Arland stares straight ahead, body still, breaths even, not revealing a single bit of the tension he must be feeling. Somehow Perth mimics Arland’s controlled concentration, but Flanna and Brit appear equal parts eager to get this over and filled with sheer, utter horror. My sister’s face flushes a sickly shade of white mixed with a bit of gray.
A howl rings into the everlasting Darkness, sending chills up my arms. I squeeze my sword so tightly, I fear the metal may have permanent imprints of my palms.
Brit sucks in a sharp breath, then leans over and throws up.
I reach for her—
“No,” Arland says, grabbing my wrist. “She will be fine, and we cannot risk her illness affecting us.”
“I-I … .” He’s right. Going anywhere near my sister right now could start a horrible chain reaction. I’ve done everything in my power not to throw up since we left the cave, and losing it now wouldn’t do any of us good. “I’m sorry, Brit.”
She drops to her knees and waves her hand behind her back. “I’ll—” Brit coughs, and more clear fluid flows from her mouth.
My stomach twists, cramping as if I have a serious case of the flu. I turn away before it’s too late.
“I’ll be fine,” she says, voice raspy. “It’s just nerves.”
Arland lets go of my hand, pulls an arrow from his quiver, then notches it on his bow. “They are here.”
I jerk my head in the direction of the forest and then freeze, tingles rippling through me.
Tairbs stand tall with their eyes glowing red, kicking their hoofed feet at the dirt as if ready to charge. Hounds snarl and raise their hackles, white foam bubbling on the sides of their mouths.
The last time I faced a hound, I died. This time, there are only nine of us fighting in direct combat; coming back from the dead may not be an option, just like Flanna said. Heart racing, I look at my sister hunched over. She’s weak, vulnerable, and by the sounds of her heaving, she’s not getting up any time soon.
Arland grabs my chin and forces me to look at him, his emerald eyes narrowing. “Kate, focus on what lies ahead of you, not on Brit. None of us will survive if you worry over her. You know what you must do. Do not forget it. Focus only on Dughbal. The rest of us will guard you.”
She’s my sister, the only sister I have, and she’s in a dangerous state. How can he expect me not to worry about her? How can I expect me not to worry about her?
“Focus.” Arland’s command is deep, angry like the growls coming from the forest.
I swallow hard and nod.
“Good.” He releases his grip on my face then resituates his weapon, ready to fire, arrowhead burning and all. “Save your energy, and fight with your sword. Do not use the magic until you have to.” Arland squints his left eye, pulls the arrow, then lets it fly through the air. The arrow’s path cuts an arc of blue fire and lands with a thud in the center of a coscartha’s gray, concave chest.
The daemon bursts into flames and drops to the earth, writhing and shrieking as he dies.
Flanna winks at her cousin and laughs. “Great shot, Arland.”
She removes an arrow from her quiver, lights it with a spark from her palm, then notches the slender wood to her bowstring. “Hound. Between the eyes.”
Her arrow zips toward the daemons on the edge of the forest, then sinks right between a hound’s eyes. He yips and howls as his body burns, rolling on the ground. A steady stream of smoke rises from him.
“My turn,” Brit croaks, slowly getting to her feet and loading her weapon. “Tairb, eleven-o’clock.”
Her shot strikes through the tairb’s heart, bringing him to his knees. Bright-red blood seeps from his wound while the creature pulls at his death sentence, but he can’t seem to get the arrow from his chest. He tumbles face first into the dirt.
Tairbs are smart, smarter than any other daemon we’ve encountered. He didn’t even try to move, didn’t learn from the deaths of the others. I cannot believe he’d just stand there and allow himself to be killed … unless he was told to, or unless they have a plan. “Something’s wrong, Arland. Why are they just standing there? If they don’t come forward, the others won’t … .”
A sudden gust of wind lifts my hair from my shoulders and sends strands of it flying in front of my eyes.
“The winged beasts are approaching,” Quilos says, flying around me. “I will hold them off the best I can, but they are stronger than we are.”
