Tarian missed a step as the germ of an idea came to her. Maybe, just maybe . . .
Squatting, she locked gazes with Drysi, while Anwar looked on and panted.
I have an urgent errand, Tarian sent. If you fail, it could cost Cassie dear. It could cost me dear too. Drysi pricked her ears and whined, and Tarian patted her neck. Now listen well. Here’s what you must do . . .
Chapter 4
“What’s taking her so long?” said Corryn. It was just after sunset. “Perhaps she doesn’t care what happens to you after all.”
He looked at the mortal sitting with her back to one of the stones, but she didn’t react to his barb. Evidently she’d learned that her anguish and pain amused him and was refusing to cooperate. Shame. It had been fun playing with her mind, exploring her terrors—the fear of heights, of spiders, of burning, of drowning, of being crippled . . .
How many fears these mortals have.
He tried to see what Tarian saw in such a snivelling, unattractive weakling. But perhaps the mortal felt more for Tarian than the Fae felt for her. It was interesting that her strongest reaction had been to his illusion of Tarian dying in her arms. She was a shaking, blubbering mess after that. Maybe he would try it again, to relieve the tedium.
Corryn raised his finger and pointed, but paused as a familiar presence registered. It was distant as yet, but coming closer. He let his hand drop and swung round, testing and confirming what he could feel.
“She’s coming.”
At last, a reaction. The mortal lifted her head and looked at him, eyes dull and full of misery.
So gleeful was he at the success of his plan, Corryn almost skipped to the circle’s perimeter. He hummed a few bars of a bawdy ditty once popular in Mab’s court, drummed his fingers on the hard surface of a stone, and stared out into the gathering darkness.
There. That tall figure striding up the footpath towards the circle, a wolfhound at her heels.
“I wondered if she might flee, but she hasn’t.” Corryn felt the need to explain. “After all, the last time we fought, she was as immortal as I am. But now . . .”
He threw back his head and laughed. “How does it feel to know that you’re going to be the one responsible for her death?”
The mortal said nothing but her eyes spoke volumes.
BY THE LIGHT of the slowly rising moon, Cassie watched Tarian climb towards the Nine Sisters, Anwar padding behind her. From the paint spattering her grey sweatshirt and jeans, Tarian had come straight from her studio.
Cassie’s heart was in her mouth. It had been the worst few hours of her life, but her relief that rescue was in sight warred with terror for Tarian’s safety. As Tarian stepped inside the ring of stones, Cassie struggled to her feet and lurched forward, calling out her name. Seconds later, she found herself pinned against a standing stone, head spinning, shoulder blades bruised.
“Leave her alone, Corryn.” Tarian’s voice, full of menace, carried on the night breeze. “Your fight is with me.”
“But tormenting mortals is such fun.” He folded the finger he had pointed at Cassie, and the pressure holding her in place vanished. She stumbled to one knee and put out a hand to steady herself. “And we must take our pleasures where we find them,” he continued. “Don’t you agree?”
Tarian’s expression became glacial. “Don’t include me in that ‘we.’”
“Oh come now. A former favourite of the Queen’s can hardly take the moral high ground.”
“I’m not that Tarian anymore.”
“Aren’t you?” He sounded sceptical.
Tarian gave an impatient flick of her hand. “Enough. You wanted my attention. You have it. Now what?”
He studied her. “You’ve gone soft.” His lip curled. “You’ve lived among mortals for too long.”
Tarian’s eyebrow arched. “Strange. Living among them doesn’t appear to have softened you in the slightest.”
She murmured something to Anwar, and the dog bounded across the circle to Cassie’s side. Grateful tears pricked Cassie’s eyes as he licked the back of her hand, before turning and placing himself between her and Corryn. His hackles rose, his lips drew back from his teeth, and a low warning growl issued from the back of his throat.
Corryn let out a peal of laughter. “You think a hound can protect her from me?”
Tarian shrugged, folded her arms, and waited.
“Very well.” He folded his arms in mocking imitation. “You asked ‘now what?’. We fight, of course.”
