The Shattered Mirror (Winter's Blight Book 4)

by M. C. Aquila

  Several giant wolves the size of some of the military trucks loped ahead, fangs bared, but vanished before they met the Seelies’ first defensive line. The Seelie faeries had fallen back to defend the wavering barrier, though there were no gaps in the magic large enough for all the monsters to slip through. Alan climbed out of the tank, holding on to the handle on the side, signaled for the squadron commanders to ready formation for battle, and unwrapped his arm from the cloth.

  The Unseelie whispers rattled through his head, flashing images of the barrier’s destruction and of Seelie blood soaking the earth. Alan stretched out his blackened, clawed hand, frost rising as the crystals glittered darkly. The Shadow Magic the crystals had absorbed leaped from around General Callaghan and swarmed toward the barrier. It gnawed and ate away at the Light Magic, and suddenly the wavering barrier flashed with blue light as it was torn open in slashes all across the surface, wide enough for all the monsters and the army to fit through.

  The waiting Unseelie monsters surged forward to pour inside the realm, roaring and howling. The Iron Guard advanced as well, aiming to take on the Seelie forces methodically while the Winter Court created chaos.

  The last dregs of the magic left the Unseelie crystal, leaving it desperate for more. The crystals that formed the claws clicked and shifted, searching for flesh and blood to absorb, and if Alan did not find another source, the Unseelie magic would tear farther up his arm, decaying as it went.

  Most of the Seelie forces were defending the barrier as Unseelie monsters swarmed the wounds in the magic like hordes of flies while a group of Noble faeries raced to an offensive position. With a roar of wind, or in flashes of fire, Seelie faeries materialized in the sky above, landing in the midst of the Iron Guard’s formation and assaulting them with waves of magic, slicing their weapons with paper-thin blades of water or shocks of light that blinded the soldiers. A faery soldier landed, and Earth Magic sprang up in front of General Callaghan’s tank, halting it.

  Alan grabbed the machine gun attached to the top of the tank, ducking down for cover, and fired at the Seelie faery. The faery was caught off guard, taking a bullet to the shoulder, but deflected most of the rounds with a gust of Wind Magic. The moment the faery leaped on top of the tank, drawing a sword, perhaps seeking to open the hatch, Alan climbed up and attacked.

  The faery swung his sword, but Alan caught it solidly in his hand—the crystals shifting around it and snapping the metal in half. The faery was shocked for one precious second, and Alan stunned him with a blow to the throat with the stock of the gun and then plunged the Unseelie claws into the faery’s torso. The claws went deep with a cracking sound, tearing through sinew and flesh, breaking bone, the magic surging as it drained the Seelie’s blood.

  The Seelie’s eyes went wide before they rolled back. As the blood gushed from the chest wound, running down Alan’s hand, he felt the life of the faery drain into the crystal. The Unseelie crystals absorbed the faery’s magic in a frenzy, and images flickered in his vision.

  Visions of summer… the Summer Court, warm as sunlight… Seelie Fae, their magic—

  Ignoring the images, Alan pulled the claws free of the faery’s corpse. The body fell limp on the ground, a hole torn through it. The Unseelie crystal shuddered, full of magic but not slaked for carnage.

  The army pushed onward even as the area erupted with skirmishes, the machine disrupting magic attacks sporadically as they went. Most of the Noble faeries defending the fractures in the barrier had taken to the air.

  But there was a soldier among them who was unmistakably human.

  The young man stood in front of one of the tears in the barrier, facing down a horde of incoming Unseelie hounds, armed with nothing but a faery sword. Distant familiarity stirred in Alan’s chest as he studied the soldier’s dark olive skin, wavy brown hair, and determined expression.

  Iain was shouting something to the Seelies above him, and as the hounds approached, the faeries summoned a wall of Fire Magic in front of him about ten feet across as he dove out of the way. It instantly scorched the hounds, who had an aversion to fire, but a lithe Unseelie dwarf leaped through the wall of flames unscathed.

  Upon catching the scent of human flesh, the dwarf turned to see Iain and attacked. The Unseelie faery was armed with a cudgel made of bones roped and fused together—human bones, from the look of it. Alan was unable to turn away, feeling as though he was looking back at himself as a reckless young soldier years ago.

