Druid Master: A Druidverse Urban Fantasy Novel (The Colin McCool Paranormal Suspense Series Book 12)

by M. D. Massey

  I trained my eyes on the steadily advancing masses of undead that were making their slow, inexorable march toward our position. From this distance, it was difficult to make out individuals, as the lot of them looked like a roiling sea of gray, rotting flesh. But when they were halfway across the valley, I began to note disturbances cropping up among their ranks, small areas where the undead mass seemed to part, like bubbles on the surface of a boiling stew.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  Hemi stood by, arms crossed with a smirk on his face. “You asked, I delivered.”

  “He’s animated hundreds of the skeletons Tethra left to decorate his killing fields,” Mom said. “Being undead creatures themselves, Fuamnach’s creations won’t attack them directly, as they are mistaking the lout’s creations for their own number.”

  I cast a cantrip to enhance my Fomorian vision further, allowing me to zoom in on the disturbances nearest to our position. Just as Leanne said, skeletons had clawed their way out of the earth to attack Fuamnach’s forces.

  There were graceful, thin skeletons, representing the high fae who’d come here to challenge Tethra over the years and failed; tall, stocky skeletons, likely the remains of ettins or some other giant race; and normal-looking skeletons, which I could only assume were members of Oisín’s fiann who’d attempted to take back this land from its former Fomorian master.

  Some carried swords, maces, and spears, while others fought barehanded. In either case, they ran amok through the zombie horde, dismembering and crippling their enemy counterparts as they went. Yet, their numbers were hardly enough to make a dent in the enemy’s shock troops, and for every zombie or ghoul they stopped, dozens more marched onward.

  Up on the cliffs, more undead swarmed out of the portals that led to Fuamnach’s lands, streaming through the clifftop gates and down to join their brethren on the valley floor. It was a neverending stream of corpses, and where the bitch was getting them to animate, I’d never know. What I did know was that she’d been preparing for something like this for some time. It would have taken centuries to raise that many corpses from the dead.

  Fucking gods, always playing the long game.

  “Enough,” I said, chopping my hand in the air. “Start using those ballistae and catapults.”

  Hemi whistled a signal, and a nearby member of Oisín’s fiann blew a horn. Soon teams of fénnid had dozens of the war machines in play, sending flaming, pitch covered boulders and exploding, telephone-sized bolts down on the valley below. The machines took a toll, smashing the dead and sending pieces of them flying across the fields, but they kept streaming from the cliffs just the same.

  “Fuck! Does anyone know how to close those portals?” I asked.

  “Kill the one who cast them,” Mother replied.

  “Well, that’s about as helpful as a papier-mâché codpiece,” I snapped. “Hemi, have your teams aim the catapults at the cliffs. If we can’t close the portals, maybe we can bury them.”

  “She will merely open more,” Leanne remarked.

  “Fucking hell, Mother—are you good for anything more than being negative? I mean, really, can you at least provide some sort of constructive advice that might help us turn the tide of this battle?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes. Get me close to one of those Tuath Dé whores, and my axe will end this conflict.”

  I scowled at her, shaking my head. “If that was the case, you’d have already done so. But don’t worry, you’ll soon get your chance.”

  Down below, the zombie horde had nearly reached the walls. As the leading edge of the swarm reached Ana’s kill zone, mines exploded, obliterating dozens of the dead at a time. As with our other methods, the munitions barely made a dent in the huge multitude of undead, and soon they were pressing against the fortress walls.

  Like a colony of ants, the zombies and ghouls crawled atop one another, pressing the first wave down in a layer that allowed the next ranks to climb. Now that they could sense the presence of human flesh atop the walls, they loped, staggered, and ran ahead recklessly, creating a ramp of rotting corpses as they went.

  Soon the writhing mass was halfway to the top of the wall, and the stench wafting upward was overpowering, causing many of the fénnid to gag. Me, I was used to it, but I swallowed bile just the same knowing what was going to happen when that horde reached the top of the wall. We’d be overrun, and the dead would feast on living flesh.

