All's Fair (Fair Folk Chronicles Book 4)

by Katherine Perkins

  Once she got back in, she crouched down and urged the wolf into a full run, tearing through the castle hallways at high speed. The big creature proved even more agile than she'd have thought, weaving and dodging past fae in the halls, at least those who didn't leap out of the way of their own accord.

  Inwar had his Fishing Trippers. The whole huge squad, from redcaps to sidhe, had fallen hook, line, and sinker. No, she thought. Less hook, line, and sinker than head over heels. No lies: there was blood, there was a Glorious Cause, and he's a heck of a guy.

  The strictly Seelie troops might have, instead, been deceived, but Inwar was still the General. The strictly Unseelie troops...well, some of them would be in the thick of battle, a difficult place to try to explain. And besides, her father had always said their side of the court shouldn't be pressured with panic, just given an example.

  Inwar was a natural leader. Lani always said Megan was too. She wondered how hard her own inner circle would stick by her if she were horribly wrong. They'd certainly stuck by her when she was wrong to lesser degrees.

  She ended up in her father's room, shutting and locking the door, getting there just ahead of guard patrols trying to figure out what was going on. Megan dismounted, reached to move the small red book, and headed through the bookcase. “You may have been here before,” she told the wolf as she led him towards the downward path below the siege, ducking a little as she did so. She told herself she didn't have time to wonder idly about the watch schedule. “So, yeah, it's a bit of a squeeze-crawl for you, but still a chance to catch your breath. As soon as we're outside,” she whispered as she walked ahead of him, “We're really going to need to run for it as soon as we get out and I can get back on. If we're lucky, maybe no one will notice before we get to the woods."

  She wasn't lucky. Almost as soon as she'd pulled herself back into the saddle, there was a shout. The wolf didn't even need to be given a signal, he just started running for the cover ahead.

  Megan crouched forward and held on, looking back to try to figure out who had sounded the alarm, and how bad it might be. A Fomoire handler was racing along with a leashed beast, more than twice the size of her wolf, vaguely feline in build, but scaled, with about a dozen legs, and a leech-like mouth. There were others pursuing, but she was readily outdistancing the foot-soldiers, and the cavalry were too far back.

  In her head, she could hear Peadar's gravelly voice. 'Die well.' Megan was 18. She could hear General Inwar's ringing voice, 'We belong dead...This world is broken. It needs to end.' She recalled the worries of a few years ago, that a mystic seasonal imbalance might echo through and psychologically sterilize human society. If the world really was drowned in flawed echoes from the start...

  She thought of Brigid's having to invent screaming in grief, of the Gray Lady's true voice, and of her mother and Mrs. Kahale, the different kinds of fear in their eyes when their kids were threatened. If they'd have real peace in another world...

  Then she thought of her father, dancing his life away to buy time for the world—and her.

  Megan saw the Fomoire readying bows. Her singing began immediately. “Thistle, Lavender—”

  In her head, she could hear her father's chocolatey voice. 'Live.'

  She kept the song going. Fog whipped around her as the wolf ran, and arrows fell short. The wolf dodged to one side, then back, noticing the incoming fireballs even before Megan did, dodging as green light flared with each impact.

  The handler, losing ground on them, released the scaled cat-thing, which picked up speed, gaining on them quickly. Megan tried to stay focused on her song, trusting the wolf was going as fast as it could. Cats and dogs, cats and dogs... cats are quick ambushers... dogs can run forever. If we can make it to the woods before we're caught...

  It was a big if. The monster closed, looming over them. A long, sinewy tongue lashed out from the leechlike mouth, whipping at them. Megan shifted in the saddle, trusting her grip, and kicked back. The tongue wrapped around her ankle, and the sudden tension almost pulled her out of the saddle. The grip didn't last long, though, as the thorns punched through the flesh, eliciting a hiss from the monster, its tongue withdrawing as it hesitated for a moment, blood dripping from its maw.

