Knowledge Protects

by D. S. Williams

  Nonny arrived with a tray, passing out our meals and Conal opened the can of soda, then annoyed the heck out of Marianne by carefully cutting up the enchiladas so I could eat them one-handed with a fork.

  When Conal grinned at her, Marianne poked out her tongue in return and Misaki chided her gently. “You can hardly blame Charlotte for wanting her son in her arms, after everything that's happened.”

  “Of course not,” Marianne agreed with a burst of tinkling laughter, “but the least she can do is share.”

  “So, bring me up to speed,” I requested when I'd finished the meal and pushed the plate away. “What happened while I was gone?”

  Conal's arm tightened around my shoulders and I saw the troubled expression in his eyes. “Sugar…”

  “I need to know, Conal.”

  With a sigh, he began to talk. “They started attacking us within twelve hours of your disappearance. Constant attacks around the clock, and we had no way of stopping the Fae from breaching the walls. Most of our efforts went into keeping them away from the gates.” The expression in his eyes was bleak. “We lost a lot of good people shoring up those gates. Everyone who could use weapons fought the demons they were sending, day and night. The wolves and the shifters focused on the vampires and the rest of our group protected the gates.”

  Striker took up the story and I squeezed Conal's hand, beginning to understand the toll the past months had taken on him and the rest of our group. “The Drâghici knew our weaknesses, obviously, they were aware that the Fae could enter Zaen. They sent thousands of them, battalions of archers, masses of swordsmen. The assault was constant, didn't give us much time to formulate counterattacks.”

  “Epi and the witches used every one of their powers, creating barriers, fires – anything they could think of – to keep the Fae from the gates,” Marianne added.

  “In the final battle, which was more of a siege than anything else, we took such a hit to our numbers, over four hundred died in a couple of hours. Conal called for a retreat,” Rafe added solemnly.

  “How did you get everyone out?” It seemed remarkable to think anyone could survive under that sort of onslaught.

  “We'd put contingency plans into place – I knew we were swiftly running out of options,” Conal said. “Epi and I decided to create portals as a precaution. Had them set up, ready to go, just leaving off the final sigil. We'd chosen a couple of safe sites – places to send our people if Zaen got overrun. We set the portals up in the courtyard and when I sounded the retreat, the portals were opened by Epi and the witches. Our people fled as the fighters retreated, keeping the courtyard protected for as long as possible to get our people through to safety.”

  “Initially, we split up, sent people to half a dozen safe zones we'd set up, in case any of the enemy made it through one of the portals. Once we were secure, we collected everybody and brought them here,” Acenith added.

  I was quiet for a long time, contemplating what they'd told me. “What happened to Zaen?”

  Conal brush his fingertips over my arm. “We made a reconnaissance trip to Zaen, a few days later, hoping we could discover a way to maybe retake the city. They'd managed to destroy all the generators, despite the enchantments. By the time we got there, the city was destroyed. I'm assuming they brought Bran in, used his magic to destroy the city.”

  I couldn't imagine Zaen's complete destruction. It wasn't feasible. The walls – they were twelve feet thick – surely, they'd survived? Even if we didn't have roofs over our heads, the walls would surely keep us safe if we could get in and repair the generators, find a way to keep the Fae out.

  As if he was reading my thoughts, Striker spoke. “They destroyed everything, Lottie. The walls are down, damaged beyond repair. Once they destroyed the shields, we're assuming Bran was able to use his magic to demolish the walls.”

  Reluctant to believe what I was hearing, I slumped in my seat. Zaen was gone? The prospect chilled my heart as I tried to assimilate what they'd said with my memories of Zaen, its brilliant white stone walls sparkling in the sunshine, long green grass swaying in the breeze.

  Patrick stirred in my arms and I lowered my gaze to him, brushing one finger across his little cheek. His eyes opened and he stared at me, emerald green eyes wide as he gazed at my face. Inhaling a deep breath, I spoke to the one person who might be able to help.

  “Nememiah?”

  There was a long wait before he responded. “Yes, Child?”

  “Can we do this? Is it possible to rebuild Zaen?”

