by Alex Rivers
Before, I’d always used fear in the same way. I took it into myself, magnifying it, and slammed it back. I’d used it as a blunt, destructive weapon. But now, with the First’s powers flowing through my veins, I knew exactly how to read and manipulate fear with nuance.
I summoned Teyrnon’s fear, and it came to me, humming through the air in deep, pewter strands. His anxieties vibrated through the air, a resonant dirge. I listened, tuning in to the song of his fear. I heard his resonant concern over his little girl, who’d been sick when he had left for war. She was still sick, and maybe she wouldn’t recover. Just above that fear, the trilling terror of infection. Would the Unseelie, with our bestial bodies, poison him with our mere presence?
A loud, staccato fear of fire pounded rhythmically. As a young boy, he’d burned his hand, and the terror of fire had remained with him to this day. And underneath it all, the heavy, sonorous sounds of his death fears, the notes that vibrated so deeply he didn’t even know they were there.
I could get lost in the symphony of his fears, perfect harmonies for my soul. But I had a purpose.
I tuned in to a high-pitched keen, almost inaudible. He was dreading the day the prince would arrive. The prince expected him to have taken the fort already, would think him a coward. I shaped this strand, amplifying it in a wild crescendo, until it rang out over the fields as an overwhelming anxiety that would haunt every minute of his day.
Then, I tuned into another strand of fear, the one about Cingeto’s Fortress and its defenses. Then, the ones about death. I could amplify these fears, convince him that he’d lose the battle, make him piss himself with fears of burning oil. But I couldn’t take from him the knowledge that reinforcements were on their way. He’d simply wait it out until the Seelie forces had grown, until others could lead the attack. We needed him to attack when they were still unprepared.
So I stifled those fears, muffling his worries about the height of the wall, the burning oil on the parapet, the rocks and arrows that would rain down on his forces. I took the deeply booming death fears and muted them until he forgot about the hot oil and the pain, forgot that we might kill him.
Our men were weak with hunger; he could see it by the starving horses, the gaunt faces. The odds were overwhelmingly in the Seelie army’s favor.
I was the Mistress of Dread. But the other side of fear was bravery, and I could manipulate that, too. And the line between bravery and stupidity was often smudged and unclear.
As I finished my work, time resumed its pace.
“…nothing to talk about,” Teyrnon said. His sneer was gone, replaced by disgust. “Go back to your little fort, you sickly animals. We will not meet again.”
Almost as one, the entire group turned their horses, riding away in a cloud of dust.
I took a deep breath. “They will attack very soon. We should let the general know.”
The sun dipped lower over the horizon, casting long shadows over the battlefield, washing Roan in golden light.
“Are you certain?” he asked.
“Fairly certain.” Tiredness sapped my body. “I think we need to get some sleep before they muster their forces and launch their attack. Teyrnon is not going to want to wait.”
Chapter 34
One of the Unseelie servants had led Roan and me to a room in a tower, where the moonlight streamed in through a narrow window onto a canopied bed. Candlelight flickered over the arched, stone ceiling.
With my belly full of stew and mulled cider, I pulled off my sweater. Bathed in the warm candlelight, Roan was already sitting at the edge of the bed, pretending that he wasn’t watching me undress.
My nerves warred with my exhaustion, but the bed called to me like a siren. Within moments, I was curled up in the blankets, ready to feel Roan’s body curl around me. Sleep claimed my mind before I even saw him blow out the candles.
I’d been dreaming about Roan, about swimming with him in a crystal-clear river, when the blaring sound of battle horns ripped me from my sleep. I woke to find the room still dark, Roan’s powerful arms wrapped around me.
“What?” I muttered.
“The Seelie.” In a flash of movement, Roan was out of the bed, pulling on his shirt. “They are attacking.”
Adrenalin buzzed through my body. “They could have waited until the sun came up,” I muttered, snatching my leather pants from the floor.
“Come.” Somehow, Roan was already in his leather armor, already strapping his sword onto his body. “We need you at the wall.” And with that, he slipped into the darkened fortress hallway.