Tarian’s glance took in the featureless turf bounded by the stones. “With what?”
He unfolded his arms and gestured. A pile of lethal-looking swords and daggers—made of bronze rather than steel, from their colour—materialised at Tarian’s feet. “Choose.”
She regarded him for a long moment before crouching down and sorting through the pile. No morning stars, at least, thought Cassie, remembering Tarian’s dislike of the weapon.
Tarian selected a sword and a dagger and tried a few practice passes. “These will suit me.” She straightened and inclined her head. “Your turn.”
Corryn selected a sword and dagger, and vanished the remaining weapons with a wave of his hand. “To the death,” he said.
“But that would give you the advantage.” Tarian frowned. “As I am sure you are aware.”
“Your point?” His grin was provocative.
“Where is the honour in such an uneven match?”
“Is exchanging your life for hers,” he indicated Cassie, “uneven?” His grin widened. “Besides, who said anything about honour?”
Tarian regarded him coolly. “I propose a more fair fight—to what would have been the death.”
His grin vanished. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“No fun but the satisfaction of a victory justly earned.” He opened his mouth to reply, but Tarian continued, “Consider this, Corryn. Word of this bout will reach Mab’s court. That much is certain. For though I may not live to bear witness, the birds and insects, the Midsummer breeze itself, will carry the news.” She cocked her head. “I may no longer be immortal but I am still Fae. And the Queen loved me once. Would it be wise, do you think, to anger her further?”
Tarian’s reminder made him frown. “Oh all right.”
I don’t trust him, thought Cassie, just as Tarian turned her head and looked at her. They locked gazes. “Don’t risk it,” she wanted to shout, but the words stuck in her throat. A sense of shame filled her. I’m a coward. I can think only of saving my own skin.
Tarian’s expression softened, and Cassie remembered that Tarian often seemed to know what she was thinking. This must be one of those times. Yet, far from condemnation, all she could read in those eyes was compassion.
“Courage,” mouthed Tarian, before turning to face Corryn once more.
He twirled his sword three times, then his manner became businesslike. “Shall we get on with it?”
Adopting a relaxed, slightly crouching posture, he raised his sword and dagger and shifted his centre of gravity over the balls of his feet. Tarian adopted a similar stance, and the two began to circle one another.
Bronzed blades flashed in the moonlight, but the clash of metal on metal sounded tentative to Cassie’s ears, and she realised that this was a testing of reflexes, a probing of defences, nothing more. Even so, something odd was happening. Whenever the blades touched, there was a spark.
The combatants paused, faces wearing identical expressions of puzzlement.
“Earth power?” wondered Corryn.
Tarian nodded. “Reacting to Fae magic?”
“Our own firework display.” Corryn grinned. “Splendid.”
He resumed his stance and circled her once more. Tarian adjusted her grip and kept her gaze on his face. The two closed, and this time the fight was in earnest. Corryn let loose a flurry of vicious strokes so fast that Cassie almost forgot to breathe. Fortunately, Tarian’s parries were like quicksilver too.
Each clash of blades p
roduced a bolt of energy. One almost hit Anwar, but he yelped and ducked out of the way in time. Several stones soon sported chips and smoking gouges. The fiercest bolt yet struck the stone behind Cassie. With a loud crack, rock that had stood since Neolithic times shattered. A splinter stung her cheek, and she clapped a hand to it and studied the result. The streak of blood on her palm looked black in the moonlight.
“Wait,” shouted Tarian. She tucked her dagger in her belt and her low murmur filled the circle. The shape her hands described glowed in the night air before dissolving.
Corryn’s sword lashed out.
“Tarian!” gasped Cassie.
But Tarian had already reacted to Corryn’s sneak attack, ducking away from the scything blade and bringing up her own sword. Weapons clashed, and lightning flashed. An energy bolt headed straight towards Cassie, glanced off some invisible barrier, and caromed off a standing stone. The top half of the stone cracked off and landed with a thud, sending up a spray of dirt and torn turf.