I wipe away the stray locks from my vision and focus like Arland told me, not on the approaching bats or Quilos’s fear, but on finding Dughbal, on killing him.
Screeching rings in my ears from overhead, reminding me of a time I’d rather forget. The bats can’t steal Brad’s life again, but there are so many others here I love, so many others who can be lost.
“Focus, Kate.” Arland releases another arrow, this time piercing through the wing of a flying daemon, but his weapon doesn’t kill, doesn’t do more than illuminate the sky in a muted shade of blue.
The brittle grasses rustle and blow in the wind as seven of the hardest to kill creatures encircle us and bob only a few feet above the ground. An occasional piece of dead grass flies through the air and passes through one of the burning torches, falling into a pile of ash. Every time a bat flaps its wings, oxygen feeds the red embers, igniting the field in fire.
These beasts stole my friend, stole a part of my heart, and now they’re about to ruin our plan. Our army will rush in too fast. These daemons deserve to die, and I want to be the one to kill them. Balling my fists, I close my eyes and focus on Brit, on Arland, and on driving my sword through Dughbal’s chest.
“No, Kate.” Arland’s thoughts are confident and calming, yet firm.
I open my eyes; he isn’t even looking at me. Arland stares at the enemy in the sky.
“I can do this. I have to do this. How will the other soldiers get to us if our planned signal has already burned?”
Arland shakes his head, then allows another arrow to fly from his bow. “You cannot maintain the magic long enough, and no one else has as much control over it as you. Contain your emotions while Dughbal is not here and these beasts test us. Do not use the magic yet.”
Resigning myself to wait, I take a deep breath and force my anger back.
“Dughbal sent all his daemons, but he is nowhere to be found. Where is this god?” Perth asks, slowly spinning in circles. “Nothing approaches from behind. Tristan and the Bheagans assured us The Meadows are clear … .”
Tarik steps forward, keeping his eyes on the creatures surrounding us. “The Meadows are clear.”
Arland releases another arrow into a bat, and the tip collides right between the daemon’s beady, orange eyes.
The beast pulls out the arrow and keeps flying.
“What makes you think all the daemons have arrived, Perth?” Arland asks.
Perth blanches, looking ready to follow in my sister’s vomit ridden footsteps. “We have fought for months, killed thousands of Dughbal’s daemons, and lost some of our best soldiers … how many more can there be?”
Deep, menacing laughter dances around the meadow, but I can’t pinpoint where the sound originates. The ground rumbles, threatening to knock me over. My sword falls from my hands and lands on the dirt with a thud. Bending down to pick up my claymore, I catch sight of Brad. He appears the same as the last time I saw him alive: tall, strong, baby blue eyes piercing straight through me.
A stampede of daemons hurtles past him, down the hill, and through the burning brush. Death approaches at a rapid pace, and all I can do now is plant my feet wide apart, stand firm, raise my sword and wait. I will not fight the daemons unless I have to. I will focus on Dughbal, focus on him alone.
“Call to the magic and deliver a message to the soldiers, Kate. Tell them it is time.” Arland lowers his weapon and turns to me, opening his mouth as though he wants to deliver a message of his own, but a bat swoops down and kicks him in the head. My love notches his arrow, then sends it straight in
to the sky. “Now, Kate. There may not be another chance.”
Wake up.
Sprites rise from below my feet, then take off at lightning speed toward the forest. Screaming resonates from the edge of the wheat fields. Morans, Bheagans, Gary and Mr. Tanner, and even a few Mharans run down the hill armed with clubs, swords, and whips—whatever weapon they brought from their home worlds or borrowed. The ground shakes with the weight of so many trampling over it.
Hounds stop their forward progress and turn around, snarling and backing up. Heads lowered, fur raised, they lunge toward the largest of our army. The Morans swing their clubs and whack the hounds from their paths.
The Bheagans use the distraction caused by the larger soldiers to sneak behind five coscarthas closing in on us. Tarik rushes toward his brothers and sisters then jumps on the back of one of the daemons, inching up him like a logger would a tree. He stabs his sword through the beast’s throat. Blood splatters by my feet, creating a polka-dotted pattern on the dry earth. The other four coscarthas are killed in the same fashion, leaving a smile on the face of every man.