  The silence lasted even longer. “Yes, Child. Anything is possible… if you want it badly enough.”

  “Do I have to do it alone?”

  “I have done far more than I should. If you want this, it is your task and yours alone.”

  “What about the Fae? Is there any way to keep them out?”

  “It can be accomplished.”

  I turned my attention back to the others sitting at the two tables. “We're going to rebuild Zaen. All of it.”

  Conal wiped his hand roughly across his jaw. “I'm not sure we can.”

  I cupped his cheek in my palm. “I know I haven't shown much faith in you recently, but do you trust me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then trust that I can do this.”

  Nissa leaned back in her own chair, watching me intently. “How do you propose we accomplish this feat, Angel?”

  I thought for a minute, considering what I'd been told and searching for an idea that would give us access to Zaen. “You say it's still being guarded?”

  Striker nodded, crossing his arms on the table. “There were about forty Fae guarding the place.”

  “What about demons, vampires?”

  “Only Fae, from what we could ascertain. The Drâghici seem to be passing off a lot of the yard work to them. The demons don't stay long enough without a specific target to destroy and although we struggled against them, I think we managed to put a sizeable dent in the youngling ranks,” Nick suggested. He picked up his coffee cup and watched me over the rim, scrutinizing me carefully. “What you got in mind, Lott?”

  “Give me a minute.” I spoke extensively to the spirits, asking for advice, and listening to their suggestions. When I'd gotten their contributions, I turned to Nissa with a sly smile. “I think it's time the Fae discovered the truth – and I think their former King is the right person to tell them about it.”

  Chapter 23: Convincing

  Hearing about Zaen's destruction had in no way prepared me for the reality.

  The granite walls, which I'd imagined to be impenetrable, had been smashed into so much rubble. From our position at the edge of the woods, the devastation was plainly visible and tugged at my heart.

  Blackened and burnt-out cottages were visible behind the broken walls, desolate in the brilliant sunlight. Roofs had caved in and every building I could see had been heavily damaged. It reminded me of what I'd seen in historical photographs, when cities had been obliterated as bombs rained down on them.

  Matt was lying on his stomach beside me, and he reached across to give my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Using powerful binoculars, he'd been ascertaining the numbers guarding Zaen, and now he raised five fingers, closed his fist slowly, then repeated the movement.

  Fifty-five Fae. It was more than we'd expected and I nodded confirmation, even as I swallowed heavily, my anxiety levels rising.

  We'd portalled into Zaen earlier this morning, arriving at the border and making our way on foot to the woods near the city. We'd stopped at the edge of the tree line, the final coverage we could utilize before reaching the city itself.

  Using the Hjördis, I marked an invisibility signal on my wrist, aware of the pounding of my heart when I stood up cautiously. The Fae had exceptional hearing and would be on alert for anyone in the vicinity.

  With a moment of intense concentration, I had sixty spirits corporeal and on the ground. Along with the issues caused by the Fae magic, there had been some unexpected benefits
; specifically, that my powers had increased exponentially as we discovered when I first returned to training with Conal, Nick and Arasinya. With a curt nod, Lucas, and the others began to run towards Zaen. We took up the rear, sprinting behind them across the flat ground. Matt, Clint, and a couple of our men – who were ex-military – remained at the edge of the woods, targeting the Fae through scopes on the sniper rifles they'd brought as added precaution. They would provide covering fire if things went drastically wrong and we needed to retreat in a hurry.

  A chill ran down my spine, doubting if this plan had any chance of success. After copious hours of negotiations, this was the best idea we'd come up with, but it left us exposed if it went wrong. My thoughts turned to Patrick, who I'd left in Rowena's care. I worried over whether I would see him again. It had only been a week since he'd come back into my arms; I couldn't bear the thought of not being there to see him grow up.

  Pushing the thought away, I regrouped and focused on the task at hand. Lucas glanced back at me with a reassuring smile, and I knew he'd do everything to ensure Patrick would be in my arms tonight. Bolstering my courage, I increased my speed to keep up with the others. Conal caught my hand in his and squeezed my fingers.