  While Hemi directed the siege engine crews to start rolling boulders off the walls, Mother called down to the remaining troops that waited on the stairs leading up to the battlements. Celtic warriors gripped spears, swords, and shields, licking their lips and eyeing the crenellations above nervously, waiting for that first breach. Red caps fingered their long, sharp knives, stamping back and forth from foot to foot in time.

  Further down the wall, Guts and his warriors chanted an inane rhyme that went something like, “Slash and cuts, stomp your nuts, Toothshank Clan will eat your guts!” I guess now I knew where Guts got his name. I’d fought alongside them before, and they weren’t fucking kidding either.

  Oscar, Plúr, and Oisín commanded troops elsewhere, each of them responsible for guarding a sector related to one of the cardinal points of the mile-long wall. The Cryptids stayed hidden nearby, watching to ensure that my mate remained safe. Luther and his guards lay in wait within the fortress, should any creature wander within. And somewhere up on the mountain, the valkyries waited silently for just the right moment to appear.

  As for me, I summoned several fireballs and cast an improved bark-skin spell on myself. This version was a thin, flexible weave of plant fibers and spider-silk that worked a hell of a lot like Kevlar, except it was self-healing—perfect for preventing infection via zombie bites. Once prepared, I leaned out over the edge of the wall and cut loose with spells from both hands.

  We’d been repelling the dead for half an hour when I heard Mother yell from further down the wall. “Look, son—they send the second wave.”

  I blew a zombie’s head to bits with the Benelli and kicked it off the wall, then I leaned over and scorched the section of wall below with druid fire. That gave me enough time to look across the valley, where about three hundred armored giants were jogging in formation toward the fortress. As they ran, they smashed zombie corpses and skeletons alike beneath their feet. Soon, the thunderous cadence of their steps echoed up to us from the valley floor.

  “Hemi, start picking those fuckers off with the siege engines,” I yelled.

  “Can’t,” he hollered back as he laid waste to the undead with his tewhatewha, a massive wooden club that glowed blue to match his ink. “We’re out of ammo.”

  “Ah, hell,” I cursed. I’d wasted most of my ammo already, blowing through the .45 ACP and 5.56 in the first ten minutes after the dead came over the wall. I tried tossing some magic at the giants, but either Fuamnach or Badb blocked my attacks. Out of frustration, I emptied the shottie at them, hitting one or two with little effect.

  By that point, the lead ranks of the battalion of giants had reached the lower end of the ramp of dead bodies. They struggled at first, as the corpses gave and slid beneath their massive feet when they attempted to climb the mountain of rotting flesh. But as the first row climbed a few feet of the ramp, they packed the zombies and ghouls down enough to allow the subsequent ranks to ascend that more easily.

  “Do we have archers?” I asked. Someone shouted in the affirmative. “Well, then, have them start shooting the fucking giants!”

  Within moments, we had a line of several dozen archers along the wall. The Celts hadn’t been big on archery, preferring the sling over other projectile weapons, so their numbers were much lower than I’d hoped. As the first volley of arrows fell among the advancing ranks of giant-kind, the result was less than impressive. Mostly, the giants just covered their eyes with their arms, then they ignored the arrows sticking out of their flesh.

  I was just about to go Hyde-side when I saw a giant�
�s head explode in a spray of brain matter and pulverized skull. The resounding crack of a rifle report echoed soon after, following in rapid succession by several more shots that had equally impressive results.

  “That’s Kreshnik on the Barrett, up in one of the towers,” Fallyn said as she appeared at my side. She was covered in blood and zombie goo, and she was smiling like a kid at Disneyland. “I’ve seen him reach a rate of fire close to fifty rounds a minute. The only thing that slows him down is having to change mags and barrels.”

  Sure as hell, the ’thrope was dropping ten-foot-tall bodies like paid actors at a Benny Hinn convention. Before the giants got halfway up the wall, he’d thinned out their ranks enough to force them into a hasty retreat. By the time they’d reached the ground again, they’d lost a hundred of their number or more.

  After that, I signaled the Valkyries to fly down and take care of the remaining giants. They did as I asked, swooping in to lop off arms and heads like the avenging angels they resembled. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, and the rest of the giants were devastated by the Valkyries’ magic and steel. Once finished, they flew back to the mountain’s peak, where they would wait for the opportunity to battle Badb.

