Knowledge Protects

by D. S. Williams

  Arasinya led us up a carved granite staircase, the steps gleaming in the sunlight. Above us, spread out over a half acre of the hillside was the impressive Pelathrad castle, ancestral home to Arasinya and her lineage. Crenellated towers, golden spires which reached towards the blue sky above and ornately carved granite walls and windows created a magical vision of beauty, far more elegant and breathtaking than anything I'd seen in Sarbon or Tamekeel. This was a fairytale castle, the stuff of childhood stories, and I shared a grin with Conal as we followed Arasinya and her courtiers into the castle itself.

  If the grounds outside the castle were busy, the halls and great rooms were twice as frantic. I peeked inside one room, with high vaulted ceilings and elegantly carved wooden walls, and saw a veritable army of female Fae, preparing cots, bandages, and Fae medicines. In another, dozens of Demi Fae were flying about, working in groups of eight or ten to stack huge amounts of fresh fruit and vegetables in crates against the walls. A third room revealed dozens of what I assumed were refugees, some bandaged and bruised, others walking with rudimentary crutches fashioned from sticks and branches. It seemed that Aethelwine's demise had brought the Fae together, and with Arasinya's leadership, they were preparing as best they could for the next onslaught. Arasinya caught me peering into the room with the refugees, and she smiled broadly. “We have taken a leaf from your book, Charlotte. We are trying to unite all the Fae against a common foe.”

  I exchanged a worried glance with Conal, and his frown confirmed what I'd noticed. While most of the Fae races were represented inside Pelathrad's walls – there was no sign of the Red Caps.

  We hurried up two flights of stairs and Arasinya led us out onto a balcony at the northern end of the castle, overlooking the courtyard we'd portalled into. My breath caught in my throat when I took in the scene far below us. Spread out over a vast distance was an army, the likes of which I'd never seen – not even in some of the blockbuster movies I'd watched on television. From this distance, we watched as they amassed in formation, thousands of tiny ant-like creatures spreading as far as I could see. I could distinguish the shapes and sizes of the people in the closest groups, who formed up perhaps a half mile from Pelathrad's gates, and could see the sunlight glinting off the weapons they held. Younglings – hundreds upon hundreds of them created an unruly row across the valley, perhaps a thousand wide and ten deep. If they weren't intimidating enough, creatures – things I'd never seen before, and never dreamed of in my wildest imaginings – waited behind them, lumbering back and forth, and from where we stood, I could pick up the strange noises and sounds they were making. “What are they?” I questioned.

  “We aren't sure. I believe they have been created with Bran's dark magic,” Arasinya explained.

  Behind the strange creatures, spread for a mile or more, resembling hundreds of tiny ants, were the rest of Archangelo's dark army. I recognized them for what they were, even though they waited so far away. Spirits. The dark spirits, the evil and malevolent who couldn't reach me, but had obviously been brought into being by Archangelo's powers. It seemed that if my own powers had grown, Archangelo's had also been increased, and a shiver of apprehension travelled down my spine as I wondered if he and Bran had learned of the effect of the Fae magic on my own abilities. Had they learned of my increased powers somehow? Or was this a result of Bran tapping into Enoch Bloodgood's dark magic? If this was Archangelo's army, I had no idea how to fight them. And worse – this was an army which hadn't yet been supplemented by the demons he would call from the otherworld.

  Conal whistled. “Shit. There has to be fifty thousand of them.”

  “More,” Epi said morosely. “Probably double that number.”

  It was an awe-inspiring sight and one which had me trembling. “How many warriors do you have?” I asked Arasinya. My entire group, along with every single spirit I could call on probably wouldn't amount to a hill of beans against what Archangelo had amassed.

  “As Goren said; our troops were severely depleted in the encounter at Sarbon,” Arasinya admitted. “We have probably fifteen thousand. We have called in all adult males to fight, and many females have volunteered, but most of those numbers – perhaps twenty thousand, are untried on the battlefield.”

  It wasn't going to be enough – not nearly enough.

