Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  “Aye. We do nah like it, but we’re aware,” an anonymous faol shouted.

  “And all of us are of the same mind in tha, my friend,” Ciaran assured. “But it seems tha li’l Skye has come along to rid us the need to keep the gloves on. As there are those of ya here who’ve nah been granted the details of our origins, I have to be mindful of how I phrase this.”

  “Then perhaps another should be doing the talking, loose as your lips are,” Drostan taunted and the others laughed.

  “As much as I’ve missed joking around with ya, brother, I’m afraid we’re a bit pressed for time,” Ciaran replied somberly.

  At the sight of him acting so uncharacteristically serious, the crowd silenced.

  “Skye’s presence here was set to shatter the truce come tomorrow eve,” he continued. “We were to hold a Gathering in the sacred forest to make it official. Unfortunately, the fògaraich are looking to strike before tha. As our law states, we are nah permitted to draw first blood against them. We may only fight them in defense of our clansmen and our land. They’ve already given us not one, but both those reasons to fight. First they crossed our borders, and now they’re after Skye. Just about 8 kilometers to the south of us, a swarm of the fògaraich are set upon this road. They number in the thousands.”

  Surprised murmurs rippled through the crowd, as well several cries for them to hurry along and start the battle.

  Ciaran held up a hand, waiting for them to settle down.

  “And... I believe they may well have Skye and Miko trapped there,” he offered.

  The mood of the crowd shifted to grave concern.

  “I do nah know why, but as far as I can tell, they’ve nah been able to reach them yet. As for how long tha grace of the good spirits will last, it’s anyone’s guess. All I know is we need to get to them first, but we can nah just go charging in without a plan. For those of ya tha fought beside me in the first war, I say this now as Taran is stuck at home and nah here to give us his call: Bithibh air mhire-chatha!” He shouted, rising his fist in the air.

  The ancients went wild, shouting and cheering in response.

  “It does feel a bit wrong to be marching into battle without tha man’s perfectly sculpted arse leading the way,” Eògan joked quietly in an effort to ease the tension.

  “For those of ya tha were nah with us in the beginning, and have nah fought the fògaraich since ya were mortal,” Ciaran continued, “this is your baptism by fire. Time to do what ya were made to do. Rest assured, though – this will nah be as easy as ya are likely imagining it will be.”

  “Ya mean... ?” Drostan asked as his face fell in understanding.

  “There are ancients in the mix,” Ciaran finished, confirming his fears. “Those of ya tha have never encountered one, be warned – they’re as strong as any of us... and they’ve the gift of flight.”

  Troubled whispers rippled through the ranks, followed by reassurances from ancients to the younger members.

  “They’re nah invincible by any means,” Ciaran continued sternly. “We took out a great deal of them in the first war. Thankfully, in their breed, the gifts were watered down, so to speak, with each bite. The ability to fly only passed through the first few generations. Mercifully, the father of their kind is too egomaniacal to go round giving out his ‘sacrament’ to just anyone. Due to this, flying fògaraich are in short supply.

  “Since I know there are those among ya tha have nah been given the chance to complete your training, I’ll give ya a few pointers. As frightful as the notion of a flying fògarach might seem, it does nah spell a sure defeat for us. We just need to fight smarter, is all – utilize the instincts our wolves give us. As is our natural inclination in dangerous situations, we must travel in packs tonight of no less than three. Their ancients rely heavily upon picking off stragglers. Trust me, ya do nah want to be one of them. They favor carrying their prey well above our reach to feed upon. It’s nah a pleasant way to die, I assure ya.” He paused for a moment, his jaw clenching as he recalled those of his brothers that had met such an end in the beginning. Taking a steadying breath, he went on. “It is when they encounter us whilst we are together tha they lose their advantage. If one gets a hold of a member of your group, grab onto it before it gets too far off the ground. They can nah sustain flight whilst carrying the weight of more than one of us. If ya get one in your grasp, keep on it. Alternate attacks amongst your group members. This will allow each of ya time to heal between blows and prevent them from flying away. Go for their wings – once ya rip them apart, they take days to regenerate. While they’re grounded, they’re far easier to kill. Other than the flying business, the same basic rules of weaknesses apply for their ancients as with all the fògaraich.”