  That’s when I saw Fuamnach floating across the killing fields on a long, dark mass of shadow that trailed off like smoke behind her. I looked down the wall at the mass of zombies that were still trying to get inside the keep. Then, I glanced left and right to observe the death toll thus far.

  All along the ramparts, human, troll, and fae bodies were strewn among the dismembered and charred remains of the undead. While our losses weren’t as severe as those of the enemy, I had to remind myself that ours were permanent, while Fuamnach could simply raise more troops. And all this time, she and Badb had been wearing me down, forcing me to defend the fortress to soften me up for the kill.

  Fuamnach stopped maybe a city block’s distance from the keep, hovering at a height that was even with the top of the wall where I stood. She was attractive yet severe-looking, with her pale skin, Romanesque nose, strong jawline, and permanent, self-assured sneer. Oddly, she wore a black, off-shoulder layered trumpet dress with a plunging neckline, a fitted bodice, and a slit that ran all the way up her left thigh. Yet, instead of looking ridiculous in such a dramatic outfit, she wore it like a second skin.

  “Gives dressed to kill a whole new meaning,” Hemi muttered.

  “Pfft, please. Who wears a dress to do battle?” Fallyn replied. “And what is it with you and older women?”

  Hemi shrugged in response. I ignored them both, keeping my eyes on Fuamnach.

  “McCool,” she said in a magically-amplified voice. “Let us parley, and avoid more death.”

  “Like you care who lives and dies,” I shouted. “Speaking of death, the Fear Doirich is a pile of ash. Turns out the new body you gave him wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

  “I concluded as much,” she replied coolly. “If he were alive, you would not be here. Believe me when I say that you will pay dearly for his death.”

  “Ah, so you two were bumping nasties. Gross. I mean, the guy was basically a lich.” I paused dramatically before continuing. “Oh, now I get it—you’re into that. So that’s why you’re all about the necromancy. Disgusting, but to each their own, I guess.”

  “Give up, druid, while you still can,” the sorceress hissed in her sandpaper and silk voice as her expression darkened. “Do so, and we will make your death swift, allowing your followers to leave unharmed.”

  I remembered what Lugh had told me and laughed. “As if. Eat shit, you two-bit, disease-riddled whore.”

  “Wow, tell us how you really feel,” Fallyn said under her breath.

  Fuamnach’s sneer deepened, if that were possible. “Have it your way, then. When you’re being flayed alive in my dungeons over the course of many centuries, don’t say we didn’t offer you the opportunity for surrender.”

  21

  Fuamnach floated away to a distance of about a half-mile. She raised her arms to the sides like a conductor leading an orchestra, and dark clouds gathered in the skies behind her. Soon, lightning began to flash within the thunderhead she’d formed, and the ominous, nearly black cloud bank began to drift toward us.

  Down below, more giants had arrived across the killing fields. Several hundred of them were forming up as if to take another run at the fortress.

  “I don’t like this,” I said to Fallyn. “Tell Kreshnik and Seok to take cover.”

  “Don’t worry, they’re already gone,” Fallyn said. “Maybe it’s time for us to do the same.”

  Seconds later, the first lightning strike hit the tower where Kreshnik had set up his sniper’s nest. I’d thrown some serious lightning bolts in my time, but this one was the strike to end all strikes. The shaft that arced off the tower had to be ten feet across, and when it struck it shattered the parapet to pieces, sending shards of stone flying in all directions.

  More strikes hit the wall at random intervals, each connecting with the impact of a rocket-propelled grenade. Soon the front wall was in chaos, with men, trolls, and fae running to and fro to find shelter. Where the lightning struck, it left craters of melted stone peppered with the scorched remains of the troops that had been unfortunate enough to be near the strike zone.

  I felt the electricity coming before it struck, as an itch underneath my armor that was caused by something other than sweat and chafe. In a burst of superhuman speed, I hit Fallyn in a tackle, hard enough to force the air from her lungs as I carried her twenty feet out of the way. The spot where we’d stood moments earlier shattered, and sharp bits of stone hit me from behind as I set Fallyn down.