  “What about the Red Caps?” Epi asked. “I didn't see them in the castle.”

  One of Arasinya's aides shook his head. “We have heard nothing from them.”

  I suspected we were screwed.

  “Not yet, my love,” Lucas whispered in my ear. “You must go ahead with the plan.”

  I turned back to Arasinya, squaring my shoulders and tilting my chin up defiantly. I had to do this. I needed to do everything I could to keep Archangelo and his army from annihilating us all. “I need to start shaking hands with people. As many as I can, as quickly as we can manage it.”

  The conglomeration of spirits I could control grew every time I shook hands with another Fae, and still I added more. Many of the Fae lived for hundreds of years, and their longevity provided us with literally hundreds of new soldiers. The headache which pounded in my skull increased with each passing hour, until I suspected my brain would explode – and still I added more, refusing to give up. I intended to continue adding spirits until the last possible moment, up until the last second before Archangelo attacked. Our entire contingent of fighters had arrived at Pelathrad from Zaen, and I was confident the people left behind – the sick, the helpless, the elderly, the pregnant women, and children, would be safe – no matter what happened in this final fight. My baby son was safe inside the walls of Zaen, and although Nememiah and I had clashed many times in the past, I had to place some faith in the fact that he would keep Patrick safe, along with Kazuki and the baby Misaki still carried. They were the future of Nememiah's Children, and I couldn't allow myself to imagine any scenario other than them surviving.

  I truly believed this would be the final fight. This catalyst would either win the war – or lose it. There would be no in between, no chance of meeting on another field of battle. My gut told me that whatever was going to happen would occur here at Pelathrad in the next few hours.

  “You need to take a break,” Conal urged an hour or so later, when I wavered on my feet and struggled to see as my vision blurred. “And you need an injection.”

  I shook my head. “No injection.”

  Jerome was standing behind Conal, carrying a kidney bowl and he stared at me. “What the hell?”

  I shook my head again, the pounding through my temples threatening to topple me. “No injection. The Fae magic is stronger without the analgesic, and we need all the help we can get.”

  Jerome opened his mouth to argue, but Conal caught his arm and shook his head. I'd been running on instinct for days now, and so far, those instincts had proven right. Conal loved me and trusted in me enough to follow the path I'd placed us on. “Leave it, Jerome,” he stated quietly. “Let it go.”

  I glanced down at my skin, checking the mass of sigils which still glowed teal blue across my arms, hands, shoulders, and chest. I replaced a couple which had begun to fade, and offered Conal heartfelt thanks.

  “You still need to rest. Come on.”

  Clasping my hand in his, Conal led me up another flight of stairs and into a handsomely decorated sleeping chamber. “The Fae certainly know how to appreciate beauty,” he muttered as he led me across to the canopied bed and pushed me gently to sit on the edge. “Sleep, Sugar. A couple of hours.”

  I glanced towards the window anxiously, but wherever we were in the castle, this window only displayed a view of the breathtaking mountains behind us, rather than the horrific scene which awaited further down the slope. “I don't have time to sleep.”

  “You need to be on your game when the time comes, and you're practically cross-eyed with exhaustion,” Conal argued. He strode around the bed and lay down, holding his arms out in welcome. “An hour or two, Sugar. Otherwise you're going to be no use to
anyone.”

  Giving in, I flopped down onto the pillow and wrapped my arm around Conal's waist. He cuddled me close and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

  “Thank you,” I muttered tiredly, barely able to keep my eyes open. “Thank you for believing in me.”

  “I love you, Charlotte. I'll follow you wherever you take me,” he responded simply. “I just hope we're not all going straight to Hell.”

  “I think I've mentioned before, I don't think that's wher—”

  I didn't manage to finish the sentence before I fell into an exhausted, troubled sleep.

  ≈†◊◊†◊◊†◊◊†≈

  A whistling sound woke me, and I turned towards the windows, trying to figure out where it was coming from. From outside, I heard a roar as granite exploded and wood splintered. Conal was on his feet before I'd begun to figure out what was happening, but the terror in his expression confirmed the truth. The battle had begun. Another shrill whistle assaulted my ears, and Conal threw my weapons belt to me. “Hurry, Sugar.”