  It was after them again in a second, but that was all the time the wolf needed. He jumped a fallen log, then weaved through dense trees. There was a crashing noise behind her as the larger thing plowed through the areas too small for it. Looking back, Megan could see it, getting all too close when there were open spaces (or trees thin enough to power right through), then losing ground as it had to navigate trickier spaces.

  Further back, she could hear raucous noises of Fomoire cavalry with their monster warhorses, but they didn't even attempt to follow into the trees. More arrows hit trees and the ground around her, but it was clear they were shooting blind.

  After several desperate minutes of near misses and trusting the wolf to handle the navigation, her recollections of the strengths of each predator proved correct. The scaled cat-thing was still running, but it was losing ground. Eventually, she could no longer see it, and a short while after that, didn't hear it, either.

  What she did hear, in the distance, just as a frosted orchard around her was starting to look particularly familiar, was the beat of war drums.

  Chapter 26: This One Time at War Camp

  Motion ahead of her startled her, and Megan almost pitched backwards off the saddle, before she made out Kerr's form, with Ashling sitting on the brownie's shoulder. She stopped the wolf in front of the brownie.

  "We need to get you to the camp, Majesty," Kerr said.

  Megan nodded. "I heard them. Those drums make them sound like they're even closer than they are. It's kind of unsettling."

  "It's not so bad," Ashling said, "At least Bres's bards don't know any Creed."

  Once Megan carefully dismounted, Kerr hid all of them, and Ashling guided them back to a concealed camp not far from the Fremont path. Amidst giving the directions, the pixie scrambled from Kerr's shoulder up to Megan's, flailing and grasping a little at the armor in the process. Kerr turned them visible again before they reached the first guard post. Ashling gave a password to the sentries on duty, an ogre and one of the wolf-riders. The sidhe waved them through.

  “Why didn't you wait to climb until we'd stopped?” Megan asked the pixie.

  “Wanted to make the switch while we were invisible to observers,” Ashling said.

  “Why?” Megan's mind started racing as to what could be gained strategically or mystically.

  “Style points,” the pixie replied.

  Rounding the hill, they came to the camp. They passed more sentries patrolling the area, and then hit the small burial ground, with temporary markers. Nearby lay the bodies of a handful of lightly armored Fomoire scouts, two of them partially shapeshifted into forms more suited for escapes they never made. Past that, a few bandaged but field-ready injuries were being checked over.

  Finally, they reached the central meeting area. Cassia, Jack-In-Irons, Tsonoqua, two tengu, two of the wolf-riders, and Justin stood in a circle. They were talking loudly enough, and with enough tension evident in voices and postures, that they missed the hints of commotion at Megan's approach. She was able to pick up comments about positions, evacuation options, and Cassia and Justin insisting that this was where they'd make their stand, no matter what.

  "That's good to hear," Megan said.

  The group turned to look at her. Justin was the first to react, bowing deep. "My Lady."

  Cassia grinned, "You're late. But glad to have you back aboard."

  Megan had done the Queen thing long enough. She unraveled the armor and dashed up to hug her boyfriend. Then she glanced at the still-amused Cassia. "You’re in good spirits."

  The satyress shrugged. "Why shouldn't I be? Jack owes me ten bucks." She looked at the ogre. "Told you she'd make it."

  Megan responded before the ogre did. "Tell her you'll pay her after the fight, if you're both still al
ive." Normally well outside anything she'd consider funny, but it got the reaction she wanted when Jack and Tsonoqua laughed. No hard feelings and all.

  "Welcome back, Majesty," Jack said.

  "All right, so what's the situation?" Megan asked, listening while she recovered her armor and moved into the circle. As she did, Justin moved from his spot to her side.

  The satyress's grin faded. "Not going to lie to you. It's been rough here. Guerrilla tactics have worked well and all. They've taken losses too. We led them away from the path for a long time, kept them chasing us through difficult terrain and traps, used a ton of illusions. Kerr has been absolutely critical, by the way. I know you guys could have used the help, but, well, most of the other brownies aren't quite so ready to run around with the guerrillas. We've taken losses, but would have taken a lot more without."

