by Amanda Fleet
As I sipped my coffee, I tried to prepare myself for what was ahead. I tried to imagine Finn was in danger and how I would react. Tried to lock that anger and hate into a useful shape that would allow me to slice the head off something that looked like my friend.
What terrified me was knowing that Aegyir could look like anyone. He’d told me that. I was unconvinced I would be able to chop off Rick’s head, but I knew for certain I would never manage to decapitate something that looked like Alison Cullen. I prayed that Aegyir would drop all pretence of being anything other than what he was.
Finn caught my eye across the table. “Are we really doing this?” He clasped his hands around his mug of coffee.
“What choice do we have? I have no doubt that if we don’t do something to stop him this evening, Aegyir will find a way to kill you tomorrow. He’s going to work his way through everyone close to me until I meet him on that hillside and he finds out I’m not able to open the door. If I meet him tonight and he realises I’m not Aeron…”
I tailed off. I’d been about to say, “Maybe he won’t kill you,” but I knew that I would choke on the words. Finn blanched. I assumed he thought that if Aegyir realised I wasn’t Aeron, he’d just kill me anyway.
“No heroics,” I said. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
He nodded, but I knew all too well what could happen when the red mist came down with him. I finished my coffee and checked the clock. “Time to go.”
***
We were there first. The sun was sinking but there was a good half hour or more of light. I didn’t want to contemplate doing what I had to do in the dark. I paced the area, checked that the sword was where we’d left it and listened for signs that Aegyir was approaching. Finn took up a position between the limestone cliff and the gorse bush. His hands were white from the tape around his knuckles, peeking out beneath the black of his jacket, and his face was etched with worry. He straightened, his attention locked on the path up from the field. Two figures approached. Rick and Stephen. I swallowed. I should have known that Stephen would come too, but it was an added complication I could do without.
Aegyir, still looking like Rick, stood before me, Stephen at his shoulder. My stomach knotted.
“Aeron. So glad that you came.” His eyes flicked over Finn who stood behind my left shoulder, about three steps away from me and closer to the gorse bush than me. “And you brought him along too. Thank you.”
Finn flexed his hands but kept his distance.
“I see no need for any pretence up here. We all know who I am and it’s tiresome to waste vitality on this.” The image of Rick dissolved from around Aegyir as he spoke, until what remained was a cadaverous figure, leathery skin stretched over bones, red glints in dark eyes, sinewy tendons showing clear along the backs of his hands. He wore a long leather coat that almost skimmed the ground, its collar standing up. Leather boots showed beneath it, and dark trousers. He seemed taller than I remembered, but maybe that was the fear.
I made my first mistake, right then.
Stephen moved away from Aegyir and came to stand between me and the rock face. I should have moved. I should have taken two paces closer to Aegyir but I was scared and I stayed where I was. Things could have been so different if I hadn’t.
I shifted my balance, aware of Stephen’s position. Finn moved so that he could protect me from either of them, but that took him closer to Aegyir than I wanted him to be and further from the sword. I wondered if Aegyir knew it was there somehow and instead of moving closer to Aegyir, I moved towards the gorse bush. When might I have to use the sword? To retrieve it too soon might be as big a disaster as retrieving it too late.
Aegyir faced me, the large boulder on his left, me between him and the gorse bush, Finn between him and Stephen. I scanned the ground. He stood on the area where I’d scattered the soil.
“Open the portal, Aeron. Invite me into The Realm.”
“I don’t know where it is. And I’m not Aeron.”
In the corner of my eye I saw Finn shift uneasily. Neither of us thought we could convince Aegyir that he was mistaken and the consequence of him realising I wasn’t Aeron could be lethal. It was worth a shot though.
Aegyir curled his thin lips. “Open the portal. You are standing right next to it. It’s four words, Aeron. I invite you in. Do it.”
Stephen took a step closer to me and Finn tracked him. The four of us were making an ever tighter knot and I willed Finn to take a pace back.
“Assuming I am Aeron, assuming I do that. Why would you go into the Realm? Wouldn’t the Guardians cut you to pieces?”
