Sreng began his advance up the light tunnel. Lugh watched as Lycaon, the Freeman, Shala, and the mage from Atala followed. Only Princess Neith remained. Sreng bellowed back to Prince Bres, “Bres, your men march without you.” Bres stood for a half second and looked around and then mindlessly followed the others. Lugh looked in disbelief, a Prince of Fo marched forward under the commands of that barbarian.
“Bres? You can’t be serious?” called Lugh.
“Don’t bother half-blood,” he is with me now said Sreng.
Lugh noticed a curious thing as Sreng taunted him, “Don’t bother joining us half-blood, it is clear your fascination with the Fae princess has dulled your wits.” The barbarians eye reflected a vapid emptiness. Lugh gritted his teeth in anger at the situation. “And don’t worry you can keep little Neith there, she isn’t much good except for spreading those soft legs.”
Bres looked back in shame at Lugh’s gaze before disappearing into the tunnel behind Sreng. Lugh was left standing with the group he had not thought he would. Had Bres led them into the light, Lugh may have followed, but that brute could not be tolerated as a leader, he would lead them to their death. Lugh looked at Neith.
“You sure you don’t want to proceed with the men?” asked Lugh.
“And have to suffer the stench of that troll and is machismo? I think not,” said Neith “I'll take my chances in the dark with the more noble company.” she flashed him grin as she walked past him pursuing the Seraeph into the dark. Lugh followed, and not a moment too soon, the hounds were upon them. As Lugh walked into the darkness of the tunnel, he saw the red eyes of the hounds of Arawn vanish.
The path through the dark was as Lugh had suspected, similar to what they had endured before. They continued downward for what seemed like an hour before the came upon the slumped figure of Onyx lying below a shaft above with light that descended illuminating his body. Samsara was standing over him but her eyes were fixed on the shaft above. Neith ran forward and checked the Dweorg for signs of life. The rest of the Fae stood in defensive positions around the body. Lugh approached Samsara and peered into the shaft with her.
“Did you see anything?” asked Lugh.
“He was here when I got here,” she said before continuing on into the dark.
“Wait! We need to stick together,” Lugh called into the dark. again,
The Seraeph is all that matters. Said the pestering voice.
Lugh was starting to worry if the long dark of the journey was breaking his sanity. He looked at Skadi and Chiron. “We should keep moving.” he asserted.
They proceeded, but their march was short lived. As Skadi moved past the shaft, the corridor broke out in a raucous roar, Lugh whirled and watched as Skadi looked up the shaft.
“Ahhhooo!” shouted the familiar voice of Sreng. Lugh watched in horror as the champions of men fell from the tunnels like the demonic kobold had. Sreng drove his blade deep into the shoulder of Skadi while the others hacked at her knees. Her bellow shook the corridor, the torch hit the ground, and the light dampened.
Lugh pulled his sword and started forward before the voice of Skadi cried out. "Run!"
The light from the torch was fading, Lugh watched as the other Fae did as the giantess commanded them to do. Sreng had positioned himself around her neck attempting to strangle her. She was already injured and if Lugh didn't do something quick, she would die down here, not by the hands of the demons in the deep, but by the hands of men. He ran forward. Skadi flung her limbs and roared. She kicked the champion of the Freemen, his body whipped through the air and past Lugh into the wall of the corridor. In the dead of Lugh's sprint, he could hear the bones shatter and splinter as the man hit the stone, the force had been so great that Lugh was certain he’d died from the impact of her foot. The sounds that followed were superficial. She roared and fell to one knee as the other champions had cut halfway through her other leg. Her fist gripped the skull of Lycaon, but before she could damage him the sword of Prince Bres removed her hand. She cried again, a horrid scream that filled Lugh's ears with a deafening sadness he knew he would never forget. In this one moment, Lugh knew what monsters men could become. The man who shared his blood had turned against him and the others.