  Megan listened, glancing back in the direction she'd seen the markers. "I've heard them on the move. They figured out where the gate is?"

  Cassia nodded. "And they're heading for it. We've got the paths trapped, but it's only a matter of time.

  "All right," Megan said. "What kind of numbers are we looking at?"

  "Far more than we're going to be able to hold in a head-on fight, Majesty," said one of the wolf-riders. "We've bought all the time we could."

  Cassia tensed, but Megan responded first. "I have a few more questions, and then we'll figure out what we are going to do. But we're not going to give up this pathway. If they get into Seattle, we have major problems."

  Tsonoqua and her father's riders frowned, but no one objected. "Next question?" Cassia said.

  "Tell me about their leader. You've been running him around. What do we know?"

  "Bres, Brigid's husband," Cassia said. "One of those epically bad splits, obviously. Also one of those people who fought Gods one-on-one, and it was no guarantee who was going to come out of it on top. No disrespect to Jack, but he's a lot stronger than anyone here, virtually invulnerable to anything we can muster."

  "Bres was basically the first frat boy," Ashling said, from Megan's shoulder.

  "What?" Megan asked, trying to follow the difference in explanation, unsure if this was Ashling being random or attempting to relay important information in her own fashion.

  "You know, epic pretty boy, rich family he assumes will always get him out of trouble, entitlement issues, and really good at dodging math tests," Ashling said.

  "Math tests. Does this have something to do with Lugh, and testing Fomoire bards at spearpoint and all?" Megan asked, hoping she was remembering right.

  "Yeah, but he got out of it."

  "How did he do that?"

  "Mostly bribery."

  "He successfully bribed Lugh? With what?"

  "Agricultural secrets for Lugh's people, the classical equivalent of some Gaulish goddess's phone number, and the first milkshake recipe."

  "Okay, the first two are almost believable."

  "Yeah, the third gets even stranger when you realize that Bres was really, really lactose intolerant."

  "The main point is," Cassia said, "He was powerful enough to virtually enslave some of the Gods for a while. He was never noted for being very clever, but he was still one of the most feared of the Fomoire, right up there with Indech and Balor."

  "So, I'm going to venture to guess that so far, he's been leading from the front?" Megan said.

  "Even with his forces with him, almost half the people we've lost, we've lost to Bres directly. He knows there's not much we can do to him."

  "There might be now, with the spear and the sword both here. Speaking of which, where is it? I'll see what I can come up with in the time we have left. But we'll stop them," she assured everyone. She wasn't sure how yet, but she was confident that with two of the legendary weapons, there had to be a way.

  "Lani is helping to coordinate the work crews," Justin said, gesturing towards the hills in the same direction from which Bres's forces were coming. “She'll want you to see the spear-harness, too.”

  “Okay. One last question, and I'll go to her,” Megan said, turning to the sidhe. She pointed at the wolf she’d ridden into camp. “What's his name?”

  “Least-of-Seven. Wolves have unusual naming traditions.”

  “Least-of-Seven?”

  “Capable little runt. Wouldn't have survived if he weren't a scrapper. That's why your father picked him.”

  “How could he have been the runt? He's huge.”

  “Riocard had that effect on people.”

  “Right. Okay. Need to get going. Thank you all.”

  "I hope you're planning on coming up with that plan quick, Majesty," Jack said, as she'd started away from the circle.

  Megan glanced back, but before she could say anything, Cassia interjected. "Don't worry, Megan. Whatever it is, we're behind you."

  The rest of the council took a break to let tempers cool and prepare individual units, while Justin and Ashling went with Megan to see Lani. As soon as Lani, with a bandaged-winged Count on her shoulder, spotted Megan, she paused in conversation with two dwarves and a knocker and ran right over. Megan retracted the armor again to hug her, being careful of the crow. "Don't tell me that you had money on me making it back too?"

  "Smartass," Lani said. "Just ignore the frowny dwarf over there who has to do my shop clean-up for the next month, though."