  Iain wielded the blade as if he had been training with it for a while—it was not a skill the Iron Wardens had taught him. When the dwarf swung the club down to try to crush Iain’s foot, he exposed his throat long enough for Iain to strike. He slashed swiftly with the faery blade, cutting deep into flesh and bone. The dwarf’s body crumpled to the forest floor, beheaded.

  The young man looked up, alert as the Iron Guard’s advance, as well as the Seelie army’s defense, was halted as a piercing, half-human growl sounded from the forest behind them. A great white wolf lunged from the tree line, snapping saplings like twigs beneath its massive paws. A pack of four smaller wolves followed behind as the wolf leaped into the battlefield. All five beasts had bloody backs but were otherwise untouched.

  The wolf paid no mind to those in his way as he headed straight for the largest gap in the barrier, trampling those who could not move in time—and Iain was standing with the Seelies directly in the creature’s way.

  He won’t be able to get out of the way in time.

  When they saw the wolf heading for them, the Seelie faeries around the opening threw everything they had at the beast, but the monster lashed out at them, deflecting their magical attacks and snapping at the faeries above him with blackened, oozing teeth. The faeries were able to avoid him, rushing out of its path with their magic, but Iain couldn’t.

  At the last moment, a Seelie faery sent a burst of Wind Magic, knocking Iain out of the way of the thundering paws.

  The Seelies… they protected him.

  The faeries recovered instantly, a few pursuing the wolves, but Iain was sent rolling across the ground a few feet away. After a moment, the young man pushed himself to his feet, picked up his sword, and went back to fighting by the Seelie faeries’ side, taking on an Unseelie hound.

  But the monsters would overwhelm them soon. It did not matter how determined Iain was to stop them. Unless the Unseelies are stopped. Unless I do something.

  At that thought, a pang shot through his arm as the crystals shifted hungrily, angrily. The Unseelie magic wanted more blood than what was still dripping from the claws.

  It’s not just Seelie blood it wants… If the barrier breaks and that bomb falls, the Unseelies will absorb the fallout and radiation to become stronger, and the only thing standing in their way now is…

  With Seelie blood dripping from his hand, with the magic surging through the crystals, it was unclear what the Seelie Fae wanted. What was clear was that they did not hunger for human destruction. Not like how the Unseelies craved and needed it to survive. That was the only distinction Alan could trust.

  More monsters slipped into the fracture in the barrier like an oil spill, tainting everything, while the Iron Guard fought the Seelie Fae. Iain fought the wave of Unseelie monsters, not caring how hopeless the fight seemed.

  Alan balked. Again he saw himself standing in front of the Winter King—terribly human in the face of a true monster, with nothing to lose. He hadn’t known there existed anything beyond the desolation of the Winter Court—beyond the desolation that lived inside him every day.

  Then he had met Kallista, and he did not have to live as if he’d died with everyone else in the bombing anymore. He could live a life. And for a time, he had renounced his bargain with the Winter Court. Until the Winter King unleashed monsters on the whole country. By then, Alan had everything to lose and lost it by his own hand: the infant son he’d sacrificed, the firstborn son he’d raised to be a weapon of war, and the wife who had left without a word. The wife w
ho had flinched away from his monstrous touch.

  Before the spark of humanity and clarity could fade, with a flex of his clawed hand as the crystals thirsted for human blood, General Callaghan looked to the men of his squadron who were preparing to fight the Seelie Court. “I’m issuing new orders, and I want them spread to every squadron at once,” he ordered firmly, beginning to walk to a nearby cargo truck. “We’re turning our fire on the Unseelie monsters.”

  A few soldiers exchanged glances. “General Callaghan?”

  Alan entered the back of the truck and returned with a flamethrower. “Our new objective is to eliminate and drive back the Unseelie forces,” he said, thrusting the weapon at the squadron commander. “If the Seelie Fae fight us or get in our way, then so be it. But the biggest threat to humanity needs to be eliminated now. Turn your fire on the Unseelie monsters.”

  The soldiers turned their fire on the Winter Court’s beasts, and for a moment there was chaos as his orders spread from squadron to squadron. Some who might have rebelled or questioned the sudden change complied when, after the soldiers fought the Unseelies in earnest, the monsters turned on them.

