The Druid's Guise: The Complete Trilogy (The Druid's Guise Trilogy)

by Michael J Sanford

  Athena grunted, but a host of elven voices chimed in response.

  “Shadows we have, Master,” one called. She stepped to his side and extended her hand, displaying a number of small, black orbs.

  Wyatt smiled and nodded. “We fight in the dark then,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THERE WERE MORE than three dozen faeries sprinting for them when the first salvo of smoke balls arced into the air. They struck the charging enemy and burst on contact. In an instant, the street was cast in shadows, dark billowing smoke bursting from the small orbs. The Fae shouted in surprise as the entire street darkened. The smoke was thick like fog, but dry as sand. It pressed against the surrounding buildings and rose to the ceiling, fifty feet overhead. The charging Fae vanished in that instant, but Wyatt saw them. He could see each strand of life that emanated from their bodies. They blazed brightly within his mind. He could feel his skin crawl with power.

  Wyatt and his band of unschooled warriors were outnumbered, but they charged as one. They surged forward, toward the wall of black smoke. No one bellowed a war cry or shout. They stayed silent, taking quick but careful steps. Shadows and silence are our weapons, Wyatt thought as he crossed into the blackness. Shadows and death are the gifts we give. Death and shadows.

  Though his eyes couldn’t see her, Wyatt knew Athena was running at his side, sword flashing before her. Maia took to the air, her wide wings lifting her slight frame with grace and ease. A dozen elves fanned out behind him and stole silently into the smoke.

  Wyatt ran hunched over, staying as low as he could, his mind actively searching for the closest faerie. It took only a moment to locate the Fae warriors. That stood motionless in the smoke, spinning in frantic circles, trying to discern their prey. The smoke would not last forever, nor would their stupor. Wyatt and his small band of fighters needed to act quickly.

  Wyatt slid to his knees as he darted at the first faerie. The winged creature held his sword high in front of his chest, but Wyatt grabbed his knee. It only took a moment for his mind to seize the life force and draw it in. The knee and most of the faerie’s upper leg rotted in an instant. Wyatt sprang to the side as the creature crumbled to the floor with a grunt of pain and surprise. He shuffled to the side and sought to pull at the faerie’s neck, but a silver sword cut through smoke and flesh before he could reach it. For a moment, the smoke receded from the twirling teen. Wyatt looked to her and saw Athena’s face split in a ferocious smile before the smoke swallowed them up again.

  They traveled through the smoke as a two-headed demon; Wyatt crouching low and devouring legs and arms, while Athena spun over top of him, wielding her sword like a baseball bat, blindly taking lives. Wyatt shot his hand into an unsuspecting stomach and turned a faerie’s innards to decayed mush and found himself wondering how Athena could see in the smoke. He pulled away, ducking just in time to avoid her whistling sword.

  Wyatt and Athena had cut down four faeries before the Fae gathered their courage and regrouped. The street filled with the sound of buzzing wings as they took to the air. The smoke retreated from their wings, leaving only a thin haze.

  His cover gone, Wyatt stood motionless. The air was no longer clouded with black smoke, but with snarling faeries. Their wings buzzed loudly and sliver swords caught the flickering torchlight, glinting like so many metal teeth.

  A dozen slain faeries littered the ground, but the number seemed insignificant compared to those in the air, and they continued to pour forth from the Sapper. Wyatt looked at the building with wretched unease, but the feeling quickly shifted to rage as he caught sight of Fae’Herot standing near the door. The Fae leader was nearly a head taller than the others and was clad in thick leather armor from her shoulders to her feet. Only her head was without protection. Her hair hung free, drifting in the unsettled air. Her jaw was set and her eyes filled with stony hatred.

  “We need to get to Fae’Herot,” Wyatt said to Athena.

  The teen responded with a shout of dismay, though it was not addressed to Wyatt. He turned to follow Athena’s gaze and saw Maia, high above them, surrounded by a swarm of angry faeries.

  “Maia,” Athena shouted. Her sword was at the ready, but was useless with the enemy thirty feet overhead.

  A faerie lunged for the spriteling, leading with his sword. Maia flapped her wide wings once, spun to the side and brushed a hand over the charging faerie as he flew past. The faerie stopped, lowered his sword arm, and stared about perplexed as if he had no idea where he was. Maia wasted no time. She folded her wings and tilted forward, dropping like a stone.