With a beating heart, I pulled on a shirt, then slipped on my mirror bracelets. Had we really made the right decision yesterday? Or should we have retreated after all?
I pushed my worries to the back of my skull, latching on my belt with the two stiletto knives. Steadying my nerves, I crossed to the door.
In the torchlit hallways, Unseelie were running around in full armor, shouting to each other, fear mingling with relief. The dread before the attack had been crippling. Now, the anxiety of uncertainty had been replaced by the adrenaline of battle. As I moved through the hallway, they moved reverently out of my way, their conversation going quiet. Apparently, I had quite the reputation here.
I climbed a dark, winding stairwell until I reached the moonlit parapet that loomed over the battlefield. As soon as I stepped outside, the wind bit at my skin through my shirt. Shivering, I hugged myself as I joined Roan and Borvo by one of the towers.
“You were right,” Borvo said in wonder. Silvery light glinted off his chain mail armor. “They’re attacking.”
They marched through the darkness, still out of shooting range—thousands of torches flickering in the night, the Seelie army moving as one.
Our men swarmed around us, rolling large barrels, stoking fires under metal cauldrons. The stench of burning oil curled into my nostrils. To either side of us, rows of archers prepared their arrows, positioning them for easy draw.
Someone tapped my shoulder, and I turned to see a tall, stooping man with feathery black eyebrows and a hooked nose. “Mistress? I am assigned to be your shield man.”
I frowned. “My what, now?”
Borvo cleared his throat. “We need you to win this battle, Mistress. Galvyn will make sure that you don’t get killed by a lucky shot, or a skillful swordsman.”
“Fair enough.”
With a growing sense of nervousness, I stared out at the oncoming Seelie horde, their march slow and relentless. All around me, my own fear bellowed—the fear for our men, the fear that we might lose, fear for my own life, and above it all, my terror that someone would hurt Roan. If I let it overwhelm me during the battle, I wouldn’t be able to function at all. I didn’t need to calm myself using breathing techniques anymore. I plucked at my own tendrils of dread, muting them, just enough until I could think clearly again.
A war drum beat along with their march, and I was sure I could feel the ground trembling, even from here.
My own heartbeat melded with the pounding of the Seelie drum, a relentless hammering. And all around us, terror hummed and resonated through the air. Nearby, Roan patrolled the parapet, barking orders. He was excited, ready for blood. These were the emotions that he’d carried with him for years. But glimmering under the battle fury was a newer emotion—his concern for me. I felt within him a steely resolve to protect me at all costs, even if it meant the loss of his own life.
Slowly, the first rays of dawn began to stain the sky with crimson fingers. The archers stood, arrows nocked, and a cool breeze whistled over the parapet. Staring out onto the marching enemy line, my blood began to roar in my ears. At last, when the Seelie were within range, Borvo bellowed his orders.
The archers fired in unison, loosing at least two hundred arrows into the air, whistling as they went. The forces below began advancing faster, still moving in unison. The Seelie raised their shields, and most of the arrows thwacked off of them. A few holes opened in the front lines where warriors
fell, but more warriors quickly filled them in. The host kept moving, the drum beating louder.
As the sun rose higher, nearly blinding me, figures rose from within the Seelie army. Like angels, dozens of fae hovered in the air, their white wings bathed in ruddy light.
My throat went dry. They’d chosen their attack time well, when we could hardly see them coming in the rising sun. They swooped for the parapet, armed with bows of their own.
Roan was by my side, pointing to a winged Seelie with a golden bow. “There. That belongs to Balor’s armory. They are using our weapons against us.”
The flying fae split into two groups, arrows ready. My shield man shoved his shield before me, yelling at me to duck. Arrows began whistling, dropping on us from the sky around us. Roan had taken cover under the hailstorm of arrows, but an archer fell next to us, an arrow lodged in his eye socket. The rest of our archers were now aiming higher at the flying fae. But the sun was blinding them, and we no longer had the advantage of higher ground.
