Blue Ridge: Vol. 3 - Escape

by Sophia Gray

  Derrick yelled behind for Garth to be brought forward. He sauntered through the crowd and approached Keelan.

  “Garth, all of your people from one degree or another have a special vocal gift.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yours is exceptional, I hear.”

  “It is, sir.”

  “Can you project it onto one individual, even if many are present?”

  Garth frowned and looked at the ground. “I’ve never tried, but I know it can be done.”

  “Please try now.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.” Kheelan looked at an archer several paces ahead and yelled for him to stand still. The poor Fae looked utterly confused and uneasy.

  “Father,” Julia said moving her mount closer to his, so she could speak quietly. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “It may be the only thing we have against a dark mage.” He turned his attention back to Garth, and nodded. Garth’s reddish hair caught a sliver of sunlight as he turned his head towards the archer. His eyes bore into him and Foster could see Garth exhale slowly through his parted lips. His form visibly relaxed and he began to sing the most terrible and beautiful song Foster had ever heard. The Nephilim didn’t seem bothered, but everyone else looked uncomfortable. Foster looked at the archer and saw him drop his bow. He smacked his hands to his ears and fell hard to his knees. He was shaking all over, and a small trickle of blood fell from his nose.

  “Please, make it stop!” he screamed.

  Kheelan reached a hand out and touched Garth. His posture stiffened and he stopped singing. The archer began rocking back and forth holding his stomach. No one made a sound for several seconds, and all that could be heard was the pitiful crying of the Fae archer. Finally another archer sat beside him and asked, “What did it sound like?”

  The archer raised his tear-streaked face. “Like madness!”

  Kheelan looked at Julia and smiled slightly. “We have the solution for a dark mage.”

  “Unless, they can counter it.”

  Derrick turned to his wife and smiled wickedly. “Nothing can counter the demon song.”

  *****

  They continued their slow but steady move through the forest heading in a north east direction. Kheelan had them spread out slightly and move in an arc, to ensure they would see something unexpected coming. When they were within a quarter mile of the market area, the lead scout put up his arm with closed fist to indicate they were to halt. Several others mimicked the motion to stop the entire crowd almost at once.

  A scout came stealthily back to Kheelan and whispered in his ear. “They are still in the market area, but the market has been cleared out.”

  “What is she doing?”

  The scout shrugged. “It would appear waiting, sir.”

  Kheelan consulted with Derrick and several others. They all agreed to move forward.

  Archers nocked their bows and ran ahead, their deerskin shoes silently spiriting them behind various trees for shelter. When Kheelan and those nearest to him first stepped into the open area, they were shocked by the waiting army. It was smaller than expected, which was a blessing Foster said a silent prayer of thanks for, but it was the manner of them that was shocking. The Queen had chosen the center of the large area to position herself. She was astride one of the largest warhorses Foster had ever seen. It stood at least twenty hands high, and stared at the approaching army with steady eyes. A shaggy dark mane covered one eye and Foster could see long shaggy black hair over its hooves. It was an impressive animal. The Queen wore a smug smile and fighting leathers. It was obvious she was not here just to direct, or standby as a witness. Foster shuddered when he saw the minotaur at her side.

  “Where is the girl?” Lily’s voice moved over them; strong and dripping with malice.

  “She is none of your concern, Lily. What you had planned for her was an abomination!”

  The Queen smirked and moved her horse forward several feet. The minotaur followed. Foster scanned the group looking for the dark mage, but he could have been any one of them. It would be hard for Garth to target him.

  “She killed my son, Kheelan, I now have a whole new reason for her blood.” She looked at Derrick and Julia and grinned. “I also have a whole new reason for their blood as well.” She said pointing a long finger at them.

  Derrick bristled but said nothing as Julia reached over and touched his arm.

  “We can end this now, Lily. Disband and leave the throne. You have known for over twenty years that it was based on a lie.”

  Lily lifted her shoulders lightly. “Who cares about the how and the whys? I am Queen, and I will remain that way.” She turned in her saddle letting out a shrill whistle. Movement erupted as an arrow moved past Kheelan’s head, missing him by a mere inch. Foster imitated the movements of those around him and drew his sword. He let out a war cry and moved forward at a run. Both sides slammed into each other just like battle scenes he had seen in movies. It was exhilarating and frightening. Metal sang through the air and voices were raised in a feverous pitch. Foster cut down a member of the Queen’s guard as he ran toward Foster with a broad sword held over his head poised to strike. Foster lunged forward and heard the first sickening sound of his sword entering the Sidhe’s chest. He was surprised that it took more effort to pull it out than it did to push it in.

  Nadia popped into his mind. He saw a flash of her smiling face, and cut across the front legs of a horse. He saw a flash of her crying in his arms, and pulled the rider from the saddle of the felled horse and ran his sword through the man’s neck.

