Morgana said, getting to her feet. “We have to move.”
“Wadyan?” I turned to find him guiding Puck towards us.
“What of this one?” The cropkeeper’s son shook the boy gently by the arm.
The poor Goblin boy dipped his head, his back arched submissively.
“You want to come with us, Puck?” I put a hand under his chin and lifted it so I could look at him. Aside from his tattered clothes and tortured face, his eyes were vibrant, like two emeralds peering back at me.
“We don’t have time,” Morgana said.
“We can’t leave him.” While he had held a knife to Charlie’s abdomen, it wasn’t his doing. He was only a kid. “I’ll ask you again. Do you want to come with us? I promise we’ll treat you with kindness.”
He bobbed his head slowly, and I took that as an affirmative.
“He’s coming.” I linked Puck’s arm with mine, and t
he five of us dashed for the gates that were a pile of ash at this point, and continued into the shadows.
We had just reached the downward path when the air whooshed around us, and a patrol of griffins swooped overhead. They continued towards the mines as we kept running down the path.
Morgana staggered on her feet, running with unsteady steps.
“Help Puck, please,” I said to Wadyan.
“Of course.”
The two Goblins supported one another while I went to Morgana’s side.
“Need a hand?”
She looked at me with bloodshot eyes, and my breath hitched. What was wrong with her?
“I think I spent too much energy up there,” she said with a gasp. “A hand would be good.”
Folding my arm around her waist, we carried on down the path. We had spent a lot of energy, and the adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, but I was holding my own. Morgana, on the other hand, was struggling. This was more than her being tired. I glanced at her pale face as a sense of foreboding settled in my gut. Her mouth was drawn into a thin line, and her eyelids kept drifting shut. Something wasn’t right.
“We have to hurry,” I said to the others.
Charlie, who led the way, turned back for a moment. Her mouth fell open when she looked at the queen, then at me. “We’re nearly at the pickup point. Can she hold on?”
“Yes.” It sounded more convincing than it felt. Could she hold on? Hesitating, I slowed the pace. “Maybe I should try healing her again?”
“Can you walk and heal?” Charlie asked. “It won’t be long before our enemy figures out where we went.”
“I’ll try.” Like I had with the Fae in the tunnel, I held my palm to Morgana’s back and let my healing energy flow into her, though my magical battery was wearing thin. My shoulders slumped, as Morgana didn’t seem to improve at all. I prayed to the Lady it would be enough.
Chapter Eighteen
We alighted in Gwyn Tala Glade where Naheena and her pack were already waiting for us, along with a few Junipers. Hondo had come back for us once we returned to the pickup point, and he had sped through the sky like a rocket, as if sensing the urgency of the situation as much as I did.
I slid off the griffin’s back. “The queen,” I called. “She’s injured. Get her to Prime Diwella.” I had sent every last ounce of my magic into her on the flight, and I had nothing left to give. Diwella was one of the strongest Fae I had met, and she hadn’t gone to the mines with us, so her energy levels should be fine. If anyone could help, it had to be her.
Two Junipers lifted Morgana from the griffin and began carrying her away from the glade and into the woods.
“What happened?” Naheena asked, concern written in her voice. “Most of your company has returned, along with a few of the slaves, but I expected the rest of you to come with them.”
“I think some of the slaves just kept running. We have sent a few directly to Awarnach. Others probably shifted and have started their journey on their own. We thought we had got everyone out when we had to turn back. But there was a dungeon. Then Bellion had Charlie, and—”
“Hush, child.” Naheena grabbed my shoulders. “You’re rambling. I can get the full story later. For now, your queen needs you.”
Sniffling, I nodded. “There are a couple of Goblins with us. One of them was Bellion’s private slave, the other aided us in the mission. Would you please make sure they’re attended to?”
“Do not worry. They’ll be in the best care.”
“Thank you, Naheena.”
Charlie took my hand, and the two of us hurried into the forest to check on our queen.
Once back in the Gwyntali village, I came to a halt. Bewildered, I looked around the area. A swarm of the slaves we had rescued dotted the area, though far from as many as had been in the mines. The Gwyntali Shifters scurried back and forth with food, clothes, and blankets, some tending to wounds or talking quietly with the slaves. But I didn’t see Morgana anywhere.
“Over there.” Charlie tugged at my sleeve.
Two Junipers, their hands clasped on the hilt of their swords, stood guard outside one of the huts. “That has to be it!”
We rushed over, the Junipers inclining their heads solemnly as Charlie and I breezed past them.
The bitter stench of herbs and iron slapped me in the face as we entered the small space. My throat narrowed, making it hard to breathe. On a makeshift bed of branches layered with moss, standing in the middle of the room, lay Morgana, her face contorted in a painful grimace. Shimmering healing light encased her while Diwella moved her hands up and down her body.