If Tarian’s spell hadn’t protected me . . . Heart in her mouth, Cassie returned her attention to the fight. Tarian’s face was a snarling mask. Cassie wished she could aid her, but she couldn’t risk distracting her. Fists curled in frustration, she willed Tarian on.
There was obviously a knack to fighting with dagger and sword, and both Fae had it. The intricate footwork, graceful thrusts and parries, and interplay of stroke with counterstroke reminded Cassie of a dance. But the turf with its bumps and hollows was far from ballroom standard—put a foot wrong and you could break an ankle.
The combatants broke apart at last to catch their breath and wipe the sweat from their faces. Tarian examined a bloody slash in her right sleeve before regarding Corryn with stormy eyes.
“Must I remind you that this fight is between us? Cassie is a non combatant.”
“Why should I care?” Strands of hair had stuck to his forehead. He swept them back with one hand. “That’s your problem, not mine.” Without warning, he lunged.
They grappled for each other’s wrists, panting and straining, struggling for mastery. Then the hilt of Tarian’s dagger caught Corryn on his temple. He staggered under the blow and took a step back.
“You’ll pay for that!”
“Promises, promises.” Tarian’s teeth gleamed in the moonlight.
Corryn flung away his sword, put his head down and charged. As they came to grips, his momentum combined with the slight downward slope to carry them half way across the circle. Tarian discarded her own sword—the better to grapple at close quarters, Cassie supposed—and punches flew and daggers rose and fell.
The tide of battle flowed first one way then the other. Cassie could only watch, torn between terror and hope, with her hand pressed to her mouth. But at last, Tarian managed to twist free of Corryn’s grip, draw back her arm, and thrust her dagger home.
As it slid beneath his ribs, he let out an animal-like grunt. For a moment they stood, locked as if in some grotesque embrace, then Corryn shoved Tarian away, and she let him.
Blood covered the dagger in Tarian’s hand. As Corryn dropped to his knees, lips moving, hands weaving a spell, she crouched and wiped the blade clean on the grass. “In anyone else that would have been a mortal blow. Our fight is over.”
It took a moment for him to heal his wound, then he got to his feet. He examined the gashed leather of his jacket with annoyance. “You’ve ruined it.”
“Buy yourself a new one.” Tarian turned to Cassie and beckoned.
Cassie took an eager step towards her, but Corryn’s “Not so fast, mortal,” stopped her in her tracks. She turned and gaped at him. A smile was playing around his lips.
“I’ve changed my mind about the rules, Tarian. To the death, I said. And I intend to have it.”
He motioned, and the sword lying on the far side of the circle flew towards him, hilt first. Corryn snatched it out of the air and threw himself at Tarian, who only just brought up her dagger in time.
Dismayed, Cassie retreated. The energy bolts generated by the blows and strikes that ensued were dazzling. She flinched as yet another one bounced off her protective bubble. The coruscating display must be visible from Nether Hopton. What were the villagers making of it? A local thunderstorm?
Something warm and wet nudged her hand—Anwar. A thought struck her, and she crouched next to the dog. “Where’s Drysi?” He whined and pawed the turf. She wished she could understand him.
The pace of combat slowed, and it seemed to Cassie that there was less skill involved, more mindless slogging. Curses and grunts of effort came from the two figures fighting among the increasingly battered stones. Tarian’s forehead was streaked with sweat and grime, and she looked exhausted. The numerous cuts and slashes she now sported caused Cassie a pang of apprehension and puzzlement. Was it simply that Tarian hadn’t had the time or opportunity to heal herself, or was she trying to conserve her resources?
Tarian’s discarded sword lay on the turf nearby. Perhaps if I—Cassie had taken a step towards it before she came to her senses and looked up, fearful that her action might have distracted Tarian.
It had. And as she watched, Corryn’s dagger slammed home.
“No!” howled Cassie, as Tarian dropped her own dagger, her hands coming up to clasp the hilt protruding from her abdomen. Her eyes were full of agony, but she made no sound as she collapsed to her knees and curled up around the terrible wound. Her neck looked horribly vulnerable to Corryn’s blade. “Look out!”