  "I think you're kidding," Megan said. "But either way, I'm just happy to see you."

  "It's good to see you too. An Teach Deiridh is still holding?"

  "Yeah. I think the Gray Lady had some plans. It won't keep them there forever, but they're holding so far. Once we defeat Bres, we'll get back."

  "Once we defeat Bres... you make it sound so easy. You have a plan? Or they finally came up with one?"

  Megan shook her head. “Have they been arguing about it for very long?"

  Lani sighed. "Cassia has been holding everything together. The ogres have helped a lot—even when they disagree with her, they're sticking by her because you gave her the assignment. But even just in the time since we got back, there's been a lot of tension."

  Justin nodded his confirmation. "I got the impression it was never easy, and just got trickier the more losses they took."

  "So, what do we have for traps and runes and things?" Megan asked.

  "Here, try this on while I go over it with you," Lani said, offering over the harness, and quick instructions.

  As Megan got back into her armor, and worked the harness into place over it, then got used to drawing the spear from it, then returning it quickly, Lani laid out the map so far, going through the traps that had proven the most effective, moving on to the more magical defenses. "Unfortunately, we have limited dwarves. And anything strong enough to even get Bres's attention requires a lot of deep stone work and time."

  Megan paused, midway through drawing the spear again. "Say that again?" she asked. Lani started with the positioning of the runes. "No, not that part. The part with Bres and runes and stuff."

  "Anything strong enough to stop Bres requires a lot of work and time," Lani said.

  "Right. So, if they were making weaker runes, they could make a lot more of them?"

  "Sure, but I don't see how that applies. We have to deal with Bres."

  "Exactly," Megan said. "Justin, get the war council while I go over this quickly with Lani's crew. We don't have much time."

  Chapter 27: Ex

  Megan's spear arm glowed, and the counter-dirge felt supercharged as she dispelled large portions of the initial magical bombardment. She was glad that Bres's troops had less organized sorcery than the wider Fomoire forces. Those attacks that hit the runed-and-enchanted area dissipated without harm. Once they had, Megan boldly rode her wolf—Seven—forward, flanked by her father's riders, hers now, and raised her spear in a defiant taunt, singing louder.

  The Fomoire, far more numerous than the fae, charged. As usual, they drove their weakest—though no more human slaves—at the front, sweeping for traps. They found
plenty of them on the prepared grounds, hitting the pits and spear-traps. There were no runed traps this time—Megan had needed all possible runecasters and enchanters to enact the riskiest portion of her plan. Still, what there were helped whittle down the numbers, and largely left Bres and his vanguard leading the mad rush. Megan lowered her spear, signaling for the fae to fire, and arrows, spells, and other missiles rained down on the Fomoire's ranks, to limited effect.

  Not far at all from the front ranks of the last defense to the Fremont path, Bres crashed through the magical barriers as if they were little more than a nuisance. His lieutenants also came through with only a little more effort. The ranks behind them, however, were thwarted by the dwarven craftwork and fae enchantments.

  "It worked. He's through!" Megan called, signaling a charge of her own. With the strongest of their casters focusing on trying to keep the runes up as long as possible, the rest of the fae turned their whole focus on Bres and his officers, with the rest of his army left to watch—and hammer at the barrier, slowly wearing down the magical protection.

  Jack-In-Irons kept up with the wolves, helping to lead the charge. The ogre launched a massive section of fallen tree, taking out two of the monster horses and sending their riders flying. "Keep them off of us!" he called to the other ogres, as he turned his attention to Bres. The rest of the ogre contingent obeyed, launching thrown rocks and logs before rushing in to engage the other Fomoire around Bres. They were soon joined by other fae, trying to overwhelm the powerful Fomoire leaders or at least hold their attention away from the central battle.

  Megan remained just back, waiting for her opportunity. If it was true that little they'd done had even scratched Bres, she had to pick her moment with the spear. For the time being, she used it instead to empower her counter-magic, limiting Bres to purely his physical attacks.