The Unforgiven

by A. Katie Rose

  Dropping her blackened sword, Enya ran toward Iyumi. Buck-Eye tried to put his body between her and the approaching Witch, but he didn’t stand an icicle’s chance in hell’s fires. She sent him flying against the wall as easily as she’d throw a straw doll. Likewise, Torass and Lyall were hurtled into unyielding stone. Iyumi tried to run, sheltering the screaming baby with her body. Dra’agor, snarling like a demented demon, planted himself squarely in Enya’s path.

  Thunder crashed as the ferocious wind rocked the tower in gentle yet alarming sways. Through my frantic attempts to get up and shoot another flaming arrow into her back, I heard heavy pounding. The roof is caving in, I thought with morbid humor. Let’s bury her alive.

  Enya faltered in her pursuit, skidding to a halt. The small door that led to the balcony where Kings of old stood to signal their allies shattered like a stick house. What the – Those heavy doors, layered three thick and reinforced with iron had repulsed an attacking force time and again. So what could bring them down now? When the figure draped in shadow stepped through the flying splinters, I choked on my shock and grinned in the same instant. I’ll be damned –

  Van didn’t hesitate. Armed with a sword that burned red, he attacked Enya with blade and more power than I could ever hope to have. Cloaked from throat to heel in black, his shaggy hair blew back from his face as he grimaced in effort and fury. His body between the Witch and his beloved, Van slashed and stabbed, driving Enya ever backward. His boots struck sparks from the slate floor as a strange, pale gold nimbus swirled over his dark head.

  Taken quite by surprise, Enya defended herself by lobbing balls of living flame. Almost contemptuous, Van sent every one wide with sweeps of his deadly blade. As though coated in ice, his blazing sword killed her fire and sent smoking husks to strike the stone walls of the tower. He advanced with every snap, his emerald eyes slitted. His face a mask of cold fury and concentration, he drove her ever backward.

  Enya gave ground, scrambling away from both his menace and Van’s vast magic. Desperate fear snaked across her marble features, her reddish lips parted as she panted in both exhaustion and panic. As fireball after fireball struck his blade and bounded, harmless across the slate floor, her demeanor altered from its previous arrogance and imitated the same expression a rabbit might have when trapped in the hunter’s snare. And listened as the hunter approached.

  Snarling in an eerie imitation of Dra’agor, Enya changed tactics. Exploding like a crystal, she sent deadly shards of herself arrowing straight into Van’s face and neck. I winced, staggering to my feet, my shoulder busted and my breath short. Surely she had him on that one. But Van wasn’t a Shifter for nothing. His body dropped instantly, pooling like a raindrop on tile, spreading. Her deadly razor shards fled harmlessly past him, struck the stone wall, and rebounded with a whistling noise. Faster than I could see, she reformed herself behind him.

  Like a puppet, Van bounced back up, his vulnerable back exposed to attack. Enya pounced. Her mouth wide open, her teeth gleaming redly under the light of the fire, she rushed his undefended rear. Black evil shrouded her, her fists pumping with every step forward as she hurled a swath of death at Van. I knew she’d hit him with it. I knew he didn’t know what she planned. She charged toward him, hands hooked into claws and raising them to slam his ass into the next world –

  – and stumbled, and nearly fell headlong to the floor.

  Van wasn’t there.

  Awkwardly trying to regain her balance, Enya’s arms pin-wheeled, helpless. That’s when the small falcon screamed. It’s voice echoed throughout the chamber, drowning beneath it the howling wing and booming thunder. Through the glass, the moon had almost come full circle. A small fraction of the sun still gleamed amid the dark clouds and stabbing lightning.

  Straight into her face Van flew, talons wide. This time, it was Enya who screamed – in agony, in terror. Van’s razor-tipped talons ripped her pale skin into shreds, cut her once beautiful blue eyes, and slashed that devil’s mouth to ribbons. Blood poured out from under Van’s flapping wings. Oh, hell, yes, I thought. A blind Bitch is a helpless Bitch.

  Reality sucked rocks, in truth. Van’s awesome power couldn’t defend against the hands that gripped his small falcon and tear his claws from her face. He might have power that outstripped hers, but he was yet vulnerable to the simpler problems of life. Such as tight fingers gripping a tiny feathered body hard enough to split asunder his spine, his ribs, his wings and his life.