“Focus, Kate. Watch Dughbal, no one else.” Arland tosses his bow, draws his sword, then rushes toward a tairb who has his back turned.
I glance up the hill where I last saw Brad—no, Dughbal. He is not my friend; this evil god has my friend’s soul trapped in his body.
Stepping away from the shadows of the forest, he enters into the meadow, the corners of his mouth twisting into a wry smile. Dughbal tips his head in my direction and points. “Behind you,” he mouths.
I will not look behind me, will not allow him to distract me. Taking a few steps forward, I ignore the heat from the fire building in the wheat grasses, praying I don’t go up in a ball of flames like the daemons.
Brit screams, an agonizing, gut-wrenching scream.
Please, Griandor, protect my sister.
Dughbal laughs, the same laugh I’ve heard so many times before, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You pray to the wrong god, dearest Katriona. This land belongs to me. Soon all the lands will belong to me.”
His body fades, leaving only a transparent outline of Brad, then shifts into a brown dragon the size of a tractor-trailer. A cloud of black heat swirls from his mouth full of razor sharp teeth, floating toward me and suffocating the blazing fire, cutting me off from the others. Tendrils of Darkness caress my skin and lift my face to meet his yellow eyes and flaring nostrils. “Everyone you know will die today. But if you pray to me, I can end your suffering.”
I grind my teeth and shake my head free of his magical touch. “And what good would that do? You’d kill us anyway. You’d steal our magic and try to fight your brothers and sisters. There’d be no Heavens for us to go to, no worlds for us to live in. You are a shallow, heartless fool in search of power you have no ability to control—”
“You call me a fool?” In the blink of my eye, Dughbal returns to the form of my best friend and closes the distance between us as two bats swoop from the sky. They land next to me and stand guard over my enemy, their presence preventing me from calling to the sprites or using fire. The god takes my leather-covered wrists in his hands and squeezes, weakening my grip on my sword. Lip curling up, he releases an angry growl. “How dare you insult a god, an immortal!”
He abandons my wrists and clamps his hands on my shoulders, turning me around to face a scene I can do nothing but watch.
Perth, Arland, Flanna, and Brit are trapped in the center of thousands of daemons. Our allies are stuck on the outside, fighting desperately to get to my family.
Humu swings his whip above his head, then directs its impact outward. The brown, leather strap hits a hound with a crack, slowing the daemon down but not stopping him. The creature lunges at Perth but lands just shy of taking a bite out of his ankle. Arland drives his sword into the beast, yanks out the bloody iron, then spins around on his heel, slicing the head off a coscartha. The daemon’s dead, hollow eyes stare at me. Blood covers the sleeve of Brit’s left arm, but I can’t tell if it’s hers or another creature’s. Flanna stands with her back to my sister, eyes flitting in all directions, breathing heavily, then releases an arrow into a tairb.
We need to use magic, and we need to use it fast.
“Look at them, Katriona.” Dughbal’s hot breath burns my ear. “They will all die because of you.”
My mouth fills with the salty fluids always preceding throw up. I swallow, praying I don’t lose control now. I jab him with my elbow then spin around, raising my sword. “No, if they die, they die because of you.”
Dughbal laughs and snaps his fingers, a silent command that makes the bats fly around me, pushing me closer to him. He lurches forward then squeezes my throat, but not enough to strangle me, just enough to make me strain for air, to make me wish his hands would catch fire.
I drop my sword and attempt to peel away his fingers, but he’s too strong.
Dughbal spins me around so that I’m once again facing the battle, forcing me to watch while I’m unable to help. “I could kill you now, but the boy’s soul yearns for your safety, and this human is quite strong, stronger than I expected. He’s protecting you from me because he knows not of your betrayal. Do you think he would still wish for your life to be spared if he knew you carried that man’s child inside you?”