  “Time for you to go, alpha,” I said. I could barely hear myself due to the ringing in my ears from the blast. “This part of the battle is beyond your abilities.”

  “No way, I’m staying here with you,” she countered.

  “Nope. Besides, your team is going to be needed in the courtyard to organize the retreat before we’re overrun. Send everyone into the tunnels, and have Ana collapse the entrances behind you. That’ll at least give you some time.”

  The look of indecision on her face was soon replaced by resignation. “And what are you going to do?”

  “Me? I’m going to hold them off until the calvary arrives.” Before Fallyn could protest, I made a lasso motion over my head and shouted toward the inner wall. “Larry, it’s time.”

  “On it, chief,” Larry yelled from somewhere close by. “Moe, initiate contingency plan alpha six. Go, go, go!”

  Larry’s response was a bit dramatic, but the results were satisfactory. Just as I sensed another lightning strike coming, a black blur shot down from the sky, swooping past to carry Fallyn off the wall to safety. The others would converge on Moe’s position once he and Fallyn hit the ground, then they’d stick close by to watch her back as the battle progressed.

  Now that she’s safe, it’s time to deal with Fuamnach.

  I was already sprinting away as the next lightning blast landed, and while the timing was close, I suffered little damage. Instead of heading off the wall, I dashed to the same spot Fuamnach had struck moments before. There I stood, staring in defiance and preparing for her next attack.

  Fuamnach might’ve been my superior when it came to magic, but it was sheer hubris to use an elemental attack against a druid. Seconds later, the next attack homed in on my outstretched hand like a lightning rod, scorching the armor from my fingers as it entered my body. Instead of letting it blast me to bits, I used my body as a conduit, absorbing and redirecting the electricity out my other arm at the battalion of giants marching across the valley below.

  The energy the sorceress had directed into that blast was substantial, to say the least. Where it hit a half-dozen of her troops were vaporized, and a dozen more lay still on the ground, either unconscious or dead. Many more staggered and swayed drunkenly, disoriented by the blast, yet a few hundred of their number continued to march on.

  After
seeing the damage I’d done, I was tempted to send more lightning strikes toward them, but I needed to keep my eyes on Fuamnach. Her voice carried across the space between us, amplified and focused by magic for my ears alone.

  “You’ve come a long way since you were that sniveling boy who snuck into my keep to steal the Lia Fáil,” she said in a silky-smooth, almost soothing voice that dripped with honey and magic. “Such a vast increase in power in a short period of time. I wonder how you did it. Perhaps you’d like to tell me, and share the location of the groves you’ve planted, here and on Earth?”

  Nope, not falling for that again.

  I shrugged off the effects of her glamour and spat off the wall. “Meh, I think not. How about you fuck off back to your Magic Mountain in Underhill, and we’ll call it even?”

  Fuamnach replied with a tension in her voice that hadn’t been there moments before. “You’re not as strong as you think you are, whelp. A few decades of study in a druid’s grove won’t give you the knowledge to defeat a sorceress of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

  The tough, fibrous outer layer of my armor made a skritching sound as I crossed my arms over my chest. “True, very true,” I said, nodding in acquiescence. “But Badb isn’t the only one with friends in low places.”

  I pointed across the valley to my left, where a large circular portal had opened in the cliff wall. Through that portal came a reptilian creature that was easily the size of a baseball diamond in girth. With the head, legs, and tail of a dragon and the shell of a turtle, there was no doubt who the dark, hooded, cackling figure straddling its neck could be.

  The turtle-dragon craned its head skyward as it belched a cone of green, poisonous gas at Fuamnach. The lime-colored cloud enveloped the Dark Sorceress and the puff of shadow on which she floated, and Peg Powler crowed in triumph.

  “Uppity witch, always looking down at me from your castle on high,” she ranted as her turtle-dragon marched forward, belching a deadly fog of doom as it advanced. “Well, ol’ Peg Powler has the upper hand now. How d’ya like that, ya’ blackhearted, poxy twat?”