  He held up his hand, ticking off a finger with each rule.

  “They can nah regenerate from a decapitation. They are instinctually terrified of fire. They can nah withstand wood – be it to enter the forest or to have it jammed into their hearts. While it’s an instant kill for the younger ones, for the ancients it’s more like kryptonite. It’ll weaken them, but would take too much time to kill them in the heat of battle. If ya do manage to stake one, use his momentary disorientation and suffering to your advantage. Each stake ya drive into him will weaken him just a bit further. With mercy, it’ll be enough for ya to kill him with greater ease.

  “Their attacks involve their two hell-given weapons: talons and fangs. They’ll go for your arteries if ya give them the slightest opportunity and they greatly prefer the thick ones. Tha means mind your necks and thighs, buds. Those areas contain nah only the largest, but also the most vulnerable arteries to bites. Guard them vigilantly. Unfortunately, those are nah the only places the fògaraich can drain ya from. Keep the blood-sucking bastards well away from your wrists and all your joints, else they’ll use ya just like a Capri-Sun pouch. Guard against their bites as if your immortal lives depend upon it because – news flash – they do. If a fògarach manages to drain ya of life completely, it’s the end of ya.

  “On a morbid note, and one I truly pray you’ll nah have need to know: if one of them drains any of us, get ready to attack. Understand tha they feed from mortals because they must steal life in order to sustain themselves. At any given moment, our blood contains more life than they could gain from a thousand mortals. To these bastards, drinking a faol’s blood would be like dropping acid, chewing ecstasy, snorting an eight-ball of coke, and washing it all down with a bottle of Jägermeister.”

  “And he speaks from experience, does he?” Drostan teased quietly.

  “Where the hell’s he been partying?” Eògan muttered behind a hand.

  Ciaran went on as if he did not notice their goading, but flashed them a private smirk. They knew that he was merely making a comparison, but they needed to joke around. It was how they coped. All of them had learned to keep things humorous, especially in the darkest times. It was the only way they stayed sane through so many decades of watching their brothers slaughtered in the beginning.

  “The reason I say for ya to get ready to attack if they drain one of us is because the experience sends their heads reeling,” Ciaran continued. “It is so overwhelming tha it leaves them defenseless for a few moments. While they’re down, it is absolutely imperative tha ya tear them apart quickly. The other fògaraich will come to their brother’s aid once they notice they’re at our mercy. Nah because they care for one another, just because they know what I’m about to tell ya. Ya do nah want to come up against one of their kind on a blood-high. It sends them into frenzy and makes them damned near impossible to defend against.

  “I s’pose tha will have to do for now. Had we more time, I’d ask each of the ancients to train ya as much as possible before the battle. I regret tha we do nah have tha opportunity. Take a moment now to speak with your elders and ancients. Ask any questions ya might have and carry their experience with ya as ya fight. Now, before I go on with my instructions, any among ya tha have nah yet mastered the change, please step f
orward.”

  Elijah turned and gave Drostan a worried look before walking over in front of the SUV that Ciaran was standing atop. Two others joined him.

  “Just the three of ya, yeah?” Ciaran asked, his eyes scanning the crowd for any movement. “All right, Elijah, you’ll be staying with Drostan and another of his choosing. I want an elder paired with each of the other two pups, and an ancient to lead each pair. Who will lead them?”

  “I will,” Eògan offered, stepping up beside them.

  “As will I,” Lorcán called. The usually chatty Irishman was now as calm and quiet as the grave. No one would guess from his ordinarily flighty nature, but Lorcán was a ferocious fighter on the battlefield.

  “Excellent – and I will go with Aodh. Our four groups will split up and search the area for Skye and Miko,” Ciaran began.

  “But you said we all need to travel in groups of no less than three,” Elijah reminded quietly.