  Horns sounded throughout the castle, warning of the call to arms, and I slipped the belt around my waist, cringing as the next explosion shook the walls surrounding us. My fingers shook as I did up the buckle, and I took a moment to inhale deeply, trying to ground myself before I faced what was waiting for us outside.

  Conal wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me close, pressing his lips to mine in a frantic, desperate kiss. “You're sure about this?” he questioned when he pulled back, and his eyes searched mine, seeking confirmation.

  I nodded. “You're stronger as a wolf. This is what we need to do. I'm sure of it. We need to play to our strengths.” Shutting my eyes for the briefest of instances, a flash of pain accompanied the bringing of thousands of spirits into corporeal form. What had once taken so much effort to manage, could now be done with a single thought.

  Lucas, Phelan, and Lyell appeared in the chamber with us, and Lucas offered me a reassuring smile.

  Conal hesitated for a split-second before he transformed, and he stared at Lucas. Every ounce of fear and desperation was visible in his eyes when he spoke, his terror of losing me a tangible weight between us. “You'll keep her safe?”

  Lucas dipped his head. “You know I will.”

  With a growl, Conal transformed, leaving his shredded clothes to scatter across the chamber's wooden floor. With one last howl, he bounded out the doorway and disappeared.

  “Come love,” Lucas said, holding out his hand. “Let's end this.”

  “Just a second.” I took the Hjördis from my belt and placed it against my skin, marking two sigils above my left breast. I'd told no-one of my plan to wear two fearless sigils, not even Conal – knowing everyone would protest that the action would make me foolhardy. The spirits had tried, but failed, to talk me out of it and Lucas only offered me a frustrated glance as I marked them, but remained mute. With one last check of the weapons belt, I took Lucas' hand and we hurried down the stairs to meet the others.

  The contrast between the cool, high walls of the castle and the warmth of the spring-like day was extreme. Unlike Zaen, here in the Realm the weather was considerably warmer, and if not for the sights and sounds of battle around us, I would have considered it a beautiful day. But as it was, I had little time to think on anything as we met the onslaught.

  Arasinya ran by my side, the gorgeous gown replaced by a leather tunic and pants, and she gripped the Sword of Galion in both hands. Conal and Nick bounded along on either side of Arasinya and me, and the spirits made up the line. In front of us, Ben, Ripley, Striker, and William provided a further level of protection, because everyone knew I would be the biggest target on the field. Over to our right, Epi and the other witches and wizards were in their own formation, with Rowena, Marianne, Acenith and Gwynn providing protection.

  The plan was simple. I intended to deal with Archangelo, and Epi and the other magical members of our group were going after Bran. Everyone else would be supporting us as much as they could, and keeping Archangelo's army from reaching Pelathrad's gates. Far above us, the sounds of weapons fire echoed across the mountain as Matt, Clint and their team discharged weapons into the legions coming towards us, using sniper rifles to pick off individual targets, the machine guns to hold back the demons and rocket launchers striking the middle of the fray, decimating groups of the enemy at a time and giving us an opportunity to counterattack.

  Every spirit was brought onto the field of battle with a thought, and they joined us instantly, taking on everything in their paths. It was apparent our numbers came as a shock to Bran and Archangelo, and we began to push back against their forces, expanding the gap to the city behind us as their numbers slowly reduced.

  It was immediately apparent that Archangelo was somewhere nearby, manipulating the spirits to destroy my equilibrium. Spirits I never normally saw, the ghostly incarnations of those who couldn't reach me because of ill intentions were being used to his advantage. I was grateful for the fearless sigils, which kept me calmer, but my knees buckled when Laurence Armstrong ran towards me, claws outstretched. Just a few feet away, Conal and Nick leapt on the shifter, biting, and snarling at his corporeal form until it dissipated.