  Athena let out a pained gasp and ran for the falling spriteling, but it was in vain. Six feet from the ground Maia unfolded her wings, was wrenched upright by their immense drag and alighted on her feet with uncanny grace.

  Athena reached the spriteling’s side and grabbed her by the shoulder, urging her to retreat. Maia needed no encouragement. The Fae were diving toward them, leading with silver points and hungry smiles.

  Athena and Maia ran toward Wyatt, closely followed by a throng of faeries. Wyatt’s eyes flashed amongst the innumerable foe. His mind jumped from voice to voice. There was no hope of victory, he knew, but the thought only infuriated him further. Athena seemed to come to the same realization, and spun on a dime to face the coming enemy, her expression set in stone and her sword singing a steel song before her.

  The Fae split their attack, some headed for the dozen elves that stood spread across the street, and the others making a line for the pair of humans and spriteling bard.

  They are too many, Wyatt thought. And I can’t hope to evade their blades in order to touch their flesh. He silently cursed the need to establish a tangible connection to their life force.

  The first faerie drove at Wyatt as he crouched, mulling over his options. He didn’t have time to react and would have been skewered on the spot if Athena had not intervened. Her sword rang off the enemy’s and sent the faerie rolling across the wooden street. Athena made to pursue her, but a second faerie drove into her side, knocking her off balance. She gathered herself and spun, but the faerie was faster and struck Athena across the jaw with a spiked forearm. The faerie’s bony ridges tore at the teen’s skin and sent her to the ground.

  The faerie gathered her sword, but Maia lunged at her and seized the faerie’s neck. At once her expression dissolved from fierce bloodlust to utter dejection. Her sword clattered to the floor. Maia spun away, leaving the faerie in a stupor that didn’t change, even as Athena drove her sword point into the creature’s stomach. She fell dead, her face conveying that even that was of no bother.

  Athena wrenched her sword free and stood at Wyatt’s side, panting, her face awash in blood and sweat. Maia folded her wings and pressed in tightly against Athena’s side. The trio looked at the coming army. They stared upon their death.

  “Well, it’s been fun,” Athena said with a grimace. Blood ran from her split cheek and soaked into her leather vest.

  Most of the Fae were engaged with the elusive elves at the far side of the wide street, but more continued to enter the fray from the burning Sapper. Wyatt stared at the building and shook his head. Smoke and flame burst from the doorway and a host of scorched holes in the walls, but still the Fae emerged. They stumbled into the street coughing, some with clothes afire, but it didn’t stop them. Was there no end to their number?

  “I’m sorry,” Wyatt said, his confidence wavering.

  They stood so close together that he felt her shrug. “Not how I imagined dyin’, but hey, it could be worse. At least we’re goin’ out heroes.”

  Wyatt smiled at that, but before he could answer, a loud concussion erupted at the center of the street accompanied by a brilliant flash of white light. Wyatt staggered backward, stunned and disoriented. He heard Athena curse, but her voice was faraway and muffled.

  When his senses settled and refocused, his chest filled with relief and his confidence was set ablaze once more.

  “Hell yeah,” At
hena shouted as dark shapes leapt from every surrounding window, gliding like the shadows they emulated.

  The Fae still airborne fell to the ground under the weight of shadowy Deceivers. Others collapsed with feathered darts protruding from their necks. Smaller concussions echoed as the elven Deceivers tossed a plethora of mysterious ceramic orbs.

  True to D’orca’s claim, the elves fought without blades, stunning the Fae with their concussive balls and then snapping necks with brutal strength and speed. Dozens of faeries fell to the ground, broken and as silent as their attackers, but the shock and awe of the surprise attack lasted only a few moments.

  The Fae shouted in the Old Tongue, calling to each other and gesturing frantically. In another moment they had regrouped, falling back to the burning Sapper from which reinforcements still came. They packed in tightly against one another, swords at the ready.

