Those were not good odds.
Especially with Bismarck standing at the helm, that goddamn spear at the ready, once again sporting an iron addition. All she had to do was point and throw, and the spear would do the rest. She had four susceptible people to choose from, and there was no way to completely dodge the spear. You either had to let it wound you superficially, as I’d managed in the past, or…
I gripped the hilt of Fragarach. The spear’s target-seeking magic had been negated by Fragarach’s own magic, the two Tuatha relics canceling each other out with a destructive backfire. If I could lure Bismarck into another duel, then perhaps I could use Fragarach to cause a backfire strong enough to break the connection that she had to the spear and—
“Do you hear that?” Orlagh said. “Hoofbeats.”
I poked my head above the top of the root and gave Bismarck a mocking wave while subtly shifting so my ears could catch more of the sounds originating outside the boundary of the forest. It was hard to discern, but I thought I could just make out the faintest patter of hoofbeats. Many hoofbeats.
Bismarck flipped me off and raised the spear, prompting me to duck behind the root again, although the spear never came calling. If she threw it before we emerged into the open field, we’d scatter deeper into the woods, and the goon platoon would either have to split up and pursue us into the more hostile terrain, or lose their visual and risk us escaping at another exit point.
So Bismarck restrained herself, to some degree. Her uncomplimentary words about me floated past the tree line, a less effective but still irritating attack.
“None of Abarta’s mooks are on horseback,” I said to Orlagh. “You think that’s the Seelie heading our way?”
“It doesn’t look like the…mooks crossed the boundary of the neutral buffer zone,” Orlagh answered. “But if a passing scout noticed an unnaturally large gathering of individuals known to have connections with an enemy of the sídhe, then it’s possible an alarm was raised at the nearest fort, and a unit dispatched to investigate.”
“In which case,” Odette drawled, “help might be coming right over that hill.”
We waited, tense and anxious, praying that something went right for us today.
And someone, or something, answered those prayers.
A unit of Seelie soldiers barreled over the hill on horseback.
Ten imposing figures, almost all of them familiar figures, armed to the teeth. Bright auras wafted off their forms like flames flickering in the wind.
At the lead was Brigid, who looked even more imposing than she had the last time I’d seen her. Due to the well-polished insignia of a captain pinned to her uniform that called attention to her recent promotion.
Brigid barked orders to the nine other soldiers, and they obeyed without hesitation.
The soldiers steered their horses farther apart until they created a long line with ample space between each person, taking advantage of the wide-open field where Abarta’s goons had set up shop. At Brigid’s next shout, four of the soldiers tugged bows off their backs and nocked arrows in perfect sync.
Brigid then raised her sword, pointed the tip directly at Bismarck, and gave the order to attack. No taking prisoners. No showing mercy. No holding back.
Whistling arrows sliced through the air, carried on streams of gleaming magic, and in their wake came the chaos of a midsummer storm.
Great balls of fire roared across the battlefield and struck the ground like meteorites, blasting craters into the earth and burning everything they touched, including flesh and bone.
The arrows shattered troll skulls and splattered the grass with globs of gray matter, painted the formerly pristine field dark red.
Arcs of white lightning struck near scattering elves and redcaps, frying almost a dozen and throwing just as many to the dirt, skin steaming and eyes bleeding.
It was a massacre, plain and simple.
Bismarck, unperturbed by the grisly sight of her underlings dying in droves, calmly took aim with the spear and launched it at one of the oncoming soldiers.
That soldier, it turned out, was Aodhan, the guy who’d tended to my gory gut wound that day in the cavern. He caught sight of the approaching spear, and recognized it, fear shredding the façade of passionate resolve that all Seelie soldiers wore to battle.
He dove off his horse, raised a shield, and lifted his sword to try and block the hit. But the spear sought to draw blood like a tick. It pierced his shield as if it wasn’t even there, expertly evaded his sword, and clipped his left shoulder.
The impact spun Aodhan out, and he hit the ground hard, bouncing several times before rolling to a stop amid a pile of charred redcap corpses. He clutched at the wound on his shoulder, crying out from the unexpected shock of an iron burn.
Aodhan’s vulnerability drew the attention of two other soldiers—
Cara and Lorcan, two more of Brigid’s pals. Cara veered out of the attack formation to cut off a group of six svartálfar darting toward Aodhan, while Lorcan swung around behind them and cast a spell that unleashed a barrage of small fireballs.
The dark elves dove for cover behind the thick corpse of a troll and brought up shields to block the white-hot spheres raining down upon them.
This gave Cara the opportunity to scoop Aodhan up and deposit him on the back of her saddle. Once she secured him, she gave her horse a hard prod with her heels, and it took off in the direction of Aodhan’s horse, which had come to a halt in the
middle of the battlefield, confused about how to proceed without its rider.
The loss of three people in the attack line eased the pressure on the thickest part of the goon platoon, allowing them to open several rip portals in order to facilitate a quick escape. The few remaining trolls lumbered on through first, follow by their half-blood kin, and then by the lanky redcaps. When most of the redcaps were through, the dark elves systematically teleported away from their defensive positions and slinked through the portals in small groups.
