A Fair Fight

by Perkins, Katherine

  While Megan was finishing up, Lani and Justin started spreading the word, including recruiting half a glimmer of pixies. They returned to Megan with Lani, who started handing out instructions. Lani may not have been the head engineer, but her father, beaming with pride, made no objection. Protests from the differing groups were also minimal, as people looked a little relieved to have any clear plan in mind.

  "Get someone to make copies, at least one for each building crew,” said the Kahuna. “And see what rope we can get. We need pulleys and strong folk... ogres and trolls. The swimmers will secure the ropes, and we'll start bringing parts of the city up."

  The pixies accepted the drawing as soon as Megan finished labeling it and set out to spread word among the people mentioned.

  After handing it over, Megan looked to Lani again. "What about the menehune? Everyone will be wanting to work and prepare. Still no getting them to sleep."

  "Magic or no magic, I'm still working on an engineering degree. My dad has more experience working with ruins and recycled stone than anyone here. We have twelve hours... eleven now, maybe, to turn a bunch of wet rock and wild fields into a fortification. And clarify the plan with everyone."

  "Plan?” Megan asked. “You really think that some deadfalls, pits, and obstacles will stop the Fomoire?"

  "Not at all. But it will slow them down and make it easier to go the right way," Lani said.

  "Right way?" Justin asked, following along once Lani helped Megan up, then started leading them towards the table.

  "Yeah, this part we need to tell General Inwar. We're calling for reinforcements, sprites and pixies are taking notes to everyone's delegations, and Orlaith and Riocard are bringing a few more people in ... but they can't leave An Teach Deiridh unguarded. We still don't have a lot of troops."

  "That sounds more like a problem than part of a plan," Megan said.

  Justin smiled. "I see where she's going, though. We don't have numbers, but we have some strong fighters—not that strong by Fomoire standards, but enough to stand against them. So the maze isn't to stop the attack: it's to channel the Fomoire forces into our strongest."

  Chapter 34: Joined

  Monsters. Megan had no other word for the first to arrive. She'd seen redcap grins. She'd heard her father extoll the virtues of vice. She'd seen the hounds of the wild hunt up close and had watched Cassia and other fae when they'd joined the hunt. She'd seen faeries go to war, with all their savagery. But the Fomoire were something else, even just their cannon-fodder.

  Ten-foot-tall handlers, armored in black leather and armed with thorned whips, drove unruly ranks forward. The charge was led by beasts and madmen. The former were mostly twisted mockeries, like the one Megan had seen the fishing trippers bring back, meshing features of four or five beasts. Much more humanlike, but no less terrible, were the frenzied warriors running right alongside the creatures.

  Worst of all were the slaves. Most looked like they had once been sidhe, redcaps, or any of a dozen other fae, and quite a few resembled humans—except each was gaunt, with skins stretched over emaciated frames. Black, writhing lines wriggled and lashed under their slightly greyish skins as they moved. Most wore chains, and all were driven forward in a blind panic of the slave-driver's lash. Some were armed, if only with work tools, while others had to rely on their hands or overgrown fingernails.

  As the ranks left the hills, the slave-drivers did their best to urge the slaves into full runs, trying to get them ahead of even the beasts to help sweep for traps, while the beasts and maddened warriors leaped, loped, raced, and crawled towards the fae, eager to be the first to shed blood.

  Had she not seen the previous battle, she wouldn't have looked beyond those first ranks of monstrosities, but she steeled herself against panic and noticed the activity in the hills beyond the rushing hordes.

  While the expendables, whether through bloodthirsty madness or the slave-drivers' whips, threw themselves into battle at the forefront, the Fomoire skirmishers were gathering up into armies. They had rank upon rank of infantry, each in armor refitted to suit missing or misplaced limbs, additional eyes, gigantism, or grotesquely over-muscled physiques. Most were armed with jet-black spears or bent and misshapen swords of pure iron.