  Oh, crap, I thought. There goes our best bet in keeping our lands safe from a hellcat. You tried though, Vanyar my lad. That’s your epitaph: ‘I tried.’

  Shrieking like a young girl upon finding a fat black spider on her gown, Enya threw the bird into the blazing hearth. Still screaming, she lunged, half-blind and blood pouring from her lacerated face, toward Iyumi. She’ll get that child onto her altar, she still had time, I was too far away, injured, and Van – Van was dead.

  A fierce, snarling shadow, Dra’agor launched himself at Enya, clearly aiming to bring her down. For a wild moment, I thought he might actually succeed where Van and I failed. His jaws gaping, his ears flattened, he rose on his hind legs, lunging for her throat.

  Enya swatted him like an annoying insect. Her backhanded swing caught him across his heavy neck with all her evil might behind the blow. Dra’agor’s head snapped sideways, and his body followed. Tossed like a rag doll, he slid across the bloody floor as though on grease to land in a heap by the window. Unconscious or dead, I’d no idea, but he didn’t move.

  Her teeth dripping gore as she grinned, Enya in turn pounced on Iyumi.

  Iyumi tried dodged aside, neatly avoiding those sweeping, bloody hands. Keeping her body between that of the baby and my mother, Iyumi twisted and dodged as she bolted around that north chamber. Enya followed after, shrieking in inarticulate rage, but Iyumi stayed just out of harm’s way. For a few moments, anyhow.

  Enya halted, furious, and realized chasing the slender girl more nimble than she was as useless as dodging raindrops. “Stupid girl,” she hissed, as her power seized Iyumi, held her still.

  Iyumi, and the baby troll, hung a rod off the slate tile floor, helpless. Iyumi watched her advance with ill-concealed panic as Enya swiped blood and gore from her face. Her bloody lips stretched into a thin red line below her pale nose. Her demon’s eyes glowed hotter than last’s night’s sunset. “C’mere, now,” she crooned, laughter bubbling like a cauldron. “I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

  “Stay back,” Iyumi warned, clutching the baby close. “I’m warning you.”

  “Warn this,” Enya chuckled, offering Iyumi that sign.

  The baby cried and squirmed, unhappy with its current situation. Panicked, unable to either run or protect herself and the innocent in her arms, Iyumi watched her come. She recoiled, cringing, her blue eyes blasting the defiance her words could never utter.

  “Got you now, bitch,” my mother snarled, her bloody hands reaching for the bundle of nasty rags.

  Iyumi back-handed Enya with her manacled hands clenched together, her teeth clenched and her once tidy braid unraveled. Iyumi, a strong girl, put everything she had into her fists. Enya’s head snapped back. Hard. With so much blood covering her face, I couldn’t tell if the blow cut yet another gouge in the many cuts from Van’s talons already bleeding there. Despite all, Enya recoiled fast. Her returning strike flattened Iyumi. She released her controlling power at the same instant. The princess, half-stunned, fell onto her back from a rod up, her eyes rolling back into their sockets. Blood splashed across her pale cheeks and wet her silver-gilt hair.

  Enya snatched up the squalling infant with a demonic scream of triumph. She turned toward her smoking and bloody altar. Shit, I thought, struggling to rise, my shoulder on fire. Must stop her. She mustn’t kill that child. In desperation, I concocted a black spear from air and flung it across the tower chamber. It struck Enya dead to rights, vanishing within her blood-splashed gown.

  Though my magic weapon didn’t kill
or stop her, I know it hurt her. As though half-blind, or confused, Enya staggered. If she kept to her present course, she’d miss the altar by a rod. She corrected herself, and stumbled again. Darkness spread up her gown, scurried across her waist and gleefully jumped over her bosom to consume her pale neck and blacken her once gold-washed hair.

  But whose evil would win?

  She struggled to counter the evil power I stole with the black magic she contrived through blood sacrifice. Black versus black. My strength stood equal to hers, nor could she easily throw it back at me without harming herself. My legs shaking under me, I stood, pointing my sword at her. I gathered my will to send black lightning stabbing into her blood-splashed body. Die, you bitch.

  In a tight swarm, a hundred, perhaps a thousand, Faeries blasted into the tower chamber. Through the door Van shattered on his way in, they buzzed like a hive of angry bees. Their voices screaming in high C, sharp enough to shatter crystal, they attacked. They owned no weapons. Like the butterflies they resembled, they had no stingers. What possible harm could they manage? I wondered.