He stopped dead in his tracks, there was little more he could do, his heart broke as he watched the slaughter. Skadi raged and used her other arm to crash against the wall of the corridor in pain as they hacked and hacked at her taking her apart a piece at a time. The stone tunnel shook with the force of her angered blows, rocks clattered and crashed as they fell from the shaft. Light from the fire of the torch ceased to burn and Lugh saw the rocks fall upon the giantess crushing her, whilst the men fled. The slide triggered a massive break in the structure of the tunnel, and Lugh in his heartbreak resigned himself to the fact it was his time as well. He looked up and watched as the rocks fell with tears in his eyes. He closed them and embraced his death.
Before he felt the cold icy breath of death, he felt the warm and firm hand of Chiron, who galloped in and tossed him upon his back before fleeing the sliding rocks with awesome power and speed. Lugh opened his eyes and looked behind him as the cavern collapsed. With it, he watched as his final hopes in mankind fled from his heart.
In that moment he became invested in the fate of the Fae. Men had proven their worth. Bres had proven his, and Lugh promised himself that he would take Bres’s head.
They caught up with the others. Lugh dismounted Chiron and caught his breath. Their faces displayed defeat.
“Is she?” asked the gnome.
Lugh nodded.
The Aélf cursed, “May the Lady of Avalon curse them all.”
“They shed our blood willingly?” asked Chiron. “Why would they put all at risk just to be rid of her? They stand a better chance of living if she lives. It makes little sense.”
“They aim to make sure none of us survive. If only men survive, a man will be given the power of the Oath. They’d sway the chamber in favor of men for a thousand years. It’s obvious.” said Mananan Mac Lir. “They have no honor. They never have.”
Lugh hung his head in shame.
“You knew of this?” said the Aélf who approached him. “You knew, and you said nothing to us.”
Lugh said nothing. The Aélf spit at his feet and walked away. “You’re no better than they are you might as well have driven your own sword in her.”
“Lugh rushed headlong against them,” raged Chiron. “You fled. How dare you challenge bravery with such disregard?”
The Fae erupted in argument. Neith stood near Lugh, her bow at the ready.
They may have the numbers, but they were divided. Lugh knew the men were unified, and they were not done hunting. Things were about to break.
“No one feels the weight of this loss more than me,” said Lugh to the Aélf.
He turned to face Lugh, “What would you know about choosing sides half-blood. You've made it your business not to declare one way of the other. You’ve done it your whole life. Yes we all know about you. As long as that blood still runs in your veins, you're as much to blame as they are for her death. May the Goddess curse you and all of your kind.” he spat again. “I go into the dark with the Fae, or alone, that is my choice, I won't be part of a party that stands and watches one of ours die like that.” He walked into the darkness alone.
“Did you know?” asked Chiron.
Lugh nodded. Chiron huffed and turned his back.
Samsara, the gnome, and Mananan Mac Lir followed. Lugh watched as the numbers equaled out. He could not convince the Aélf to stay in the larger group, not without risking the Aélf attacking him and Neith. The Fae turned and walked ahead of them. Lugh tood there for a moment wondering how many of them would survive.
“Listen Lugh, there was nothing you could do. We both knew what they were going to do. The giantess would never walk out of here alive. She was the largest threat. They aim to put Prince Bres forward as their primary hope in the trials. Deep down you understood th
is. You always did. The divide is too large to bridge, even for your broad shoulders.”
“Fools, all of them. Did they not see how strong we can be together?” said Lugh.
“Where you see strength, they see their own weakness.” she replied. “This has ever been the bane of weak men.”
Lugh sighed. The Fae moved into the darkness. “We should follow. They aren’t finished yet. They will come back, this time I will be there to stop them. I’ll take all their heads.”
He perceived the voice again.
The black wing!
Lugh shook his head and turned to Neith, "Do you hear that?"
“No,” she paused and perked her ears. “I hear nothing.”
He shook his head again.
SERAEPH. The voice called louder.
“Gah,” he cried. “Get out of my head!”