  Ciaran gritted his teeth, his eyes scanning the crowd to see if anyone else had heard those words. He was about to send this pup into the thick of a bloody and brutal battle. He really did not want to have to publicly reprimand him before they left. Thankfully, Elijah had spoken softly enough that his words had not carried. Ciaran held up a hand to the crowd, asking them to give him a moment, and hopped down beside Elijah.

  “Look,” he began, draping an arm around the pup’s shoulders and leading him a short distance away. “I understand your concerns for me safety given me relationship to Skye. But I swear, I’d nah recklessly risk never seeing her again. Nah only is she the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, I happen to love her to bits. She’s stolen me heart and I’d do anything to protect her from sorrow or pain.”

  A relieved smile instantly spread across Elijah’s lips.

  At the sight of it, Ciaran smirked and thought, oh yes, this is definitely a big brother type I’m dealing with.

  “Tha’s right, bud,” he continued. “I’m nah just in it for the short term. Skye told ya tha she owns me and she speaks the truth. I have every intention of spending as many centuries as possible wrapped around tha girl’s li’l finger. To ease your mind, just know tha the only reason I’m going with Aodh and no one else is because he and I work so well together. We’re safer with just us two than a pack of six will be in this battle. So please, lest I have to beat ya in front of the others for the sake of keeping up appearances, try to have a bit of faith in me judgment, yeah?”

  “All right,” Elijah sighed, nodding his agreement. “But... do you think we’re... ?” He began, trailing off as his voice broke.

  Ciaran gripped his shoulders and stared into his eyes intensely.

  “We are going to reach her in time, bud. Of tha, ya have me word,” he declared.

  Elijah gave him a weak smile in response.

  “Tha’s a good pup,” he teased with a wink before giving Elijah’s cheek a light slap.

  When he hopped back up onto the SUV, the conversations that had been going on in his absence died out.

  “Okay, as I said, we have four search parties assigned the task of finding Skye and Miko. The rest of ya are to divide in half. Stick to the forest on either side of the road until ya come upon the swarm. Ya will fight – but only as a distraction until we find them, d’ya hear tha? Once we have them safely with us, everyone is to abandon their battles and help us protect them. We’ll need to get back to the castle as quick as we can.”

  “We’re just going to leave the fògaraich out there?” A young faol called out worriedly. “What if a mortal comes upon them?”

  A tell-tale ‘smack!’ echoed through the group, letting Ciaran know that whoever had voiced the question had just earned a slap upside the head from his pack leader.

  “There’ll be time enough to kill them all once we reach the rest of the clan,” Ciaran assured. “Cuz ya had better trust and believe, they’ll be following us home.”

  Taran was nearly limp in Brandubh’s grasp now, his eyes rolling back in his head as he was taken to the instant before death. After what felt like an eternity, the fangs were withdrawn from his throat.

  Brandubh brought his mouth to Taran’s ear and smiled as he whispered, “Your heartbeat is so faint now. Can ya hear it? Mortals ne’er can. They miss the beauty of the sound. Like the sweetest of songs...” he cooed as he pressed his cheek to Taran’s. “It won’t be long now, mutt.”

  After lathing his tongue over the blood trickling down the faol’s neck, he laughed wickedly at the way Taran cringed and growled in response to the sensation. Relaxing his grip, he allowed Taran to crumple to the ground.

  Taran’s breathing was shallow as he fought to open his eyes. The sight that awaited him broke his heart.

  Ailean was still at the barrier, still fighting with every bit of his strength to get through, still shrieking and struggling in vain.

  Taran winced and closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the desperation and fear in his brother’s features.

  A groan escaped him when Brandubh kicked him in the ribs with bone-snapping force, sending him skidding across the ground several feet. By the time he came to a halt, Brandubh was on him, rolling him over onto his back.

  “So, what was it aboot ya tha she loved, I wonder?” Brandubh asked as he perched atop Taran. He tucked his wings behind his back, studying the faol’s features as he faded in and out of consciousness. Gripping Taran’s chin, he whispered resentfully, “Was it your handsome face?” He slashed open his cheeks, smiling when Taran’s eyes snapped open in response to the pain.