  I didn’t have long to wait. I sagged back against the wall, my busted shoulder forgotten. Stunned, I neglected to send a death-stream of black from my sword’s tip. Similar to a sea wave crashing over a shore-locked boulder, the Faeries surged over Enya. By using the sheer weight of numbers, their tiny bodies covered her, blinding her, hampering her movements. A miniscule voice rose above the buzzing tumult. “For Iyumi and for Bryn’Cairdha!”

  Enya, all but smothered under the invasion, waved her free hand about her head. Though she hit several Faeries with deadly accuracy, no Faery died that I could see. Several bounded off her strike, and blazed back in with renewed fury. My jaw slack, I witnessed the smallest creature on this world drive absolutely mad the greatest witch it had ever known. For their shrieks, buzzing wings and bodies cloaking her like a living, furious mantle drove her blind with insane rage.

  Enya gathered in her strength. Her dark power blew every Faery away from her with a sharp, barking cough. Thunder rattled the tower as white lightning struck its topmost turrets. The broken glass of the great window creaked alarmingly. Past Enya’s torn and bloody head, the moon had all but swallowed up the sick sun. I wasn’t mistaken after all. Twin eyes, pupils elongated like a cat’s, glowered like twin lamps from hell.

  Her Masters were watching. Of that, I had no doubt.

  The Faeries, caught up in the dark maelstrom, exploded in every direction. Many hit the round walls of the tower as hundreds more bounced across the slate tiles. No few hit the great window, and I half-thought it may well shatter under their soft, yet implacable, assault. I hoped they hadn’t been killed, but my attention span fell far short. Using the distraction the Faeries gave me, I seized not my steel but my magic. Deep into the dark caverns of my head, I sought for, and accepted the truth. Iyumi spoke both clearly and accurately when she convinced me to deny the role my life wanted to take. That wasn’t my mother I aimed to kill. It was a demon, and I once loved it beyond my own life.

  I am a coward, I thought. I am weak. I was blind once, but now I see. I killed an innocent for evil and stolen strength. I repent my actions with every breath I take. Whoever you are, grant me the power to slay in the name of good. I am prepared to die. I fear to live.

  Be strong.

  I will be strong. I am strong. I will it shall be so.

  “Come on, bitch,” I grated, stumbling away from the wall’s support. My left arm hung, useless, and I used my sword as a crutch, ready to heave my way to my feet. “We have unfinished business, you and me.”

  Her face in tatters, she peered at me with one working eye. The other had vanished, leaving a bloody hollow where it once had lain. Deep lacerations in her cheeks marred her great beauty forever, should she win this fight. Her tiny nose hung by a mere strip of flesh where Van’s talons had torn it asunder, and her once graceful lips gaped raw fissures. Yet, she smiled. A ferociously happy, triumphant grin as her hooked claws pointed down at me. The troll infant screamed, struggling, as she held it by its slender neck.

  “I’ll forgive your treachery, Flynn,” she rasped. “Come to me, now, on your knees. Beg me, son, and I’ll show you mercy.”

  My upper lip curled. “Your Masters await you, Mother. It’s time you met them, don’t you think?”

  Enya flicked a rapid glance toward the great window and the cat’s eyes still watching. Dra’agor hit her hard and low from behind. His fangs bit deep into the soft flesh behind her knees, cutting tendons and ripping necessary ligaments from bone. Enya screamed as she went down, the troll baby flung from her hands to hit the flagstone, bounce once and roll. At the same instant, a body burst from the hearth fire. Like a bolt of flame, it hit the chamber floor and grew.

  Van’s hand seized me by the collar and lifted me high. “Come on,” he gasped. “We’ve only this one chance. You with me?”

  “Damn straight, brother,” I gasped, my shoulder on fire. “Let’s finish it.”

  Enya recovered swiftly. Her fist seized Dra’agor by his ruff and lifted him as easily as she might lift a chalice of wine. The wolf screamed, snarling, trying to twist and bite the hand that held him. She shook him as a cat shakes a mouse to kill it, and sent him, crashing hard, into the stone wall a mere few inches away. Dra’agor, my friend, slid into a boneless pile of fur and lay still.