  Worse was the cavalry. There weren't nearly as many mounted warriors as there were soldiers on foot, but what there were seemed bad enough. The creatures they rode mostly looked like horses, but only if they were hairless, and on so much magical steroids that anyone looking could see the play of muscles and veins. They had crazed looks, and only some combination of expert riders and handlers with chains kept them from charging after the wild things themselves.

  Visible behind both were the giants. None were as large as Balor's body had been, but many made the ten-foot tall beast handlers, and the troll-sized soldiers of the infantry look tiny. The largest was perhaps forty feet tall, with a couple of dozen things within ten feet of that. They were as hideous as the other ranks, perhaps more so, with misshapen or mis-placed features, extra eyes, extra arms, scales, claws, the features of beasts blended with those of men—no two were alike.

  Much as she wanted to try to get some idea of when they'd be coming, or if other troops were arriving, Megan was forced to turn her full attention to the first ranks of the Fomoire. The handlers with the thorned whips drove the crazed ranks on at full speed, in uneven lines. Some of the fae broke, or scrambled behind supposed protection, while others eagerly stepped up to meet the rush. Some knots of the fae showed coherent unity, such as the Scandinavians, who took up positions, setting spears against the charge, shieldmen moving to guard their flanks, while archers set up behind them, firing into the oncoming rush.

  The attackers hit the first ranks of the traps the builders had set, channeled around rock formations. This, in turn, left them to run or to be driven over the deadfalls. The ground gave away under them, dropping madmen, monsters, and slaves alike onto primitive pikes or sharp rocks. The obstacles built of pieces of the city of Murias were no less deadly, each several ton chunk of stone bearing numerous runes. Some were simply warded, forcing some of the Fomoire away from them, and onto more treacherous paths. Others lit up with crackles of electricity or fire when they were approached too closely, dropping more enemies onto the field.

  Such was the momentum of the frenzied charge—or the incoherence of some of the maddened attackers, or the misery of the captive ones—that even once a trap was revealed, some charged ahead anyway, and a few of the spiked pits began to fill. Others did their best to race around each obstacle, though the increasingly crowded running lanes led to some of them being pushed onto lethal ground anyway.

  Hidden spear traps sprung up in front of others, once they'd progressed further. Trying to navigate around these dangers just guided the attackers into even more traps, or onto the single safe lane that would channel the attackers directly at the ogres and Scandinavians. Despite taking losses in the rush, they kept coming at full speed.

  The Fomoire's expendables emerged from the field of traps and obstacles. Most rushed headlong into the teeth of the faerie forces, engaging with the ljosalfar spearmen, the ogres, and the other primary combatants. Others spread out along the fae lines, seeking some weak point to engage. As they did, some of the varied delegations rushed to help shore up the lines. Others took cover as best they could. For many, chaos reigned as they tried to figure out how best to react.

  "My Lady, we should get you—" Justin said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

  "—to where more people can see and hear me. Right," Megan said, climbing from the bench onto the top of the table.

  "That's not what I..." This time, Justin cut himself off, and just followed, getting himself and his shield between Megan and the enemy, as she started to sing her battle march to inspire courage in the fae soldiers. Cassia also moved to protect Megan from enemy arrows and any of the oncoming horde that might make it past the front ranks.

  Inwar quickly took to command, calling for the Seel
ie to rally to him, and leading them to fall in with the ranks of the Northerners. Under his command, the differences between the two forces melted away as the Norse fell quickly to battle-readiness, while much of the Seelie forces formed battle ranks around them. Shields went up to buy protection for archers and sorcerers, who freely fired into the enemy ranks, while the wall of spears extended.

  Tiernan briefly considered the rush of the Seelie forces, and ultimately rejected Inwar's command, moving his own spearmen near the center of the lines. His men didn't have the numbers of the Norse contingent, but showed more discipline than many of the sidhe, following Tiernan's commands quickly, readying to meet the enemy's mad rush.

  Orlaith, for her part, looked briefly divided, attention shifting between Tiernan's forces and Inwar's gathering. With a wave of her hand, she bolstered Tiernan's forces, their weapons lighting with white flames, before she turned her full attention to aiding the magical forces working with Inwar.