A few hundred yards from us, a loud blast exploded on the parapet, hurling two archers into a wall.
Crouching behind the battlement, I peered through an arrow slit, watching the Seelie with the golden bow. He loosed an arrow at the parapet, and when it hit, another blast rocked the entire fortress, closer this time. Heat from the explosion seared my face.
Roan was shouting orders for our archers to take out the golden-bowed Seelie, and our flying archers took to the skies. Through the arrow slit, I stared at the aerial attack. They were close enough, now.
Time slowed down, and I could hear the chorus of fears singing around them. I pulled their fears into me, a dissonant stream of terror. This was no time to be subtle. I amplified the fear, my back arching as the vibrations filled me. When it had reached a paralyzing terror, I rose, flinging out my arms to send it back to them.
Three of them dropped like stones, wings frozen in mid-air. Others dropped their weapons. I’d saved the brunt of my attack for the archer with the golden bow. He simply plummeted to the earth, his heart no longer beating. Terror could kill.
With swords raised, our fae slammed into the dwindling aerial attackers. Blood rained down the battlefield. Our warriors roared and cheered as the remaining Seelie flitted away.
“The siege towers!” Borvo roared to his men. “Stop the siege towers!”
My gaze flicked to the siege towers. The Seelie had used the cover of the sun to shift them closer, and they’d nearly reached us. As soon as they touched our walls they would open, and the Seelie horde would pour out of them. The fortress would be breached.
Ladders clattered against stone as the Seelie army reached our walls. Borvo barked an order, and our warriors tipped the steaming cauldrons onto the climbing Seelie. I clamped my eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds of the screams.
A loud rapport cracked the air as one of the siege towers reached us, and opened. When I saw the Seelie warriors pressed together, fully armored, it was time for a little more dread.
I homed in on the warrior whose armor glowed with a blue light—probably magic, probably from Balor’s armory. A sword carved toward his chest, bouncing off harmlessly. He was protected.
But not from me. Fear me, mortal.
I tuned in to his fear of death as the warriors moved around me in slow motion, swords glinting red in the rising sun. I pulled his terror into my chest, building it into a deafening climax. I shot it back at him, driving him mad with terror. In his mind, he’d died already. He didn’t exist. Wild with terror, he ran for the parapet, clamoring over the edge.
Just as I was watching his descent, a Seelie lunged for me. I stumbled back away from his axe. My shield man stepped forward, decapitating him with a single swipe.
“Thanks,” I shouted.
He ignored me, hacking into another Seelie warrior.
More siege towers reached the wall, and a battle ram began hammering against our gate, shaking the fortress. When the closest siege tower opened, I unleashed another terror attack, incapacitating the warriors before they got a chance to step out. They all froze, blocking their comrades’ path, and our Unseelie soldiers used this moment of chaos to charge at them, turning the mouth of the tower to a bloodbath.
Roan was charging into one of the siege towers, antlers gleaming. Alvin fought by his side, holding a blade nearly as large as himself.
Even with the dread, even with the Taranis onslaught, the Seelie began to pour into our towers. I filled myself with their fear, feeling it vibrate around my ribs, the deep bass of death fears.
I am the Mistress of Dread, and the power of the First flows through me.
Then I hurled a wave of dread at them, trying to focus it only on the Seelie. The angelic creatures faltered, long enough for our men to gain the upper hand. I fell to my knees panting hard as a wave of dizziness hit me.
“Are you all right?” my shield man asked.
I nodded curtly. Apparently, even with the magic of the First, I had to reserve my power for critical moments. Unfortunately, those moments were coming hard and fast.
Scanning the battlements, my gaze landed on Alvin. He’d been disarmed, bleeding from his ribs. A Seelie loomed over him with an enormous spear. I slammed him with a wave of terror strong enough to stop his heart. He pitched forward in front of Alvin’s wide eyes. Alvin quickly leaped to his feet, snatching the Seelie’s spear.
Loud, constant banging drew my attention. Peering over the fortress’ walls, I caught sight of the warriors battering at the gate, wood splintering around them. Any moment now and they’d be through.