  We slowed as we approached the destroyed city; though the spirits made no noise moving across the ground, it was a different situation for the rest of us and the smallest sound might reveal our approach. We came to a stop about twenty feet from the destroyed walls, and each of the spirits took up their positions, standing behind a member of the Fae guard.

  I glanced toward Striker and nodded, letting him know the spirits were ready. He held up a thumb in acknowledgement. The men waited patiently as I dropped to one knee and released a tiny, golden orb onto the path.

  Shouts and increased struggling marked the instant when the Fae detected the rapidly-growing orb; drawing their weapons, they turned en masse towards it. The spirits moved in, quickly disarming the Fae, throwing their weapons to one side and gripping their arms together behind their backs. The Fae men struggled against their unseen captors, but couldn't overpower them.

  Everyone watched the orb growing, and it took on the intimidating shape of Keenan in just under a minute, further proof of my enhanced abilities. We would remain concealed for another four minutes, but I was anxious about what happened when the sigil wore off. I hoped Keenan could persuade the Fae to believe him, before that situation eventuated.

  Their former King's arrival, ostensibly whole, solid, and alive, startled the Fae. Keenan drew the sword secured across his wide back, and held it aloft. Yells echoed among the Fae and I wondered what they were thinking. Did they imagine Keenan was a hallucination? A ghost?

  Keenan spoke, his deep voice booming. “My brethren. Your King has returned.” He paused, holding the intricately engraved sword high over his head. “You see me before you, and no doubt think I am an apparition, perhaps a figment of your imaginations. Neither is true. I speak to you now, with the aid of the Nememiah's Child – the very person you guard these walls against.”

  Unintelligible mutters erupted in the Fae group and I tried to read their physical reactions. Although excellent at hiding emotional responses, it was obvious that what they were seeing mystified them. Whether that would turn out to be a good or a bad thing, remained to be seen.

  Keenan stepped towards them, lowering the sword, and running the flat of the blade across his hand. “I carry the sword of Galion, the sword I carried into battle against our enemies. The sword was taken by Princess Arasinya and placed into hiding at my death. Aethelwine told you Arasinya stole the sword. She deceived you.” Keenan inhaled deeply, his barrel-shaped chest rising and falling with his fury over Aethelwine's deception. “Princess Arasinya is my true heir, the rightful Queen of the Realm. She took my sword lawfully, and has returned it to me now we face a new threat.”

  A short, stocky man with silvery-blond hair and eyes the color of pomegranates spoke up. “This is renegade trickery. King Keenan died more than five years past! There is no truth to these blasphemous falsehoods!”

  Keenan's shoulders stiffened. He strode over to the man who'd spoken, pressing the blade of the sword against the man's cheek. “You dare question me, Blinden of Somal? I remember the day you were born, the rejoicing and drinking done by your father, Cramen. Cramen drank so much dandelion wine, he needed to remain at the castle for an extra two days, to recover from his excesses! Do you not remember the day of your wedding – my arrival at the celebrations and the gift I gave to you and Marriany? I provided you with two goblets of the finest gnome gold, carrying my own crest and taken from my own table!” Keenan inched closer, his face inches from Blinden's. “Do you not feel my blade against your cheek?” he boomed.

  Keenan nodded to Lyell Tremaine, who'd been restraining Blinden's arms. Lyell released his grip on the Fae warrior and took a step back. “Reach forward, Blinden, and tell me I am not real,” Keenan ordered.

  With a perceptibly shaking hand, Blinden touched the blade against his cheek and then reached out, touching Keenan's thick arm with tentative fingers. “This is trickery,” he repeated, sounding far less confident.

  I checked my watch; we had less than a minute before we would reappear. Conal was grim, his dark features intense. He was on edge, poised for action and I fingered the Katchet at my waist nervously.

  “Why would the Renegades trick you?” Keenan barked. “What purpose would it serve?”

  Blinden blinked sluggishly, staring up at Keenan. “What is my eldest child's name?” he demanded abruptly.

  “Arnica. A daughter born at the first new moon of the year, a child with lustrous aqua eyes, like her mother's. She caused you and Marriany endless worry when she refused the bonding you had arranged for her with Brin of Thedlen, instead wanting to love bond with a local Fairy. You and Marriany argued over it, and Marianny sided with Arnica.” Keenan chuckled, the noise echoing out across the plain. “Marriany won the dispute, by refusing you in her bed for three months.”