  Riocard, for his own part, remained just in front of the table, letting Inwar handle much of the tactical command, while he gathered a handful of followers to him, doling out instructions while they were temporarily protected by being behind the defensive lines of the Seelie and others. Megan wasn't sure what her father's plan was, but his calm confidence in the midst of the chaos suggested he had one. As with Inwar, many others responded to this example, and a motley crew of fae of many nations gathered around him. Despite the ranks swelling, he simply held up a hand, urging patience, telling his troops to wait for his command.

  As she sang, her voice building and building, Megan felt an odd sensation. It started as a tingling in her fingers, and a rush of elation and energy. Looking around, she found her eyes drawn to the cauldron. Gaelic writing, formerly invisible, lit up along its surface to her eyes. She still couldn't read it, but recalled the runes on the Lia Fail glowing when O'Neill had interacted with it. When her voice faded amidst her confusion, the writing faded—when she picked her song back up, the writing grew brighter again, and the sensation of invigoration she felt built up again as well. She recalled mention of its ability to inspire greater alliance and unity, and how it was supposed to be every bit as powerful as the stone or the sword, just more subtle.

  Embracing the feeling of raw power hitting her, Megan turned her attention back on the battlefield, on the mad rush of the Fomoire's hordes of twisted monsters, and then on the defenders readying themselves to meet them.

  Her voice grew, similar to the effect of the amplification charm her father had given her before, letting her voice echo across the field, but this time, he didn't seem to have any hand in it. Some of the uncertainty and panic along the fae lines visibly turned to resolve as the bard song and the power of the Dagda's Cauldron took hold.

  The oncoming horde charged headlong into the prepared spears, lances, and shields, and the two armies met with a ferocious clash of metal and battle cries. Within instants of the first contact of the Fomoire and fae lines, Riocard brought his upraised hand down, and called a single command. His forces raced for every gap in the fae lines in a wild counter-charge, rushing at the enemy and cutting off any break in the allied forces.

  Megan's voice rose again, and even the shouts and screams of the fierce skirmish were drowned out, as all around her, the battle was joined.

  Chapter 35: Ways of War

  The slaves proved to be poor combatants, but excellent trap-finders, unintentional as it may have been. Those poor souls seemed almost eager to be put out of their misery in many cases, racing onto enemy weapons, if they didn't fall victim to traps in the field. Some of the madmen and twisted monsters did much the same, but out of blind bloodlust. Some died quickly, while others tried to run up the lengths of spears to get to the wielders, until they died or had their heads taken by swordsmen on the fae's front line.

  Some of the fae turned their magic on the horde. Orlaith guided most of the sidhe and some of the more sorcerous fae that Megan was familiar with. The djinn joined in the effort, summoning sheets of flame with an intensity and effect that matched Orlaith's own fiery magic. Quite a few of the other delegates joined in this effort as well, some with immediate, obvious effect. Others, Megan guessed, were twisting the laws of reality in more subtle fashions.

  Others among the international forces met ferocity with ferocity, such as the ogres, who bellowed challenges and met the charge, swinging massive clubs and heavy weapons, sweeping through ranks of smaller creatures, or engaging the giant slave-drivers wherever possible.

  Riocard's counter-charge hit the Fomoire ranks just as their own was blunted. Among those sweeping into the enemy lines, Megan was surprised to see the tengu, darting from foe to foe, lashing out with precise strikes. Riocard himself prevented an attempt at flanking by the Fomoire with a wave of his hand, transforming half a dozen of the beasts into ice statues.

  For several minutes of fierce fighting, it was uncertain which side would take the upper hand, but the fae lines held, and in some cases, even started to drive the Fomoire back. Inwar shouted a demand for his spear wall to hold ground, and, for the most part, the ljosalfar did as commanded. The other forces of Faerie were less predictable. Some of the more notably bloodthirsty of the fae were the first, refusing to disengage. The ogres were notable among these, but they were far from the only ones. Sensing a chance to seize momentum, even some of the sidhe left the lines, forcing the Fomoire back into the field, into the deadfalls and nearer the rune traps. Tiernan, not to be outdone, shouted a command of his own and gestured his entire unit forward, using spears and shield alike to drive their opponents backward. Inwar shouted something to Tiernan that Megan couldn't catch. Tiernan glanced back, sneered at the General, and continued the advance, breaking the line of spears to pursue the enemy.