Aegyir laughed. “You really remember nothing. All those lives you have been forced to live out here must have wiped your memories. The invite doesn’t expire until I’m dispersed. You invite me in. I amass my army. I can pass through the portal whenever I want and I can take whoever I want with me.”
I needed Finn further away. I looked across at him and made the merest flick of my head to send him a pace further from danger. He gave me a face that asked if I was mad but eventually moved.
I made my second mistake.
I stepped backwards and grasped the hilt of the sword, the gorse thorns scratching my skin as I did so. Aegyir’s red eyes followed my movements, and he laughed. Stephen took a short stride towards me, his hand out as if to grab me. Finn shot forwards and Stephen’s arm dropped to his side. The four of us were no further apart from each other than a metre. Aegyir very deliberately took a step to the side. Off the area where the bag of soil had been scattered. My heart sank and my breathing juddered. I needed him back on the soil. I turned to Stephen.
“Back off. Don’t think I would hesitate for a moment over hacking you to bits with this.” I raised the sword towards him, half an eye on where Aegyir was. I really needed Finn further away.
“Enough!”
All of us turned to Aegyir who was pointing at Finn.
“I have given you a choice, Aeron. Open the portal or I kill Finn. Do you love him so little that you would let him die rather than betray The Realm? Are you going to choose to sacrifice him to protect the world that banished you all those lifetimes ago? Will you stand there and watch me rip the life out of him, rather than say four words?”
I launched myself at him, the sword whirling, but Stephen grabbed the back of my neck and yanked me almost off my feet. The sword cut no more than air. Aegyir turned, his face contorting with rage, his bony hand reaching towards Finn. I screamed, my heart stopping. Aegyir grasped Finn by the chin, his claw-like hands bunching the skin of Finn’s cheeks into ridges. Finn drove his fists into Aegyir’s midriff but he merely twisted Finn’s face in response.
“I would not do that if I were you, boy. Aeron is currently being held by Stephen, and Stephen is under my control.”
Aegyir straightened his arm, pushing Finn back so that his fists could no longer reach him, however hard he tried. Aegyir looked over to Stephen, who reached around and held a knife to my throat, the metal cold against my skin.
“Finn, stop,” I gasped.
He stilled immediately, though his eyes blazed with fury. Aegyir released his grip on him.
Immediately, I drove my elbow back into Stephen’s midriff as hard as I could, knocking the air out of him and making him release me. I followed this up with an uppercut that split his lip and a left-hook that made blood pour from his nose. Aegyir swivelled on the spot and marched towards me, hand outstretched. Back on to Realm soil.
My third mistake was to believe that Aegyir would attack me. I should have known that he wouldn’t. I should have stood my ground instead of stepping backwards. I should have let his hand touch my chest and prove the point that he wouldn’t harm me. But I didn’t. I recoiled and Finn… Finn who would protect me against anything, even the demons of hell, stepped forwards to put himself between me and Aegyir.
Time moved slowly, but things happened fast.
Aegyir reached into Finn’s chest as if the Kevlar didn’t exist. My che
st constricted, my heart shattering as I watched a ball of light coalesce around his fist and Finn begin to crumple. Panicked, I smashed backwards, stamping on Stephen, and lashed out with the sword. It cut cleanly through Aegyir’s outstretched arm, severing it from his body. The ball of light swirled and split, some tendrils entering Aegyir, some flowing back into Finn.
I howled as Finn’s legs buckled under him and he collapsed to the ground. The arm I’d cut off disintegrated into smoke and more smoke poured out of Aegyir’s shoulder. I launched myself at Aegyir, aiming the blade at his neck but he grabbed at it with his remaining hand, twisting it out of my grasp and tossing it away. Behind me, Stephen was getting to his feet. Aegyir held his hand out to Stephen, palm out and he froze.
“Perhaps now you will open the portal.”
“Never!” I scrambled for the sword, shoulder-barging Aegyir out of the way to get it. He was no longer on the scattered soil but I was beyond reason. The sword was beautifully balanced in my hand and I whirled it, slashing into Aegyir’s body. Smoke gushed forth.