  Startled by this turn in the argument, I glanced at Conal. He returned my gaze, raising an eyebrow, and shrugging imperceptibly. I had no idea where Keenan was going with this discussion, nor what point he was trying to make.

  Blinden relaxed, his features molding into a tranquil expression. He stared at Keenan, his expression revealing some emotion I couldn't put a name to. “If you are, beyond any doubt, my King – you will know why I truly gave in to Marriany.”

  Keenan laughed, the deep sound reverberating the ground beneath my feet. “My friend, was it not enough that she refused you for three months? A long time for any Fae to exist without the pleasures of the flesh! I am indeed aware, of why you bowed to Marriany's will. You would recall, your beloved Arnica approached me personally, and begged from her Fairy's acceptance into the Royal Guard, to assure him an occupation acceptable to her father. I set out for your home that very day, and reminded you of your own desire to love bond with a commoner. Many years earlier, you had approached me when you wished to bond with Marriany. After Arnica's request, my friend, I threw your fervent desire to marry for love alone back in your face, reminding you that what Arnica wanted, was exactly what you had desired so many years before.”

  Blinden dropped to one knee, bending his left arm, and slapping his chest with forearm and fist. “My King. You alone, could know of that event.”

  I knew our time had run out when the Fae began to shout and yell as we appeared. “Conal Tremaine!” Blinden shouted.

  Keenan lifted the sword over his head, drawing the Fae's attention. “Bow before your King!” he demanded, his authority hard to deny.

  The spirits released their hold on the Fae simultaneously, stepping back to let them obey Keenan's order. I held my breath.

  One by one, each man dropped to one knee and Keenan kept them in that position for a few minutes, turning back to wink at us triumphantly. He beckoned to me and I joined him.

  “Arise.” The Fae got to their feet, observing us without comment.
“This is the woman you regard as an enemy. This is the woman Aethelwine has ordered killed or captured. This is Charlotte Duncan, the Nememiah's Child.”

  The Fae exchanged glances with one another and Keenan continued. “Aethelwine is not the true Queen of the Fae Realm. She stole the throne and my death was not the result of natural causes. Aethelwine was the architect of my demise and she stole the throne from Arasinya.

  A powerfully-built Fae with ebony skin spoke. “My King, how is that you become visible to us now, in flesh and bone?”

  Keenan turned to me, his eyes twinkling and I realized how much fun he was having with this little dramatic scene we'd created. A tiny smile blossomed on my lips.

  “I appear before you, to spread the truth of Aethelwine's deceit. The Angels have returned, in the form of this young woman standing before you. She is the true child of Nememiah and her extraordinary gifts have brought me back. You will treat her with respect and I order you to join the renegades in expelling the dark forces currently overrunning the Realm.” Keenan's eyes narrowed. “These men, whom you believe to be the enemy, are fighting for their existence. Aethelwine has aligned herself with the Drâghici vampire – not for the betterment of our people, but to shore up her position as the usurper of the Fae throne – and increase her vicious stranglehold over the Realm.”

  An uneasy and protracted silence followed. The Fae exchanged glances and spoke telepathically, casting furtive glances in our direction. Keenan waited tolerantly while they spoke, huge, tree-like arms crossed over his broad chest and I assumed he was happy with the direction their conversation headed, because he offered no further persuasion.

  “What say you, Blinden?” Keenan asked a few minutes later, studying the Fae man with interest.

  “For the most part, the prospect of Aethelwine not being the rightful heir to the throne is a welcome relief, Sire,” Blinden admitted cautiously.

  “For the most part?” Keenan bellowed.

  Peripheral awareness of rapid movement came before my eye detected it – a tall, broad-shouldered Fae moving swiftly, snatching up one of the dagger's he'd been forced to drop. He threw it with a powerful swing of his arm and it sped towards Conal. There was no time to shout a warning; I concentrated on the dagger instead, halting its progress mere inches from Conal's chest.