Throughout all of this, Bismarck stood proud and unyielding. She waited until the bulk of her surviving henchmen crossed over to whatever realm they’d connected to, and then she made a subtle gesture with her hand. The Spear of Lugh shot out of the ground some eighty feet away, where it had come to rest after striking Aodhan, and rocketed back across the battlefield.
Not having expected the boomerang effect, the startled soldiers, who’d been closing in on Bismarck’s position, lurched far out of the spear’s trajectory. Which gave Bismarck all the time she needed to catch the spear, turn around, and traipse on through the nearest portal.
A few seconds later, the last of the stragglers hurried on through behind her, and the portals closed like zippers, resealing the torn sections of the veil.
Just like that, the battle was over.
Brigid immediately called out a stream of orders to reorganize her troops.
Two of the soldiers I didn’t recognize dismounted from their horses and jogged around the perimeter of the battlefield, thoroughly checking all the bodies to make sure none of them had pulses.
Two more, the medics of the group, rushed to Aodhan’s side and examined his iron wound, as well as the breaks and bruises he’d earned from his less-than-graceful landing.
The rest of the soldiers gathered behind Brigid and followed her at a short distance as she steered her horse toward the edge of the forest, combing the tree line for the people she had presumably been ordered to rescue from certain harm.
Grabbing the top of the root, I pulled myself to my feet and let out a sharp whistle. “We’re over here!”
All eyes locked onto me, and a nervous hush fell over the field.
Oh, right. I look like a Tuatha, I thought, abashed. Probably should’ve slapped on an appearance glamour.
Brigid gave me a once-over, eyebrow arched at a sharp angle.
“Vincent Whelan, you seem to have undergone some…interesting changes since last we met.”
I made a circular motion around my
face with my hand. “This is a temporary arrangement. It’s an integral part of my current mission.”
The eyebrow didn’t fall. “Really?”
Orlagh stood up beside me. “Indeed it is, Captain. We’ve just come from an encounter with the Morrígan, who provided Whelan with the tools necessary to complete a mission of great importance, handed down to our team by Queen Mab herself.”
Brigid stared at Orlagh for a moment, no doubt noting her washed-out complexion. “No need to explain in detail, Major Maguire. We have already been apprised of your mission. You, and the rest of your team, may emerge from the old forests now, and cross the boundary of the neutral zone. You have been given permission to receive a period of hospitality at the Seelie military installation nearest to your departure point.”
Boyle sprang up next to Orlagh. “It sounds like there have been a great many developments since we entered the forest a scant few hours ago.”
“More than you can guess, Captain Boyle.” Brigid waved us forward. “Please, do come out and let our field medics look you all over. After you’re tended to, I will inform you of the astonishing shakeups that have occurred since you set off from Fort Drochrath.”
At my urging, everyone crawled out from behind the root and shuffled out of the forest, the daylight of the Seelie Court stinging our eyes after hours in the endless twilight. The two medics, once they finished bandaging Aodhan’s iron wound, jogged over and gave us a look-see.
When the medics were done with us, we seated ourselves in a circle of grass a good distance from the smoking battlefield.
Then we listened with rapt attention as Brigid described what were in fact “astonishing shakeups.”
“A little over two hours ago, a series of missives came down from the palace to the entire Seelie Army. The first of them informed us that the man calling himself Abarta of the Tuatha Dé Danann had been confirmed as the genuine article,” she began as she dismounted from her horse, “and that he’d been spotted this very day in a secret hideaway right here in the Seelie Court: Maige Itha, the lost homeland of the Fomorians. Which was rediscovered only half a day ago, when a spell of great power discharged into the sky above it, a spell that appeared to jumpstart the formation of the Wild Hunt.”
She paused and scanned each of us, noting our bland expressions.
“I assume you are aware of some of this information, but bear with me. I must tell you of the missives in the order in which they were received if I am to craft a coherent narrative.”
We made a few noncommittal noises. We were too tired to argue with Brigid’s storytelling style.
Clearing her throat, she continued. “Not ten minutes after that first missive sent shockwaves through the court, a second arrived, stamped with a seal of urgency. It detailed a series of attacks underway on a substantial number of rural villages, in both courts. Attacks thought to be committed by agents of Abarta.
“Every military installation on the continent quickly dispatched units to the affected villages. Abarta’s forces, naturally, made for poor adversaries against multiple sídhe soldiers. But they managed to do so much damage to the villages before the units arrived to subdue them that the soldiers had to remain after the battles to assist the lesser-fae citizens with rescue and cleanup efforts.”
“Which was the whole purpose of the attacks,” I guessed. “They dispersed a large number of troops to remote locations, making it difficult for the armies to reorganize their assets when the primary attack finally started.”
Brigid dipped her head. “You are correct, Vincent Whelan. It was indeed a distraction.”
“What was the primary target?” Orlagh asked. “Maige Mell?”