  Caught between the deadly traps and the fiercest of the faerie ranks, dozens of the Fomoire soldiers, monsters, and slaves fell. Riocard raised his voice, calling for his troops, and started to fall back. Soon after, Megan caught sight of what he was seeing.

  More of the giant slave-drivers were advancing, this time with much larger monsters, many of them at least twice the size of any elephant, with the same teeth and claws of those that had preceded them to the front, as well as, in many cases, horns and tusks. They trampled across those of their own forces trying to pick their way carefully through the field and avoided some of the pitfalls simply on account of the pits being full of bodies. Many of the giants didn't make it, cut down by traps and arrows, but others, leading new hosts of expendables, charged full tilt at the faerie lines.

  Not all of Riocard's forces heeded him, caught up in the battle. While they fought ferociously against the new advance, some were forced back, and others simply crushed or smashed aside. Tiernan likewise refused to give ground. Indeed, he challenged the rider of the lead beast, managing to duck aside as it rushed him, before climbing onto its back to stab the rider and put his spear through the back of the beast's neck. The beast came crashing down as Tiernan drew his sword to meet the creatures and maddened warriors rushing around and over the body. His troops and some of the Unseelie warriors, inspired by the feat, rushed to meet them.

  While the Fomoire took the worst of it, one by one, the spears, brightly lit by Orlaith's magic, snuffed out as their wielders fell. A number of Riocard's less-disciplined troops fell as well, and more and more of the attackers fought past the skirmish to reach the front lines again. Inwar struggled to reorganize troops to fill in the gaps with more spears, but more of the beasts and madmen poured through the holes as they appeared, or as they were able to drag down defenders.

  Riocard, his troops, and some of the delegates with their own guardsmen started engaging these wherever they could, before they reached the builders, the archers, the sorcerers, the other musicians, or the bard atop the table. For a moment, Megan looked for more cover, but what she saw was her father fighting off three creatures and Justin and Cassia readying themselves to defend her. So Megan raised her voice in her own small ch
allenge to the Fomoire.

  Justin cut down the first two attackers to reach him, though the second struck his shield hard enough to leave a deep dent in the metal. Cassia attacked one of the slave-drivers, trying to match his strength and greater reach with greater speed and ferocity. The giant beast, some sort of horrible combination of bull, saber-tooth tiger, and alligator, kept coming at Megan, until both leopards attacked it, testing the thickness of its scales with their claws. It kept tossing them loose as they leapt, climbed, and clawed, but each time, they risked teeth and horns to pounce again.

  Two more combatants reached them, the madmen swinging wildly. Justin gave each his attention in turn, holding his ground without managing to find a good opening to counter-attack against his savage opponents.

  Cassia, meanwhile, found herself disarmed when the giant managed to entangle her sword with the whip, pulling it from her hands. He raised the whip, whirling it and looking to Megan, as if the satyress was harmless now. Before he could lash the long, thorned weapon, Cassia charged, crashing shoulder-first into his waist. The blow didn't knock him down, but did force him to stagger, and drew his attention back to the satyress.

  “Sound the horn—oof!” Catching movement at the corner of her eye as a madman climbed onto the table, Megan dove for a weapon that one of Justin’s opponents had dropped. She fumbled with the knife a little as the Fomoire rushed her. Before he could swing, a streak of black and amber streaked past his face. The Count clawed at the madman's eyes, resulting in a lot of screaming and face-grabbing.

  In the moment that bought her, Megan managed to grab the wicked-looking knife and, remembering the lessons from Justin, plunge it into his stomach. Seeing no other immediate threats, but plenty of chaos in the field as he fell, she stood, and resumed singing while Justin and Cassia fought to keep her free to do so.