  Some faeries still littered the air, embattled with the cloaked elves, but they soon fell like autumn leaves and the Deceivers joined up in the middle of the street. The two legions stood in shared silence for a time, the Coven clad all in black, standing motionless like a giant amorphous shadow. The Fae stirred, bony spikes and silver swords glinting beneath the light of burning torches and the engulfed building at their back. A sea of carnage littered the space between them, but neither group paid the fallen any mind.

  “This is gonna be epic,” Athena whispered without turning her gaze from the battle scene.

  The trio stood at the side, pressed against the side of a windowless building, a few yards from the elven Deceivers. Wyatt stared at the shadowy group, trying to discern their numbers, but they seemed as one.

  “Ye cowardice knows no bounds,” shouted D’orca from the front of the shadowy mob. It was unclear exactly which dark hood the voice came from.

  The Fae shifted anxiously and Fae’Herot shouldered through her legion to stand a stride in front of them. She rested a pair of long swords on each shoulder. She laughed, thick and malicious. “You would speak of cowardice? You call your warriors Deceivers. And you hide behind your thick pine walls high in the trees.” She turned and spat.

  “And yet ye sought to catch us unawares by burning the forest,” D’orca shouted from the sea of shadows. His voice was ripe with disgust. “There is no greater sin.”

  Fae’Herot laughed and tossed aside her long hair in a movement that was too human for Wyatt’s liking. “And burn it shall. Down around your pointed ears, elf. It will all burn.”

  A single stream of laughter echoed back. It was D’orca. Athena cast Wyatt a confused look. Wyatt shrugged and turned back to the standoff.

  “Is it your imminent death that brings you such joy?” Fae’Herot said plainly, though her face betrayed her unease. The army of Fae at her back shifted, seeming eager to wet their blades.

  D’orca continued to laugh unseen for another moment. “Aye, the forest may burn. For a time. But it is ye that will smolder to ash. And the Coven shall dance upon the waste with smiles and much merriment.”

  Fae’Herot snarled, unslung her swords and charged at the elves. The Fae at her back moved in sync.

  “Hold just a moment!” D’orca bellowed.

  Surprisingly, the Fae onslaught halted a short stride from where it began. Fae’Herot’s eyes narrowed and she remained in a deep crouch, her swords at the ready. “Now you seek to delay. Is this more deception, elf?”

  The dark pool of elves moved and D’orca emerged. The elven leader pulled off his hood and allowed his heavily feathered hair to fall about his stout shoulders. Wyatt couldn’t see his bearded face, but something told him that the elf was grinning. Fae’Herot looked unnerved, and Wyatt could sense it as well.

  D’orca held up a hand. “Just a short moment, if it pleases ye.”

  “It does not please me,” Fae’Herot said, but she remained in place.

  Athena nudged Wyatt and he turned. “What is he doing?”

  “Just a bit longer,” D’orca said calmly.

  Wyatt looked to Athena and shrugged. The red-haired warrior moved to speak, but an explosion dwarfed her words and they were thrown to the ground with reckless abandon. Instinctively, Wyatt rolled to cover Athena. The teen had done the same, scrambling to protect Maia. The spriteling was unconscious. Fire filled the street, sending forth a wave of suffocating heat. Smoldering bits of charred timber shot through the air like fiery, unguided missiles.

  Wyatt’s hearing was stifled by the blast, but as he clung tight to Athena, he turned toward the Sapper. All that remained was a smoking hole that spanned the entire width of the street. Beyond the village, entire trees had been destroyed in the blast. Flames raged everywhere Wyatt looked. He remembered the explosion that had blown out the third-floor wall. Of course, he thought. The entire building was packed with sap in various stages of processing, not to mention the actual branches of pine that snaked through the lower floors. It had only been a matter of time before it all combusted.

  Bodies were strewn about the wooden street, many Fae, but others elven. Wyatt raked his eyes back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of D’orca or Fae’Herot. Was the battle over?

  The cluster of dark robes scattered and swarmed the street with dizzying speed and dexterity. They descended on the remaining Fae without mercy or hesitation. Chaos erupted as the faeries that were not burning upon the ground recovered. Silver blades cut through the smoke, and dark elves danced about, breaking necks and hurling their mysterious orbs.

  “Holy shit,” Athena said, wiggling away from Wyatt.