Then the pair heard the war cry of Chiron ahead, and the clamoring of metal. Lugh and Neith leaped into a dead sprint forward. The darkness gave way to light, in a stark contrast. Lugh ran into the fray. On one side were the men illuminated in light, and the Fae on the other shrouded in shadow, their swords crossed. The Aélf had engaged Sreng, Chiron against Bres. Mananan Mac Lir pressed his advantage against the mage of Atala while Samsara wore down Lycaon. The gnome was entirely outmatched against the Blessed Daughter of Sumer, he dove out of the way of her blade. Neith rushed to the aid of the gnome. She fired an arrow that bounced off of the thick steel of her cuirass. Neith drew her sword and drawing the ire of the Blessed Daughter.
The battle between man and the Fae begun.
Lugh felt his mind flee from foul and terrible visions of darkness. There beneath the Earth, the dorcha had already begun, the darkening came forth in the souls of the sacrificed, and the world descended into chaos. He had only a split second to react, the battle would be over soon, and his decision would tip the balance of the scales. He could only engage one combatant, and then he heard it again. He looked for Bres, he wanted to tear off his head. Lugh stood still, his blade clean of blood. He stammered wondering who to attack and then he saw his opening. Bres stumbled from the blow he’d received from Chiron. It was not or never, Lugh could take him and then Sreng and end the rebellion of the men.
Seraeph! The voice held such power, Lugh believed his mind might break or his skull shatter.
“Damn it all to hel,” he said.
Lugh leaped into action past the clamoring swords and into the fray. Samsara had advanced to to far and given up the high ground backing the Lycaon onto a ledge, his move to disarm her was swift and he hacked towards her. Though her reactions were swift, she could not last without a weapon. Lugh had mere seconds to save her. Samsara tripped and fell backward her head just missing the sharp rocks on the floor below, her eyes widened as Lycaon’s sword moved towards her head prepared to cleave it in two. Just before the blade met her head, Lugh's sword intervened.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Samsara, the rogue Seræphym
In darkened fears,
Demons feast upon the tears,
Of the heart riddled with spears..
Samsara’s eyes were closed, she had embraced the blow that came towards her. As she heard the clash of steel in front of her face, she opened them. Above her stood the blond-haired Lugh. Her ears rang from the crushing blow her head had received against the ground. She noticed Lugh yelling at her, her hearing returned gradually.
“Get up, grab your steel,” he said before advancing against Lycaon. Samsara got to her feet as soon as she could but her head ached and her vision was still blurry. The blow had knocked her equilibrium out of balance. She grabbed the hilt of her steel and stumbled forward shaking off the hit and towards Lycaon. Lugh looked back and cried, “Help the gnome!”
Sam whirled and looked behind her, the gnome had been engaged by the Blessed Daughter of Sumer, but now Neith had engaged her. It was a better match, the gnome cowered in the corner. He shouldn’t have even been here, he was completely out of place. She raced over towards his position and shuffled him into a shadowy corner. “Stay here,” she told him. “Don’t come out, not for any reason.”
He acknowledges her demand and shrunk into the crevice in the rock. Sam turned to engage the brute Sreng locked in combat with the Aélf, but as her blade sought the blood of the beast rider, it was blocked. Sam locked eyes with her opponent and pressed forward into Sreng.
“Get out of the way welp,” shouted Sreng. He pressed forward crashing Samsara into the hind quarters of Chiron. Sreng laughed before returning his focus to the Aélf who hissed and bared fangs before slicing the backside of Sreng’s calf.
The brute had pushed her so hard that her body had thrown off the balance of Chiron. Sam had crashed into his knees, knocking his hind legs out from under him. He parried the assault from Bres, but it wasn’t enough.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sam watched as the blade of Bres struck true against the Kentáros, removing Chiron’s arm and then his head in two elegant moves. Before the head of the magnificent creature hit the cavern floor Bres dropped his sword in an act of disbelief. Samsara watched as his eyes seemed to shake free of control. His expression changed, and he fell to his knees in terror over what he had just done. Sam put the pieces together. It wasn’t the men. There was something else affecting their minds. Something powerful had overtaken them. She watched as the dark energy fled the Prince and latched onto Sreng and the Blessed Daughter. Samsara raced over to Bres to see if he’d returned from madness.