Aegyir stumbled backwards, eyes burning. I scanned him. Vitality flowed from his wounds, thin streams of light dissipating into the air. What could he do to me now? Nothing.
“Kill her?” said Stephen, still standing a few feet away from me.
I turned, gripping the sword firmly. “Bring it on. I’m more than happy to show you both what I can do.” I would happily have slaughtered both of them.
Aegyir straightened. “No. Let her realise what she has done. We all knew he would protect you at any cost. I could not have taken your vitality, even if I had no further use for you, Aeron. You are a Guardian, even if you do not remember it. I hope The Realm is grateful.”
“I will never open the portal for you. Never!”
He smiled beatifically. “Oh. I think you will.”
I ran to Finn and held him against me. “Finn! Finn?”
He was unresponsive.
Aegyir beckoned Stephen to him. “Come. Let us leave Aeron to contemplate the consequences of her decision.”
The two of them strode back down the hill, while the man I loved lay cradled in my arms. Dying.
I had failed.
19
“Finn?”
He was crumpled in a heap, unconscious, his eyes open but unseeing. I slapped his cheek lightly. “Finn? Finn?”
He came round and blinked groggily. “What the hell?” He passed a hand over his brow.
“Are you okay?” I searched his face frantically. He was the colour of a snowdrift.
“Yeah… No… I feel like shit. It felt so weird. Like it was sucking strength out of me.”
Tears poured down my face. His eyes fluttered shut, and my heart almost stopped.
“Finn?” Panic rippled through my voice.
He felt around until his hand found me and he patted at me. “Hey! It’s okay. He didn’t kill me. You stopped him.”
I swallowed down sobs. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” My voice mangled in my throat.
Finn started to get to his feet. Almost immediately, his legs gave way underneath him and he hit the turf again with a thud.
“Finn? You okay?”
He breathed deeply, scowling. “You’re gonna need to help me. My legs are rubbish.”
I squatted next to him, draped his arm around my shoulders and wrapped my arm around his waist. We stood slowly, Finn needing a moment to steady himself. Thank God I was as tall as I was. Anyone smaller than me would struggle to hold him up.
“Okay?” My heart was breaking into a thousand pieces.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine, Rea. He didn’t kill me. You chopped his arm off.” He kissed me. “Thank you.”
There was nothing I could say. I picked the sword up, though what exactly I thought I was going to do with it, I don’t know.
Finn shuffled towards the path. “We’re not gonna be breaking any speed records. Sorry.”
“Sh. It’s okay. Take your time.”
It felt like forever before we made it back to the cottage, Finn apologising all the way. I was grateful for the lights from the cottages to guide us, as it was long after sundown by the time we were crossing the farmer’s field. When we got home, Finn sank down on the sofa.
“Jaysus, I feel shit.” He clasped his head in his hands, his colour shifting from snow-white to a grubbier grey colour. “Can you get me some water?”
As soon as I entered the kitchen, my temper flared. Sitting on the table were a flat leather pouch, and a ceramic vessel about the size of a biscuit barrel. I flipped open the pouch, even though I knew exactly what would be in it. Three daggers.
Frustration billowed out of me in a primal scream. I hurled the daggers and the pot across the room with as much force as I could muster. The pot landed with a hollow ringing sound and the lid came off, but neither part broke. The daggers spilled from the pouch and clattered across the floor.
“Rea? You okay?” called Finn, alarm in his voice.
I took a glass of water through, unable to contain all the emotions that were battering me. “Oh, yeah. I’m just fine. The love of my life has been attacked by a demon I spectacularly failed to kill and in the kitchen are three fucking daggers and a pot!”
I sank down next to him.
“He didn’t kill me,” said Finn, soothingly.
My breathing juddered in my chest.
He had. He just hadn’t died yet. Should I tell him? Would it be better to know? Or to believe it was all okay, when it wasn’t?