  Foster caught a glimpse of his father and almost stood in awe watching him. He had never seen anyone move that gracefully while playing the part of the grim reaper. His father was fast. His movements were fluid and cat like, and he didn’t notice when blood sprayed through the air and rained down on his head and shoulders. Even from that distance, Foster could see that his eyes were completely black and burning. His mother was holding her own with shield and sword as well, wielding both from her horse as if she had always gone to war.

  The fighting continued for at least thirty or forty minutes, before Kheelan could be heard yelling that Lily was falling back. Foster was stepping on an archer he had caught trying to run away, and yanked his sword out of his dying flesh before looking up. What was left of the Queen’s army was in fact trying to retreat, and Lily herself was hunched oddly in her saddle. She was calling out incoherent words that were in a different language. Several of the ones around Foster were trying to figure out what she was saying, when Derrick began running towards Kheelan.

  “She’s speaking one of the demon languages!” He waved his arms and began shouting in the language of his people that Foster rarely ever heard. The Queen recognized it and her head snapped up. It was the same language Derrick had used in the throne room when he had fought off guards and set it on fire. Other Nephilim began running forward too. Foster’s mind swirled and he realized that Queen Lily of the race Sidhe was in fact not Sidhe at all, but rather in part or in whole, Nephilim.

  A man stepped from behind Lily’s horse and raised his hands upward with palms open, in what appeared to be a sign of surrender. He grinned and brought his hands back down quickly with palms facing the ground.

  “The mage!” Julia shouted. Her voice was drowned out by those around her, and she began shouting again. “Garth! The mage!”

  A shock wave went over the ground and began knocking people from their feet. The ground moved like a wave in the ocean; up and then back down, slamming the moved earth back down. The mage lifted his hands with his palms facing each other and quickly brought them back down at his sides with the palms once again facing the ground. Almost instantly, jagged rock from the earth began ripping through the ground. Foster watched in horror as a Nephilim with reddish hair was lifted by one of the jagged rock high into the air, before falling to his death. Foster saw his broken body lay on the ground with his limbs sticking out in odd angles.

&
nbsp; “Garth!” Foster screamed and began running forward. He slid to a stop on his knees and began pulling at Garth’s clothes, but he knew it was too late as soon as Garth’s head rolled to the side and his vacant eyes stared up at him. Foster looked frantically around and saw that the fighting was resumed, and the mage was forming the shape of a ball with his empty hands. He let the imaginary ball go and fire soared through the air; landing in the trees, setting them ablaze.

  The Queen’s minotaur faced three Nephilim, but he was no match for them. Foster grimaced as the minotaur fell face first, and two of the Nephilim each threw one of his arms over their shoulders like so much garbage. Foster narrowed his eyes and saw the Queen shrug in her hunched position. She too had watched the Minotaur die. She and the mage were laughing as he raised his hands once more. Everyone was fighting. Something had to be done. Foster closed his eyes for a moment, and saw the board slam into Nadia’s head. He saw her gray skin, and still features. He saw red.

  Foster began running. He ran faster than he ever thought possible. No one seemed to notice him as he jumped over dead bodies and dodged stone sticking out of the ground, until he was within several yards of the Queen and her dirty little mage.

  Foster concentrated on them both. He imagined the flame in his mind. He saw it get bigger. He imagined the ground burning at their feet, up their legs, and finally melting them entirely. Then he opened his mouth and sang.

  *****

  Nadia’s unconscious mind drifted from dreamless sleep into the forests of the Realm. She saw the impossible beauty of that place and could hear a terrifyingly beautiful voice carried on the warm breeze. The song was of sorrow and all things beautiful. The song spoke of ancient things that belonged to the foundations of the earth. It was madness in an ancient tongue. Foster.

  *****

  Foster’s body began to convulse and shudder from the pain of extreme concentration. It took everything within him and beyond to push the necessary energy to them. At first his song was a jumble of words that tumbled out of his subconscious before becoming a pattern of lilt and harshness. He could sense some of the Sidhe and Fae falling to their knees that were near the Queen. Foster kept his eyes on her and watched rage and then confusion blossom on her contorted face. The mage was no better, actually he was worse off. As Foster took his voice to a higher pitch the mage fell into a ball and screamed. His screams stopped all the fighting and everyone watched. Some looked with unsure eyes at the Queen and waited for her command. When they slid their eyes back to Foster, they would immediately remove them, unable to look at him and hear him at the same time. The Queen began to twitch and was having trouble holding her balance. Even her mighty warhorse snorted and whined, beginning to dance sideways.

  Foster sensed someone standing beside him and heard a song similar to his own issue from the lips of his father. Nadia’s face flashed through his mind over and over again. He could taste her mouth on his tongue. The Queen became the only person on the field, and Foster drew his sword walking slowly towards her. She shook her head violently from side to side as he approached and Foster watched a stream of blood begin to flow from her nose and one ear. By the time he got to her, the mage was completely incapacitated, and lay still on the ground.