  The Seelies were quick on the uptake. Once they saw the human soldiers being attacked, they eagerly turned all their attention on the Unseelies.

  Alan remained at his post, seeing Iain halting, hesitating at the change in the battle’s tides. Then he joined the fray again—soon having a moment to speak with a couple of soldiers whom he helped to kill a Red Cap, who pointed to Alan. As the fight continued, his son fought with renewed vigor.

  As his pulse quickened, the spark of humanity burning in his chest, the Unseelie magic ripped into Alan’s flesh. He fell to his knees, panting as pain blinded him. The magic surged up his arm, past his elbow, decaying and rending, dead flesh flaking away from the wounds as the crystals burst through.

  He struggled to his feet, armed with a handgun and an iron baton. As he headed away from the battlefield, the Unseelie magic under his skin threatened in whispers to devour him if he didn’t turn back.

  “Fine then,” he muttered dryly. “You can whisper all you want. It won’t bloody change my orders.”

  Ignoring the pain, he walked with purpose into the woods, away from the battle where he would only serve as a hindrance now. He knew Kallista was connected to him now and that she would be suffering just as much.

  He had to get to her before the Unseelies found Kallista.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The gazebo was dark when Deirdre and Alvey hurried into the clearing. In the distance, around the borders of the realm, they could already hear the sounds of battle—the roaring and groaning of the earth, cries of anger and pain, and the sound of whirlwinds and pelting rain. A storm was brewing overhead, the skies full of dark clouds and rumbling thunder.

  As they reached the building’s threshold, Deirdre halted with a gasp at the entrance to see Sybil on the ground, her usually tan skin pale.

  “Mother, get up!” Alvey cried, rolling over, lowering her chair, and shaking her mother’s shoulder. “Mother, you must fix the barrier! Hurry! Get your drachma and…” Alvey’s head snapped up, and she sniffed the air before asking Deirdre, “Do you see a hand mirror anywhere? It should be hanging on a wall or on a counter or table.”

  Stepping in, Deirdre searched the room, hastily lifting and tossing aside pillows and blankets. “I don’t see any mirrors. Does she need her drachma?”

  “All faeries do, especially when they’re injured or… or confused.” Alvey shook her mother again, her voice pitching high and frightened. “Mummy, please! I think monsters have entered. We must go!”

  Sybil twitched, then, clenching her fists, sat up with a groan and shook her head experimentally. “What is wrong, dear? What…?” She trailed off, turning paler as she saw Deirdre, who looked down, tracing circles on the floor.

  “We have to go. There are monsters because the barrier is broken! Where is your drachma?” Alvey asked, cranking her chair back up.

  “Monsters?” Sybil lifted her arms, and the wind immediately snaked into the room in response, rustling the blankets and tossing their hair. Sybil listened to its whispers, her mouth a firm line. “You spoke truly, Alvey.”

  “Where is your drachma?” Alvey repeated, yanking on her mother’s cloak.

  Sybil lowered her arms and the breeze died. “It is broken.” She inhaled shakily, closing her eyes. “Broken beyond repair.” Her expression and voice were so full of anguish it was as though she was speaking of a loved one’s death.

  “Do you know where it is?” Deirdre asked. Sybil looked at her in surprise, taking a step back, but Deirdre forced herself to continue. “Please, maybe we can fix it somehow.”

  “No. You must… be too young to have a drachma.” Sybil strode out of the gazebo, pushing Alvey’s chair along hastily. “A faery cannot be wrong about the state of her drachma.”

  “Who or what broke it?” Alvey asked.

  “I do not know. I was… not in my right mind when it was taken.” Sybil lifted a hand and sent flashes of light darting dozens of directions into the woods and into the sky. In reply, faeries, most tree or animal-like, appeared from the woods, hastening to follow Sybil and Alvey. A couple of tiny Seelie dwarves, gnomelike, fell in pace beside Deirdre. One, old with white hair and wrinkled skin like damaged shale, looked up at her with concerned eyes and respectfully nodded when Deirdre smiled at him.

  “Do you think we’ll be able to outmaneuver the monsters?” Deirdre asked, gulping.