  Wyatt shifted and climbed to his feet. Athena knelt at Maia’s side. The winged creature lay unmoving and didn’t respond to Athena’s touch.

  “Is she…” Wyatt let his voice trail off.

  “She’s breathin’,” Athena said. “Think she knocked her head against the building. Oh, she’s bleeding.”

  Wyatt grimaced as he saw the line of blood running from the spriteling’s temple.

  Wyatt’s ears still throbbed and left the sound of battle in a hazy mire, but the shout from behind him was clear.

  “Fzuif,” Fae’Herot hissed as Wyatt turned to face the Fae leader.

  She had lost one of her swords and a majority of her hair. Scorched skin smoked along her scalp and half of her face. It only served to make her look even more evil than Wyatt knew her to be. Her eyes glinted wickedly, glued to Wyatt. He shuddered involuntarily.

  “Keep her away from Maia,” Athena shouted. It wasn’t a suggestion.

  Wyatt looked briefly to his companions and then spun, looking for backup. Fae’Herot had been thrown past the battle, along with a smattering of other faeries, but she was the only one that survived. The elves danced about their enemy at the far end of the smoking street, oblivious to Wyatt and Fae’Herot.

  Wyatt turned back toward the Fae leader and swallowed. She glared back, grimacing in pain, and readied her blade.

  “Kill that bitch,” Athena growled.

  Wyatt didn’t turn to look at her. His eyes were set on the smoldering faerie. She moved her wings, but only one remained and it was mangled beyond recognition. Fae’Herot grunted and charged.

  Wyatt remained fixed in place a moment, until Athena shouted again and set him to action. I have to protect them. I can’t fail. I’m a Druid. Bladeless, he ran at the charging faerie, his mouth set in a firm grin as power surged from the gem set in his chest and began to take over. And I will not be stopped.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  AS WYATT RAN, heat spread out from his chest, and he could sense dark tendrils snake around his limbs. His vision shifted, piercing through the haze of smoke. He could see Fae’Herot’s vitality as pulsating colors. He could see nothing else.

  They ran at each other, battered faerie and hungry Druid. Just before impact, Fae’Herot pivoted to the side and swung her sword in a downward cut. Wyatt saw the attack, but also knew he could not avoid it fully. Instinct took over and he jutted out a hand to catch the blade. Part of him thought it madness to attempt such
a maneuver, but a deeper instinct commanded it. The blade struck his palm and stopped it in mid strike. Pain rippled down his arm, and he knew the silver edge had cut deep, down to the bone. He curled his fingers around it, and wrenched it from Fae’Herot’s grip.

  Fae’Herot faltered for a moment and it was all Wyatt needed. He tossed the sword aside and lunged at the Fae leader with his other hand. She was taller than him by at least a foot, but he grabbed her by the throat. Immediately, his mind was flooded with the strong voice of the faerie’s life force. She gasped, grabbed at his arm and tried to speak, but a squeeze of Wyatt’s hand silenced her.

  He brought his other hand to her ribs. His mind latched onto the whisper coursing through her strong form. She tried to twist away, but a subtle pull on her life force exhausted the warrior and she collapsed to her knees.

  Wyatt brought both hands to the sides of her face and leaned in close. The scent of burned flesh filled his nostrils, and there was no mistaking the expression on Fae’Herot’s face. But it was not what Wyatt was expecting.

  “Why are you smiling?” he asked through clenched teeth. “You’re going to die.”

  Fae’Herot remained still and laughed. It was subtle at first, just a tremor, but then it blossomed to such a degree as to shake Wyatt’s whole body as he held onto her head.

  He shook her and shouted, “Stop laughing. You can’t stop me. I am Wyatt the—”

  “Ha!” she bellowed, silencing him. “Yes, I will die. My life forfeit at the hands of a Druid.”

  Wyatt shook her again, looking for some sense in her words. “You should be scared,” he said. “You should be begging for your life. Beg!”

  Fae’Herot no longer laughed, but a grin remained fixed on her battered face. “I accept my fate,” she said, “but I can take solace in the fact that yet another mighty Druid has fallen to temptation.”

  Wyatt leaned in until his lips grazed hers. Her words had enraged him, and should he had chosen to stop, he’d have failed. A feral madness swirled throughout him and there was only one end.