  As though guided by one mind, Van and I attacked. Forgetting such paltry things as swords, we combined our powers, uniting them. Together, we created a force of such magnitude that not even Enya and her hellspawn magic could withstand. With invisible cables we bound her tight, crushing her, her arms tightly bound to her sides. She screamed and cursed, her devil-red eyes condemning us as she struggled. She almost got away, once. Van growled under his breath, and tackled her, bringing her down under his greater weight. Though she snapped at his hands with her teeth, he never flinched, or relented.

  With hands as well as power, Van pinned her down, his black hair falling across his eyes. “Flynn,” he gasped. “The window. Quick.”

  I understood. Without leaving his side, or lifting my power from her, I raised my head. A quick flick of my will sent the bloody altar crashing through the heavy glass that had stood unbroken and pristine for centuries. In a shower of glass and sparks, the altar tumbled out of sight, into the teeth of the raging storm. High winds hurled into the chamber, sending dust flying. Thunder growled, closer now, as lightning flashed in my eyes.

  “She’s caught.”

  Van’s eyes found mine, telling me more than his words. Bound within our combined power, Enya was helpless, yet alive. I knew what he wanted to do. What he wanted me to do. It would end this sacrilege forever. His green glance under his fall of oily black hair asked me ‘Are you ready? Can you do this?’

  “Yes.”

  My single word answered everything. I gritted my teeth, my heart determined. As I gazed at her torn and bleeding face, the beauty I once adored glimmered amid the gore, the missing eye. That face softened, and I saw again the mother who kissed me, called me her ‘wild child’, and tousled my hair, laughing. Her voice still pierced me with the same loving, affectionate tones she always used when she spoke to me. “Flynn? I love you, Flynn. Don’t do this, I beg you. I did all this for you, my son.”

  I hesitated. Though coated in deep scores and blood, her one remaining blue eye, not red, blue, peeped through the gore. The eyes I worshipped. The love I had for her rose –

  “Mother?”

  “Flynn, my darling –”

  “Flynn?” Van’s urgent voice cut through the haze her voice brought. “Now or never, bro.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Flynn!”

  Iyumi’s shrill voice spoke from just behind me. “She’s using her powers on you. Don’t heed her. Remember, Flynn, she killed Fainche and Sofia. She murdered your son!”

  Like a bucket of ice dumped over my head, her spell vanished. The Witch remained, sneering, and all that remained of the mother I adored wa
s dead and gone. I remembered the small sad sack of red with the tiny hand poking through. I shut my eyes against the memory of Fainche, of my Sofia, lying in pools of drying blood. Why did Iyumi have to remind me? I needed no reminder that this – thing – killed everything I ever loved.

  My voice choked. “Die for your sins, bitch.”

  My power, combined with Van’s, lifted her. As one mind, we staggered closer to the window, intending to toss her out. Like a captured tigress, she fought. As though in her desperation, she gained new strength, new power. Or, my mind skittered under the notion, her Masters gave her that renewed strength. Perhaps they betted on her, needed her to survive and slay the child in the next few moments. Either way, our tight bands about her body loosened. Van flung me a swift frantic glance before hurling more magic into the force we seized her in. I did the same, sweat stinging my eyes, my shoulder on fire. I poured all my stolen magic into a gigantic flow –

  – and slipped.

  Unbelievably, she wriggled free from the binding chains of our combined magic. We fell back from her, our feet sliding on the blood-wet slate of the floor. In less than a heartbeat, she’d have regained all her power, and that of her friends, then toss both Van and I out the window. Gods, I tried to cry. You can’t let her – Her bloody mouth opened in a scream of triumph –

  Dra’agor’s heavy body struck her from the side. Her triumph changed to panic as his weight carried both of them through the broken window and into the teeth of the storm. Her wailing scream died under the crash of thunder. It fell, diminished by distance, until it vanished.

  “Dra’agor!” I yelled, lunging after him.

  Van’s arms around my knees hit me low and hard, bringing me down with my chin smacking the stone floor. Breathless from the agony of my shoulder, my ribs and the tearing grief of yet another loss, I stared over the lip of the balcony. Bitter tears and the black clouds prevented me from seeing anything at all. Dra’agor. Noble friend. I bent my head until my brow struck the cold floor, all my will gone, vanished, with him.