  “No.” she mumbled. “I’m the Queen.” Her slurred words fell from her lips, and amounted to nothing. Foster didn’t stop signing until he reached up and yanked her from the horse. She attempted to raise her arms and hands to shield her face and head. “I’m the Queen.” She repeated.

  Foster looked down at her and stepped on her sternum. “Not anymore.” He said, and took her head off with one fast movement from the edge of his sword.

  *****

  An hour later bodies were being dragged to one of the grassy areas and lined in rows for family to come and claim them. Foster’s exhausted eyes scanned the ones that were left alive from Lily’s army and was glad to see that most were bowing before Kheelan and mumbling their allegiance. King Kheelan. Foster thought and a small smile played on his cracked lips.

  “Here, Foster, drink more of this.” Julia placed the open jar near his lips and he sipped. A squat little Fae with graying hair stood nearby and asked his mother if she needed anything else. Julia thanked here and told her no.

  “All of those stories were true about you being a Princess. I guess you are again.” Foster said.

  Julia blushed and nodded. “I guess so.”

  “I need to go home.”

  “Yes, we will travel home tomorrow.”

  “No!” Foster said standing. “I will go right now.”

  “Foster you have just….” Julia stopped speaking as Derrick limped to her side. “This boy is now a man, and he chooses when he goes home.” Julia pursed her lips, but nodded instead of replying.

  Derrick looked at his son with pride. Foster had never seen his father look at him that way. “Go home, to your chosen, Foster. We will finish up here.”

  Foster wiped at his grimy face. “I guess this means you have accepted Nadia?”

  Derrick was walking away with an arm thrown over Julia’s shoulder. She was bearing some of his weight so he could walk better. He turned his head and said over his shoulder, “If she lives, you have my complete blessing.”

  Foster grinned and grabbed the reigns of the nearest horse.

  *****

  Nadia’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked several times to clear her blurry vision and saw Diana’s smiling face come into focus.

  “Ah, Nadia, you gave us a scare.” She said quietly.

  Nadia swallowed and tried to find her voice. “Foster?” she croaked. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

  “Shhh, I’m sure he will be back soon.” Diana lifted her head slightly and placed a glass against her lips. “Try to drink a little of this.”

  Nadia took a sip and winced at the bitter taste. Once she had swallowed her throat felt a little better.

  “I’m glad you finally were able to give her that healing tonic, Diana.” Zuzana said in an amused voice. “You have worked on that concoction for hours.”

  Diana placed the glass back on Nadia’s lips, and she gratefully swallowed more.

  “Honey is the key ingredient,” Diana said proudly. “And the Saint John’s Wart, of course.”

  Zuzana leaned over Nadia. Her silver hair was pulled back in a braid, and Nadia realized just how beautiful she really was. Julia looked a lot like her.

  “Foster?”

  Zuzana’s eyes darkened but her smile never faltered. “We don’t know anything yet, dear.” She patted her arm and tried bring the sparkle back into her eyes. “I’m sure they will return soon.” She checked the bandages on Nadia’s head. “How do you feel?”

  “It hurts, and I feel a little sick.” In truth she felt like her head was in a vice and she was riding a sinking ship.

  Zuzana nodded. “It’s a concussion. You will suffer those symptoms for a few days, but you should feel a little better tomorrow. You have a few stitches and there will be swelling, but if we keep applying the ice it should be fine.”

  “Did Foster kill Dain?”

  “No.” Zuzana said, and this time she didn’t try to hide her dismay. “No, he didn’t. But I fear their relationship will not recover this.”

  “It was my fault.”

  “No, child, it wasn’t. It was just an unfortunate accident.”

  Nadia nodded and could feel her eyelids fluttering. The last thing she heard before falling back to sleep were the voices of the two women, and Diana saying that Dain may never come back.

  *****

  When Nadia woke again it was nearly dark. She turned her head and looked for the other two women but the room seemed empty. She tried to sit up but white-hot pain ran through her head and she had no choice but to lie her head back down. She looked at the ceiling and it seemed to be tilting. Waves of nausea were threatening her stomach, and she was sure she was hearing things. She heard a horse galloping. Why would I hear one horse and not all the horses? She
thought to herself, and covered her eyes with one of her hands. Heavy footsteps ran up the porch steps just before the front door banged open. Nadia saw Foster enter the room with muddy and blood stained clothes. His disheveled hair was sweaty and filthy, but he was absolutely stunning to her.

  “Foster!” she whispered.

  He took two long strides to her side and kissed her gently. Tears of gratitude for her life flooded his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. “I thought I had lost you.” He smiled ruefully. “Again.”

  Nadia tried to laugh but it hurt too badly and she grimaced instead.

  “Do you want to lie in my bed?”

  Nadia nodded, and Foster was about to pick her up, when Zuzana’s voice came out of the darkness.

  “Foster!”

  “Hello, Grandmother.” Foster hugged her hard, and she pulled back looking him up and down. “You haven’t been gone very long. I thought it would be at least a day.” Her face became worried. “How is the battle?”