“What happened? I swear I?” Bres muttered.
Samsara looked into his eyes as they filled with tears.
“I will be dishonored, I... I failed…” said Bres.
Somewhere deep within her father called to her. A lesson she had learned long ago from him when she had failed to master shooting crossbolts. She looked at him and raised his chin, “Not yet you haven’t there’s still time to prove yourself. Show us all what a Prince does. Show us who Bres is, a hero, or a follower who falls prey to foul magic.”
Her impassioned words turned his self-pity in resolve. She saw her words take effect as he gripped the hilt of his sword and advanced upon Sreng with righteous fury. Sam knew that Bres though deeply conflicted was not as wholly evil as Sreng. Something had gotten under his skin and forced his hand.
She turned her attention back to the fight. Each of the men who had taken the path of light grew stronger. Something within them drew from the power of this place and their muscles rippled, their eye glared with violent fury. Sam was frozen in the moment as she watched the foray.
She herself felt as conflicted as Bres, she didn’t know who to trust, what side to choose. Both of them had caused injury, and both were under the influence of a much greater power, a titanic war that had been raging on a grand scale for thousands of years. She watched it rage in their hearts, as brother drew blood from brother, sister from sister.
The Blessed daughter drew blood against Neith of Kemet, her perfect skin opened by the blade of the Sumerian Knight. She cried out. The champion of Atala cries rang out as Mananan Mac Lir drove his sword through the chest of the Atlantean. Lugh’s hands were wrapped around the throat of Lycaon, his life fading as air found no path to his lungs. Bres cut and the Aélf moved against Sreng. All around her was death, sadness, and hatred. Each one of them had been infected by it and forced into this conflict by an unseen force. None had chosen their fate in this contest. The world spun around her as she realized something about her own particular destiny. She no longer wanted to be chained by this infinite struggle between the light and the dark, between man and Fae. There had to be another way.
There is no other way.
The voice had antagonized her for three days now. It chipped and dug at her resolve. It whispered sweet promises to her.
What allegiance do you have to them? Take them out as they fight their war.
She fought it, but the harder she fought the stronger the feeling of seduction grew. She knew that if she just accepted
the thoughts, it would grant her the power to succeed. She assumed that was how the men had gained their strength. Their minds were weak.
Do this and become stronger than them all.
Samsara dropped to her knees and let out a tremendous cry. “Stop!”
The stone of Fal hanging around her neck lit up and hummed amplifying her cry. She fell to her knees. They straddled the division of light and dark on the ground. Her voice shook the corridor, eyes glowing with magical power.
Rise Samsara, take your place. You have come to exact revenge have you not?
Samsara fought the feelings of lust and greed. The darkness was taking her. She beat against the walls that closed in on her. As she did the stone emitted a powerful wave of energy that shot through the tunnel knocking every man and Fae back. Her wings unfurled and beat against the air which assaulted the other champions keeping them pressed against the walls of stone.
Yes, feel its power surge within you. None may match your power. Let it unfold. Take their lives and be done with this ridiculous contest. Accept the power of the stone.
The battle of spirit began. Each of them had battled the sadistic voice of bloodlust. Sam could not deny that she wanted them all dead. If they were removed from her path, she could exact vengeance upon those in the Sacred Grove who’d wounded her. She had but to accept the power and take the lives of the sacrificed.
Do what must be done. Finish them!
Samsara brandished her sword and walked towards the closest champion. The gnome’s eyes grew in fear of her. Sam felt the power of the stone coursing through her as she gripped his throat. She had but to squeeze and his life would leave him. She grinned.
“Samsara, no!” cried Lugh, his words crashed against the force of her wings.
Samsara grinned and lifted the gnome above her head.
In a flash of light the spirit of another Seræphym appeared.
“Samsara, you must fight this. This is not the way to bring justice.”
Nemeton: The Trial of Calas (Hallowed Veil Book 1) Page 43