“Yes.” Brigid sighed. “Abarta portaled in at the very edge of Maige Mell’s outer ward array, followed by what could only be called a battalion. The platoon assigned to guard Maige Mell was taken by surprise, but the soldiers jumped into battle without hesitation, decimating Abarta’s forces in minutes.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ on the horizon.” Odette picked a bloody twig out of her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. “Something went wrong with the defense.”
Brigid sank to the ground beside me, joining our circle of exhausted travelers. “The battalion was merely another distraction. The real danger to the plain’s defenses was already inside the ward array. While the soldiers were busy throwing all they had at Abarta’s forces, the enemy within committed a disastrous act of sabotage.”
Orlagh’s brow furrowed. “There was a traitor in their midst?”
Brigid bit the inside of her cheek. “The missive that described this grim turn of events was unclear on the matter of the perpetrator’s identity. But the chatter from my superiors that I,
ah, covertly picked up at the fort where I am stationed described the perpetrator as some sort of shadow creature capable of possessing bodies.”
“Oh hell,” Indira groaned, “not that thing again.”
“You know of it?” Brigid asked.
I recounted our earlier experience with the Interloper. “You’ll probably receive another missive describing the creature in detail. The upper echelons of the military brass and the court governments have been aware of it for a while, but today was the first time it’s been sighted in Tír na nÓg.”
Boyle looked troubled. “If the Interloper entered the realm today specifically to aid Abarta in his assault on Maige Mell, then that implies Abarta is already working in concert with the Enemy from Beyond.”
Brigid cast a glance at her subordinates, who were gathered behind her, listening to our conversation. All of them seemed just as baffled as she did about the term “Enemy from Beyond.”
So I explained that as well. There was no longer a point in holding back. By the end of the day, everyone in Tír na nÓg, down to the lesser fae living in the remotest reaches of the continent, would know that a new war with a strange and dangerous enemy had been lifted from its place within a shadowy government conspiracy and exposed, raw and brutal and imminently threatening.
Brigid connected the dots. “I see. So that is why the queens were so reluctant to acknowledge Abarta as a legitimate threat to the realm. Why they utilized so many obscure and roundabout tactics in order to thwart his plans.” She made eye contact with me. “Why they designated you his foil, instead of a formally recognized agent of either court.”
I nodded in confirmation, although I now had a lot of reasons to suspect that wasn’t the entire story. There was something special about me, something that set me apart from other half-sídhe, as much as I was loath to admit it.
I didn’t want to be special. Because special qualities meant special treatment. And when it came to sídhe society, special treatment meant your head was put on the chopping block a lot more often than the bobbing heads of the unwashed masses.
Being special meant I could expect more of what I’d faced over the past year. Forever. And ever. And ever.
Huffing in frustration, I said, “Okay, so the Interloper sabotaged Maige Mell’s defenses, allowing Abarta to enter the plain. What happened after that?”
Brigid pursed her lips. “I do not know. The last missive my fort received informed us that the battle for Maige Mell was still ongoing, and that reinforcements were expected to arrive within ten minutes after the dispatch of that missive. That was roughly half an hour ago.”
“Why weren’t you sent as part of the reinforcements?” Boyle asked.
“Because,” Brigid answered, “that missive also contained instructions to reserve a modest number of units for an equally vital mission: to patrol the borders of the old forests in search of a team of Unseelie operatives who’d been sent to petition the Morrígan for an alliance with the courts, and also to receive some sort of assistance from the Morrígan that would aid the courts in thwarting the upcoming ride of the Wild Hunt. Which, the missive claimed, would be a ride across the Earth.”
“Well, you completed that mission with flying colors,” said Odette, flopping back ont
o the soft grass, basking in the warmth of the perpetual midday sun. “We really needed some backup.”
“So I ascertained.” Brigid peered over her shoulder at the blackened battlefield strewn with bodies. “Clearly, Abarta did not want you to succeed in your mission.”
“We still haven’t succeeded.” With a soft groan—my iron wound was aching something awful—I rose to my feet. “I have what I need to become King of the Hunt, but that’s still going to be a major challenge. And I don’t have much time left for trial and error.
First things first though, I have to get to the right location.”
Brigid stood as well. “Would that be the area where the Hunt is currently forming?”
“It would. Think you can give me a lift?” I swept my hand in an arc to indicate the rest of my group. “You can take them back to your fort for some well-deserved R&R.”
“What?” Odette pushed herself up with her metal arm. “You want to go it alone from here?”
“My only option is to go it alone from here,” I said. “The best you guys can do once I actually approach the Hunt is stand there and give me moral support. You guys should go take a much-needed break. Get the medics at the fort to cancel Tori’s stim potion, and then nap, eat, rest—do whatever you need to do to recharge.
“If you keep on going like you have been, you’re all going to crash so badly a few hours from now that you’ll be of no use at all when the next terrible development comes to pass. And given all that’s happened over the past couple days, you know that development will come, sooner rather than later.”
Orlagh wrung her hands for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right.
We should take the opportunity to recover as best we can, as we may soon be needed for another critical effort, either here or back on Earth.”
Drake, who’d partially hidden himself from view of the Seelie soldiers using Boyle’s large frame, peeked around the man’s arm and said to me, “Guess we should wish you luck then, eh?”
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