  “Charlotte, do not allow Archangelo to play mind games with you!” Lucas warned. I couldn't see him in the surrounding carnage, and he needed to yell to be heard over the constant shouts, screams and explosions occurring around us. I heard him grunt with exertion and he emitted a roar, and I suspected he had killed someone unfortunate enough to meet up with him. “Ignore his nonsense and fight, love!”

  I didn't respond, wading further into the enemy's ranks, dispatching younglings with weapons, dancing out of the way of attacks. The smell of blood was all around us, along with the heavy scents of sweat and fear. Smoke billowed into the sky from the damage Pelathrad castle was subjected to, and wisps of smoke blew across the field, obscuring vision and making my eyes burn. Still we fought as a unit; people from all levels of society and species, stepping forward together, supporting one another. Overhead, dragons with their Pixie riders wafted up and down with a flap of the dragons' wings, attacking the enemy below with incendiary devices and the dragons' flaming breath, creating paths of destruction through the strange creatures Bran had drawn into battle.

  “Charlotte! Look out!” Ripley's voice reached my ears, and I turned on the spot to discover a Valafar lumbering towards us. It was being ridden by a youngling, who urged the demon on with a sharp kick of his heels and I stared in disbelief, trying to comprehend what I saw. Striker snatched at my arm and leaped, pulling us out of the way before the Valafar ploughed through the spot where I'd been standing. I offered him a weak smile, mentally shaking myself.

  Some of the smoky drifts parted for a few seconds, and in the distance, I caught sight of Epi and Bran. The witches and wizards had created a semi-circle facing off against the tall, grey-cloaked wizard, but it was apparent almost instantly that Epi and my friends were struggling against Bran's dark incantations. Epi had his hands up in front of his face, creating complicated patterns in thin air with his fingers, sending all manner of magical strength at Bran. In the brief instant I saw them, Epi brought a great wave of flames racing towards Bran, but the evil wizard counteracted with a spell of his own, sending water to stem the flames. Where the flames met the water, steam filled the air, and I lost sight of them.

  “Have faith in Epi,” Mom reminded me, and I swallowed back fear and plunged back into the fight.

  “Where's Archangelo?” I demanded. Wherever he was, I thought he must be able to see me, because he kept sending spirits my way to try and snap the tenuous control I had on my emotions. A glance at my chest revealed one fearless sigil was already used up, the second swiftly fading.

  Ambrose Wilkes ran towards me, trench coat flapping in the breeze, his bare chest covered in blood. There was madness in his eyes and a Fae sword in his hands but Lucas slammed into the entity, the two vanishing from my field of view. A few minutes la
ter, Arawn approached, but only lasted for a moment or two before William struck him down, dissipating him into the steamy, smoky, blood-soaked atmosphere surrounding us.

  Signs of Bran's dark magic were all around us, in the volleys of magic which hit Pelathrad's walls and the castle itself, destroying the city, block by granite block with magical explosions and fiery bombs the size of small boulders, thrown from massive trebuchets being operated by younglings and dark spirits. Other events happened closer, members of our group being knocked to the ground and mauled by the strange creatures Bran had created, or decapitated by slices of an invisible wind, seemingly bent on destroying everything in its path. Massive fireballs reminded me of lava bombs when they soared through the air, landing among our people, setting their clothes on fire, injuring and killing everyone in their paths.

  “Now, Charlotte!” Lucas shouted.

  I released the second throng of spirits, the ones we'd been holding back. It was the signal I'd been waiting for; Epi had gained the upper hand with Bran, and I could only pray that he and his team would put a stop to this madness, because I suspected we couldn't win.

  “You little bitch…” I slipped on the bloody ground when I heard my stepfather's voice and twisted to find him stalking towards me. Before he could say more, Nick leapt onto his chest and cut off his voice by crushing his windpipe between his fangs. The body of my hated stepfather disappeared in a waft of smoke and I sobbed brokenly, horrified by what I was seeing. The fearless sigil had stopped working, and my fears slammed into my heart and chest, exacerbated by the knowledge that Archangelo was nearby; taunting me, determined to take me back. He was nearby and he was going to capture me and—