I have to get down there. I glanced at the mirror on my wrist, then leaped through a reflection, slipping out of the conveniently shiny Seelie armor. Embedded in their ranks, I sent a crippling wave of pure terror into them, hitting them again and again until they fell to the earth, trembling.
I am the Goddess of Terror, my mind whispered. I am Death, and you will tremble before me.
I gasped for breath, my chest burning as confusion began to cloud my mind, the First’s voice fading.
I needed human fear to build my strength again. Unluckily for me, I was in the midst of the fae realm, no humans in sight. I stumbled away from the crowd.
A deafening shudder racked the fortress as the gate ruptured in an explosion of metal and fractured wood. The Seelie general, Teyrnon, brandished his sword, which glowed with a red light, smoke curling from its blade. He’d used it to breach the gate—another of Balor’s weapons.
The Seelie horde ran into the breach.
I tried to home in on their terror, but another wave of dizziness washed over me. I tried to focus on the warriors around me, to slow down time, but the vibrations had become muted and dulled.
I stared in disbelief as I saw the remnants of the Seelie army hurrying to the breach. They’d only needed one hole in our defenses.
Then the air began to crackle, clouds overtaking the morning sky. They rolled in, churning like a boiling cauldron.
I should have recognized the signs even before it started: the wind gusting around me. The drops of rain. The rumble of thunder, and the greenish hue in the sky. A loud roar rumbled over the horizon, and through our bond, I could hear Roan calling me back to the tower. He wanted me behind the parapets, guarded by my shield man once more.
I looked into my mirrored bracelet, melding with it, then leaped back to the towers. I landed between Borvo and my shield man. While I’d been on the ground, they’d managed to repel the Seelie from the siege towers. But the damage had been done below.
A frigid wind whipped over us as hail began to rain from the sky. I turned to Borvo, shivering, eyes wide.
I could no longer dull my fears, and my concern for Roan roared in my mind like the wind. “Where’s Roan?” I screamed.
Borvo simply pointed at the ground. I’d been so dizzy, so confused, that I hadn’t even noticed Roan there. Of course he was—right in front of the Unseelie forces hurrying to put a stop to the Seelie breach.
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I watched as he rushed at the host of Seelie, a group of Unseelie behind him. In the heat of battle, he’d unveiled fully, and the wind whipped at his pale hair. If it weren’t for the horns, I’d have a hard time telling him apart from the Seelie.
Roan’s sword met Teyrnon’s. As it did, lightning cracked the sky, forking down onto the battlefield. At least a dozen warriors fell to the ground, and the scent of burning flesh curled into the air. Roan swung his sword again—this time connecting with Teyrnon’s neck. The general’s headless body crumpled to the ground, and his red sword hissed in the hailstorm.
Lightning speared the sky, striking the Seelie army. Another bolt struck the towers, and I felt the jolt of electricity, flinging me back.
I could hear his voice in my mind. A storm doesn’t protect. A storm can’t be controlled.
Through our bond, I could feel him coaxing me back into the safety of the tower, urging me to run and hide, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him.
He was leading a charge into their ranks, his sword sparking in the flashes of lightning. And on the horizon, dark clouds whirled and roared in a funnel of debris. My mouth went dry. I’d never seen a cyclone before, never imagined its godlike enormity. Somehow, Roan had summoned a tornado, right here in Trinovantum, and the sight made my teeth chatter with fear.
Chapter 35
“Everyone get inside!” I could hardly hear Borvo’s voice over the deafening boom of wind. Hail was hammering my head, my shoulders, the chunks larger now. A large, icy ball smacked my forehead. When I touched my hand to my face, it came away sticky with blood.
“Cass!” Alvin was shaking my arm. “We have to get inside the fort! The tornado is coming this way!”
But… wasn’t the fortress full of Seelie, now?
Scores of dead Seelie bodies littered the base of the fortress. The siege towers were burning to stumps among them. Blood, arrows, and the broken bodies of the Seelie lay strewn over the dirt.