  Hatred burned brightly in his gaze as he stared up at him, too close to death now to defend himself.

  “Or was it this masculine form tha her eyes found so pleasing?” He asked curiously before raking his claws across the flesh of his chest and down his stomach. He grinned when Taran’s body writhed beneath him and snatched a handful of his hair. Lifting Taran’s face closer to his own, he whispered, “No matter. She has no doubt worked her inherent lust for mutts out of her system. I s’pose I should thank ya for tha. Before ya go then, a gift. To show my gratitude, I will tell ya what is to come for your beloved.” He ran a hand over Taran’s bleeding stomach. “When ya have drawn your last breath, I shall leave here and find her other lover. I shall drain him of life, as well. And d’ya know what? After tha, I will nah need to do a thing to find her. All I shall have to do is remain in one place. Her temper will bring her to me. She will seek vengeance for ya two pitiful mutts. Ya know the truth of tha.”

  Taran gasped, crying out as talons were plunged into his stomach.

  Brandubh moaned at the sound of his prey’s suffering. His body trembled in delight as he dug in deeper, seeking out vital organs. “But instead of a fight, she will be given pleasure beyond anything either of ya were capable of providing. Why do ya think I left her in the care of my minions for so long?” He asked, watching with interest as Taran coughed up blood. “They were training her for me. They were teaching her every depraved act a man can inflict upon a woman. They were breaking her.”

  A low growl rumbled from Taran’s throat in response. His enraged eyes glared up at Brandubh as he fought for the strength to speak.

  Brandubh smiled triumphantly at the effect his words were having. “Oh yes, Skye knows better than any other how to please one of my kind now. She has been given ecstasy through anguish. She will long to return to it, beg for me to claim her as my own. She will love me. At my command, she will gladly put an end to your kind once and for all. By this time tomorrow, ya both will be nothing more than forgotten memories to her.”

  Taran snarled at the thought of this thing being anywhere near her. With the last of his strength, he threw Brandubh off of him.

  Caught off guard by the act, Brandubh’s wings spread and flapped wildly. He recovered quickly, landing on his feet just in time to watch Taran standing upright on unsteady legs.

  Even with the crippling pain and weakness he was experiencing, Taran clutched the gaping wounds in his gut, hol
ding them closed as he managed to speak.

  “Hear me well, ya pathetic, loathsome, mistake of a man,” Taran spat.

  Brandubh recoiled from the burning insult as if he had been slapped.

  “Ya are nah even worthy of the time my Skye will spend killing ya,” Taran continued, smiling despite his suffering. “The only pleasure ya will ever give her will be with your screams and pleas for her mercy as she rips ya apart.” He laughed cruelly and shook his head before speaking with teeth bared. “And no, ya will ne’er experience her love.” His features softened as he recalled the sight of her, the scent of her hair, the feeling of her kisses on his skin. A smile spread across his lips and he nodded gratefully. “But I have, and just a few days spent basking in its glory is enough to ensure I die a happy man.”

  Brandubh’s lips trembled enviously at that, but just as he opened his mouth to voice a bitter retort, Taran continued.

  “So do to me what ya like,” Taran urged, releasing his grip on his bleeding stomach and holding his arms out at his sides. “I die knowing what ya ne’er will. Tha my wee Skye loves me, tha she belongs to me, and ya are right, she will come to ya for this. She will come to avenge me – of tha ya can be sure. But mark my words – she will be your undoing.”

  “Pity they were not worth marking,” Brandubh hissed. His voice strained horribly with emotion as he added, “For they were your last.”

  Taran refused to cry out as fangs sank deeply into his chest. He closed his eyes as the life was drained from him. He refused to feel bitter at the hand fate had dealt him. Refused to rage at spending an eternity alone and having the love of his life stolen away from him just days after finding her.

  No regrets now. At least he had known the warmth of her love before the end. He chose to be thankful for the time they had spent together, no matter how brief it had been. She might well be lost to him forever, but she was safe. Ciaran would find her and protect her with his last breath, just as he had sworn to. They would look after one another now, protect one another.