But Tarian didn’t seem to hear Cassie’s warning.
“Say goodbye to your protector, mortal,” crowed Corryn. He raised his sword high. “When she’s dead, you’re mine.”
TARIAN’S WOUND WAS excruciating, but she set her jaw against the pain and left the dagger where it was—she had neither time nor energy to deal with the blood loss. She had hoped to make her move earlier, in less precarious circumstances, but Corryn had proved far wilier than expected. His guard was down at last, though, distracted as he was with taunting a horrified Cassie.
I’ll wipe that smile off your face.
With a pang of regret that this might be her last sight of Cassie, Tarian turned her focus inwards. It had been distracting, storing in her mind the complex working she had prepared earlier, but it was vital if she were to be able to activate its component parts with a thought and a gesture. What she was attempting was risky, but with Cassie’s life in the balance . . .
Pushing her doubts aside, Tarian triggered the first part of her spell. Then, with a grasping, twisting motion, she called on the circle’s power to amplify her magic.
“What—?” said Corryn, as his blade cleared the crown of her head by a fraction of an inch. “How could I miss at that range?”
His gaze shifted, and his eyes widened. He was three feet in the air already, and gaining more height by the millisecond. With a howl of rage he threw his sword at her, but by then he had risen even higher, and it quivered, point first, in the turf by Tarian’s left knee.
She held the dagger piercing her stationary with one hand, and with the other pulled in yet more of the circle’s power. By now, Corryn was preparing to cast a disruption spell. Diverting a precious fraction of her energy, she set about countering it.
Blood oozed between Tarian’s fingers, and sweat trickled down her spine. Her vision seemed to be narrowing—it was like looking down a tunnel. Not good. But I’m almost there.
That must be enough for her purposes, surely? If it wasn’t . . . Well, she had given everything she had. “Say hello to Mab for me,” said Tarian.
With a gesture she activated the second part of the spell, and like an arrow, Corryn sped backwards, his path a long curving trajectory across the valley towards the crossing hidden in the heart of Bourn Forest. His shocked cry became one of outrage that faded into the distance until only the night sounds remained.
It’s done. She slumped back onto the turf and gazed at the stars wheeling high above her.
“Tarian!” Cassie�
��s face filled her failing vision.
She tried to lift her hand but it had become a lead weight. Warm tears splashed her face, and a rough tongue rasped them away. Anwar. She felt herself being lifted and cradled.
“Can you hear me?” Cassie sounded on the edge of panic.
Tarian managed a grunt.
“You have to heal yourself.”
Heal myself? Even breathing was too much effort.
“Tarian.” She felt herself being shaken, albeit gently. “I daren’t pull out the dagger. If I do, you’ll bleed to death. And if I don’t . . . Oh God, I think you’ll bleed to death anyway.” Hysteria filled Cassie’s voice. “You must heal yourself, Tarian. Now.”
“Can’t.” Tarian licked her lips. “No strength.”
A shocked silence met that admission. Then Cassie went on, “But Nether Hopton doesn’t have a hospital. Never mind that, idiot.” From her tone, she was thinking out loud. “A doctor. There must be a doctor. But how on earth am I to get you to him? Maybe Anwar could help drag you—”
The journey would kill me, thought Tarian. There’s one chance. A small one, some might say infinitesimal, but it might just work. It has to.
She reached out blindly—by now her vision had gone altogether. Her fingers brushed against something, and seconds later, a hand was clasping hers. “Get me . . . centre.”
“I don’t understand,” said Cassie round a sob. “What are you trying to tell me?” Hair tickled Tarian’s cheek. Cassie must have brought her ear closer to Tarian’s mouth.
She tried again. “Centre.” She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “Of circle.” Then the roaring in her ears became a great rushing wave that carried her away.
Chapter 5
It was a balmy day in Faerie, but then in Mab’s realm, which some called the Summer Country, it usually was. In the flower-dotted glade, the creak of leather and jingle of harnesses, the whicker of horses and murmur of voices had joined the hum of bees and song of woodland birds.
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