The Fae prime glanced at me for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. To the side, Sanctor and Pullhelli sat watching, both of them white as a sheet. Tears welled in Sanctor’s eyes, and a flicker of flame rose between Pullhelli’s hands.
“How is she?” Charlie asked the question that wouldn’t escape my lips.
“Not well. She’s not responding to my healing.” Diwella drew in a shuddering breath. “But I’ll keep trying.”
I staggered to the bed, kneeling by it. The previous ache in my knees had numbed, replaced by the anguish in my heart.
Morgana’s eyelids fluttered open, and she looked up at me. It was like staring into an endless well, an omen of the abyss that lay before us all.
“My dearest Ruby,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “Do not be afraid.”
“I—” I sucked my lips in between my teeth, gathering the courage to speak. “I can’t lose you, you hear me? You will pull through this.”
“Even if I do not, I will die happy.”
“Don’t say that. You’re not going to—”
“All life must be renewed at some point. I am lucky to have lived an eventful life, as though I have been gifted with several lifetimes instead of the one I’ve had. Do not fear, my child. There is so much power in you, and I do not mean only of the magical kind. I urge you to harness that when the time comes. Even if my body fails me, you must draw strength from this. Find the courage to hold your head high and fulfil your destiny.”
I had half a mind to tell her there was no such thing as destiny, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak against her. How did she expect me to rise from this with courage and strength when I was already about to break?
“We’ll fix you,” I said. “Don’t you dare give up!”
“I shall try, Ruby. For you.”
“It should have worked,” Diwella mumbled to herself, shaking her head. “But it’s as if something is blocking my magic.”
I knew what she meant. I had felt it too, only I had convinced myself I was simply out of juice.
“Blocking?” Charlie ambled closer. “How so?”
“I’m not sure. It feels like my magic is pouring into her, only to stagger against some kind of shield. It feels almost as if there is a force field surrounding her heart, deflecting my power.”
Pullhelli stood on shaky legs, edging towards the bed. He put one hand on Morgana’s shoulder opposite me, supporting himself on his cane with the other. “How did this happen?”
I shook my head, unable to convey the words.
“Bellion stabbed her with a spear,” Charlie said through sobs. “He’s dead now.”
“Long overdue, if you ask me,” Sanctor interjected.
Pullhelli ignored him. “A spear, you say, Lady Carolina? I saw no wound.”
“Ruby healed her, but it seems she only healed the skin.”
The old Sorcerer canted his head, squinting his eyes. “A spear of what kind?”
My eyes widened in understanding. “A Nadredd spear.”
“I see.” He stroked a hand over Morgana’s forehead, brushing away a few strands of hair. “It would explain why you couldn’t heal her entirely when still in proximity of the weapon, although the Nadredd’s venomous spark would not hold for long, and certainly not in someone as powerful as our queen.” He pointed the head of his cane at Morgana’s shoulder, and I nodded. �
��We may need to open her up again.”
“What? Why?” I nearly shouted the words, horrified at the mere thought. “She’s already bled too much.”
“I fear part of the spearhead is still inside her. It might only be a small shard, but that would explain it. If we can find it and extract it in time, Diwella should be able to heal her.”
The healing light dimmed when Diwella retracted her arms, pulling the magic back within. “I will need to save my energy, then.”
Charlie crouched beside me and leaned over the queen. “You must forgive me, Pullhelli, but how exactly are you going to do that? If you open her up again, she’ll start bleeding. We have no medical equipment for a surgery and nothing to keep her from dying before we can even find the shard. Plus, Diwella said it felt like the problem was at the queen’s heart.”
I shot her an angry glare, but faltered when she looked back at me with tear-streaked cheeks and puffy eyes. She hadn’t meant to be cruel, only to state the obvious. It didn’t make the truth of it sting any less, though.
“If the shard is at her heart,” Pullhelli sighed, “then I fear you are right, Lady Carolina. There might be no possible way of extracting it.”
“Wait,” I said. “What is the shard made of? I know it’s from a Nadredd’s sting, but there are weird creatures in this world. Is there any chance it’s metal?” A part of me had recalled the metal wielder by the mines. If the spearhead was made from metal, then perhaps someone like him could find it.
Pullhelli shook his head, crushing my Hail Mary. “I’m afraid it’s bone, my dear.”
“There’s a chance the shard is still close to her shoulder, though. She’ll die if we do nothing, right?”
He nodded.
“Then we have to try.”
Sanctor wobbled over, digging into a satchel he was carrying. “The spores of the Glaswelt rose might help, if only to delay the bleeding. Diwella, will you please make the incision in her arm?”
Pullhelli turned to Morgana with a rolled-up piece of leather in his hand, waving it in front of her face. “Bite down on this, Your Highness.”