I gasp and choke on the now steadily flowing precursor to vomit. There’s no way I’m pregnant … is there? Placing a hand on my stomach, I fight back the urge to cry. Of course there’s a way. I’m married and have been with my husband many times, and my mom sent us back to Earth where it seems we were gone for months. She knew, but not expecting this was foolish of me … I’m in the middle of a war and pregnant, and I’ve seen my child’s father die too many times to think about.
“Arland … I’m pregnant.”
He turns to me, eyes wide, mouth open, face covered in sweat, blood and dirt. “You will make it through this. Now, fight his bats and kill h—”
A hound jumps from behind Arland, pouncing on his armor.
I whimper, afraid screaming will only please Dughbal. Tears well in my eyes, blinding me to Arland’s fate.
“Did I spoil the surprise?” Dughbal tightens his hold on my neck, making my breaths rattle in my throat, surely cutting off air my and Arland’s child needs to grow.
Our child … .
Anger shakes in my core, rumbling through my chest and bursting from me in a plume of blue fire that’s extinguished by the presence of his daemons. I knock Dughbal’s hands from me and then quickly pick up my sword and raise it, daring him and the bats to move toward me with a flick of my finger.
“Oh, I did,” he says, eyebrows lifting. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Your emotions are a strange mixture of joy and pain. Is that because you know your child’s life is doomed with yours and all the others?”
I draw my sword closer to me, building up enough courage to charge, to drive it through his heart, but Dughbal must sense my anger. He bends over, rubbing between his eyes, like he’s allowing Brad to take over.
“Where am I?”
My lip trembles, but I bite it. No way am I allowing either of them to see me upset. “Let him take control again, Brad. I’m going to end this.”
“I rather enjoy toying with you, child.” His blue eyes transform into blackness, and he laughs. “You do understand your sword will do very little against me in a fight, do you not?”
“Would you prefer I fight you using magic?” Something about my words sparks déjà vu in me. I shake my head and step forward.
“Foolish girl. I am an immortal. Why do you not comprehend this? My brother and sister sent you on a mission leading only to suicide. They are not the kind gods you believe them to be.”
A howl rings out above the rest of the battle sounds, putting a warm smile on Dughbal’s face … on Brad’s face.
“Arland, behind you,” Flanna shouts, tempting me to turn again, but I focus on what I have to kill.
“Last cha
nce—join me, Katriona, and fight against the gods who sentenced you to death.”
“Never.”
“Suit yourself.” He laughs and points at the sky. “A thabhairt ar an cailín.”
The wind picks up, squeaking rings in my ears, and one of the bats flies off.
“Duck!” Arland shouts.
My sister screams again, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Flanna, shoot as many arrows into it as possible. Now! But watch for Brit!” Arland’s voice is urgent, panicked. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I don’t need to turn around to know the daemon has my sister, don’t need to watch her be killed the same way as Brad. Every muscle in me burns, yelling at me to go to her, demanding I run away and fight for what I love, but I can’t move. I’m frozen with fear, facing an enemy that isn’t mine, that shouldn’t be fighting against mere mortals, crippled and powerless under the touch of a daemon that kills magic with its presence.
“A thabhairt dom,” Dughbal whispers, turning his face upward.
Emerging from the Darkness overhead with my sister in its grasp, a bat with a six-foot wide wingspan lined with pulsing, blue veins lands beside Dughbal. The beast uses his bare, human like feet to kick Brit toward the god and then takes a few steps back.
Brit hugs her trembling body; tears race down her cheeks.
“Would you like to share the good news with your sister, or shall I?”
Teeth chattering, she looks at me with her bright green eyes full of fear and sadness. Blood flows from her nose and cuts on her neck. “News?”
I nod, holding back the sobs attempting to take control of me. “I’m pregnant, Brit. And I don’t think we’re all going to make it through this. Either this child will never be born, or he’ll never know his father.”
Brit’s face hardens, giving her an appearance of a stone-cold statue. She turns and marches right up to Dughbal, standing closer than I’d dare put myself to him. “You’re going to die. You might kill me and everyone else, but Kate will put an end to you. Kill me here. Now. Get it over with. It will only fuel her fire, her power.”
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