“I’m calling an ambulance,” I said. He opened his mouth to protest but I held my hand up. “No. No arguments.”
Half an hour later, the paramedics had been and gone. They’d checked Finn over, measured his blood pressure (low), taken an ECG (normal) and asked repeatedly if he’d been on the bike when he collapsed. I told them he was only in his motorbike clothes because they were warm.
“Keep an eye on him. Call us out again if he gets worse. Call the doctor in the morning. I suspect he’s got flu. There’s a lot of it about,” said the paramedic as he finished and peeled off his gloves. “There’s nothing we can do for him and he’s not ill enough to take up a hospital bed. Rest, fluids and paracetamol.”
“Okay.”
I don’t know what I’d hoped they would be able to do. Give him a vitality transfusion? I thanked them and showed them out.
Back in the lounge, I sat next to Finn on the sofa, brushing back his hair and peering at him. “Will you manage any dinner?”
“No. I just want to grab a shower and go to bed I think.”
He stood up and swayed, putting his hand out to steady himself.
“Are you going to manage a shower?”
“You gonna come and help?” he said, shooting me a raunchy glance.
“Yeah, if you need me to.”
He straightened, his skin ashen, and reached out to catch hold of my shoulder for support. I ducked under his arm to walk him up the stairs to the bathroom. It took all my acting skills not to look devastated. I shepherded him into the bathroom and helped him to perch on the edge of the bath.
The paramedics had already got him out of his Kevlar jacket and leather trousers, leaving him in socks, shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt.
“I’m going to run you a bath,” I said. “You’re not going to manage to stand.”
I ran a hot bath for him with a good squirt of shower gel in it and then helped him until he was lying in it, his knees poking out but the rest of him up to his neck in foamy water. I let him soak for a bit before offering to wash his back. He leaned forwards on to his knees and I soaped his shoulders, tracing out his dragon.
“Can you just do all of me? I can’t even lift the soap,” he said, scrunching his face up at me.
“That’s a really rubbish chat-up line.”
He laughed. “That boat’s sailed.”
I pulled his towel down from the rail and held it out to him. I’d never seen him so miserable before.
Up, he wrapped
the towel around him, shivering. The bedroom was chilly and Finn’s flesh sprang up into goose bumps. I hustled him towards the bed and found him some clean boxer shorts and a t-shirt.
“Hot water bottle?” I asked as I tucked him under the duvet.
“Thanks.”
By the time I returned with a hot water bottle, Finn was asleep. I nestled the bottle near his chest, my heart ripping apart.
I had done this to him. I had killed him. The man I loved the most in the world.
I wanted to spend every second I could with him, but I also needed to let my emotion out and I didn’t want to wake him or for him to see what I knew. He thought he would be okay. Maybe he would be. Maybe I was wrong. Either way, he didn’t need to see me fall apart. I went back downstairs to the lounge, poured myself a serious measure of vodka, added the smallest splash of orange juice and bawled my eyes out until I was spent.
The events replayed in my head in a non-stop loop – the shifting positions of everyone; Finn’s protectiveness taking him into the firing line; Aegyir reaching into his chest; the ball of light fracturing.
Had enough flowed back into Finn? Would he survive?
20
Neither of us slept well that night. I joined Finn in bed, either curling up against him while he shivered, or sitting wrapped in a spare blanket, reading the book while he slept. His eyes darted back and forth beneath his lids, his dreams wracked with angst, and he tossed and turned and moaned or cried out all night. When I finally abandoned the book and slept, my dreams rotated through nightmare after nightmare – the two men saying it was all my fault and that I was a traitor, Stephen’s attack, and what had happened on the hillside.
I’d hoped that somewhere in the book there would be something that would help, that would tell me how to save Finn. There wasn’t. I scoured every tale in it, yearning to find out what happened if a connection between Aegyir and his victim was severed before all their vitality had been taken. But the stories were the same stories they’d been when I first read them and none of them offered even a crumb of comfort. Maybe there was nothing in the book because no one had chopped a demon’s arm off and broken the connection mid-assault before.