  “I…” Sybil let out a long breath, kneading her forehead, slowing. When Alvey reached up and held her free hand, her mother continued in a low voice. “The wind says most of them are intent on just wreaking havoc around the border. Some are charging inside, in this direction. But it will take some time before they arrive, as we are not near the border. So we must—”

  A furious roar ripped through the woods, making them all turn. Any birdlike faeries on the ground immediately took to the skies in alarm, though didn’t flee.

  “I-I do not sense or smell anything there!” Alvey’s voice pitched high in alarm.

  Sybil barely nodded in agreement, trembling, eyes wide with fear like a cornered animal.

  The trees were torn aside by gigantic claws, the size of two people, as an enormous wolf barged into the clearing. The beast was so white, like bone, it was hard to look at, especially as its black and gray pack swarmed around it. They were not quite as large but were growling and snarling, their muzzles frothing with blood.

  “I am not hallucinating those wolves, am I?” Sybil whispered. Alvey squeaked in reply, but Deirdre was frozen, silent. The smaller wolves slowly circled them. Their bloodshot eyes raked over their prey at random, clearly eager to tear into anything.

  But the enormous white wolf did not move, staying at the edge of the torn trees, ears up, slowly leaning forward on its haunches to spring. She could see its back was dotted with blood, surrounding dirty brown marks—

  “Is that iron?” Deirdre whispered.

  The white wolf parted its massive jaws and let out a low half-beast, half-human chuckle before speaking in a level voice. “Yes, it is, little faery. You’re Deirdre, aren’t you? You smell…” It bared its horrible fangs in a mockery of a smile. “Weak.”

  In reply, Sybil summoned waves of light, which swept around them and the other Seelie faeries. Snarling, the wolves leaped forward and attacked the light, their teeth black with ink-like magic that bubbled. It turned the light black and, when it dripped onto the ground, wilted the plants into a steaming mess, sending up a stench that made Deirdre scramble backward, gagging.

  Sybil shouted over the chaos for the Seelies to attack, then planted her fist on the ground and sent up sharp stalagmites. Some skewered one of the wolves while the others dodged nimbly, the white wolf moving with alarming speed for its size. At the same time, the Seelie Fae leaped or flew over the waves of light and attacked the small wolves, using magic, beaks, claws, and teeth—a bloo
dy melee erupted.

  Deirdre staggered back into Alvey’s chair, and the younger girl grabbed her wrist hard with a shaking hand.

  “Let’s flee!” she cried. “Mother!”

  “I cannot—” Sybil cut off to send a barrage of silvery light spears at the white wolf who was running circles around them, clearly unperturbed. “Not without my drachma! If I used the wind, I would easily dash us against trees or rock. And if I used Light, I would destroy our bodies.”

  “Very clever,” the white wolf said. “You’ve not completely lost your sense, as I had heard.”

  “Stop running and face me!” Sybil shouted, her magic grazing the wolf, who barely dodged her attack. “You do not fool me with that disguise—you are Bleddyn, and you’ve come to attack me alone like a coward!”

  The wolf let out a derisive bark. “Much like your husband—” He yelped in alarm as the air around him churned, licking with flames; a tornado of wind and fire lifted him into the sky. The Seelie faeries who had not been overpowered and torn to pieces by the Unseelies hastened away. A couple of wolves who did not flee caught on fire or were thrown into the sky.

  Letting out a laugh, the wolf opened his massive jaws and breathed in deeply. Sybil summoned a large fireball, so hot Deirdre and Alvey cried out and pulled behind Sybil as it singed them. But the wolf gulped the fire and wind down, then fell to the ground, its sheer size making the earth quake. It was slightly singed but otherwise unharmed as it stood back up, licking its jaws.

  “How—?” Sybil’s voice faltered and she lowered her arms, shivering. The barrier of light around her and the girls wavered, its brightness pulsating and growing dimmer. “How did you do that? That should have destroyed your insides!”

  In reply, the wolf reared its head, then, like a dragon, shot out a white-hot jet of flame straight at them. Immediately both Sybil and Deirdre summoned Shadow Magic as a black barrier before them, for Earth Magic would have put them in a clay oven, and Water Magic would have turned into hot steam.