Song of the Fairy Queen

by Valerie Douglas

  Morgan’s hand tightened on her.

  All of them saw the implications.

  “Driving not just the Fairy but the rebels deeper into the woods, decreasing their range, increasing the risk each time they ride out,” Morgan said. “Not to mention the danger to lives from the fires themselves. We’ll have to warn them.”

  Kyri’s eyes unfocused. “They know and my people have been cautioned to be very careful flying in and out of their glens and to go only by circuitous routes.”

  With a sigh, Oryan nodded. “Clearing the forests will also give Haerold land he can use to reward his people for their service.”

  Looking down at Kyri and then to Oryan, Morgan said, “We’re going to have to find another way to communicate. Save the Fairy for emergencies or Healing.”

  He wasn’t going to risk her again.

  Surprisingly, it was quiet Galan who protested first. “No. Kyriay. My Kyri…Don’t let them do this. We are in this as well.”

  From Dorien, too, came protest. “No, my Kyri. This is our fight, too.”

  Kyri looked at Morgan fiercely. “No, Morgan. Don’t hesitate to use us. In that Galan and Dorien have the right of it. Although I wouldn’t want to lose any of my people, it’s no more than you want to lose any of yours. This is our fight, too. We didn’t attack, we were attacked. We will not give up and we will not give in. Not to this. Live or die, we fight.”

  Picking up the piece of paper, she tossed it aside.

  She turned to look up at him, her aqua eyes intent on his, but understanding. “Don’t try to save us from ourselves, Morgan. If this effort fails, Haerold will only come after us anyway and there will be no one left then to aid us. Where will we be then?”

  He looked down at her. They’d come so close to nearly losing her. He had come so close to nearly losing her. The thought nearly tore his heart in two.

  Even so, he could no more ask her to back away than she would him. It wasn’t in them, either of them. They’d both been raised and bred to duty and honor.

  Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and nodded.

  “It works both ways, then, Kyri,” Morgan said, with a glance at Oryan for confirmation, looking at her steadily. “Until now you’ve helped us. Now, if you have need, you call.”

  Oryan nodded. “Until now you’ve given and we’ve taken, gratefully I might add. Where we can, we’ll help. Now, we’re true allies. Haerold won’t wait long. He’ll strike and soon.”

  A glance at Caleb from Morgan was all it took. With a nod the other man slipped out of the tent. Messengers would go out to all of the Marshals on patrol to add Fairy lands to their range.

  Kyri would’ve protested the special treatment, the strain on their resources. She would’ve sent word, but she would’ve protested. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  It would stretch Oryan’s resources and his own even farther, Morgan knew, the weight settling on his shoulders, but he would find a way to try to help keep the Fairy and Kyri safe as best they could.

  He tightened his arm around her.

  It was the least they owed her and her people for all they’d done so far and would yet do.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  The frantic Call wrenched Kyri out of sleep, sitting bolt upright in Morgan’s arms, her eyes wide and seemingly sightless, the lids fluttering as she saw things he couldn’t. Images raced through Kyri’s mind, confusing, a babble of voices Kyri struggled to make sense of.

  Morgan didn’t need to ask, he already reached for his clothes and hers, his arm around her for support.

  A clear sign of her agitation, her wings fluttered slightly against his arm, the feathers shifting softly.

  “Talk to me, Kyri,” Morgan coaxed, his eyes intent on hers, brushing the long rippling strands of her hair back over her shoulder. “What’s happening?”

  He had no doubt Haerold had finally responded.

  At the touch her eyes cleared. Kyri gave him a grateful look as she found her shift in her lap.

  “A glen to the west,” she said, quickly pulling it over her head. “The scouts spotted soldiers in one spot, Hunters in another. It doesn’t make sense. Dorien and Solon are on their way. I’ve called for help from Martin, the rebel leader there, too.”

  Her eyes went worriedly to Morgan, “It’s going to be a hard ride for you, Morgan.”

  Catching her chin in his hand, he looked at her intently and said, “We’ll manage.”

  She nodded, leaning forward quickly to kiss him, before standing to let the shift settle over her hips. This dress was slightly heavier that those she’d worn in warmer months and climes, the sleeves longer, fluttering around her wrists as the skirts swirled down around her ankles, her only concession to the increasingly colder weather.

  From outside the tent they heard Caleb say, “Galan?”

  “Something’s wrong,” Galan explained to him. “My Kyri?”

  Wrapping her sword belt around her hips, buckling it, slinging her bow and quiver over her shoulders between her wings, she called, “Coming.”

  “Captain?” Caleb asked, from outside.

  Morgan replied, pulling on his own clothes, “Rouse our people, Caleb, get them mounted and ready to ride long, hard and fast.”

  “On my way, Captain,” Caleb said and took off at a run. His footsteps pounded.

  “I’ll tell Oryan,” Morgan said, pulling Kyri into his arms for a hard quick kiss. “We’ll come. Be careful. I love you. Go.”

  With a nod, she said, “I love you, too. I will.”

  Then she and Galan raced for the sky, wings opening, lifting.

  It would be hours before Morgan would see her again and she was going into danger. But not alone. Not this time. Galan would be with her, Dorien and Solon. Martin and his people. Morgan watched her go only long enough to hold the image of her in his mind and then he turned for Oryan’s tent at a run.

  Alerted by the commotion, lanterns were already being lit within.

  Kyri stroked for the high winds up where the air was thin, Galan working hard to keep up with her. That was her talent, riding the thermals. Images flashed through her mind, reports from the scouts, from the ground. She struggled to make sense of it all as she danced from one updraft to the other, that made more difficult because of the hour and time of year, the sun wasn’t yet up to truly power the thermals.

  Terror burst across her nerves, not her own, that of her people and the trees.

  Fire. It couldn’t have been used at a worse time, now when the leaves were brilliantly colored against the gray sky but drying, falling in drifts that were snared by the undergrowth to provide fuel to flames.

  Images battered her. Flames reached for the sky, frightened Fairy were trapped… but by what? Why couldn’t they fly?

  And then she was there, swooping down over the forest, seeing the flames on one side, climbing into the canopy. Too fast. It was too fast, it shouldn’t have reached there so quickly.

  On the other were nets.

  Thick hemp ropes had been strung through the trees. Between them were the Fairy, her people, many with unfledged children in their arms, the younger fledged children clinging close to their parents. All of them were frantic, terrified. Some of the other folk from the Glen were trying desperately to reach those trapped, but they were driven back by the flames. Below, the Hunters waited hungrily, leaping at any who dropped too low. Archers shot at those trapped above.

  A strike force of Haerold’s soldiers battled the glade’s scouts, advancing through the trees, keeping them from rendering aid to those above them.

  Instantly, Kyri sent out a call for help, for water, for support.

  Dorien and Solon and their people from the south she sent to take down the nets.

  Galan spun away to find Martin and bring him against the soldiers coming from the east, to free the Fairy scouts.

  She sent out a calming broadcast to those trapped between flame and net as Dorien, Solon and their people dodged arrows from below while
trying to bring down the web of ropes, hacking at the thick hemp with their swords.

  Diving through and between the trees, drawing her own bow, she fired a shot to force the Hunters’ heads down and then the net was falling down over the Hunters instead, tangling them momentarily.

  A temporary respite and a hole, a chance for escape for those who’d been trapped within.

  Kyri directed the frantic families to the hole, reassigning Dorien and Solon to escort duty to be sure they reached the south safely, even as one of the defending scouts died.

  Other glens winged in water to drench the flames, but they were merely holding back the fire until more help could come. It was all a holding action until more aid could arrive.

  Impossibly, fire flamed in another tree even as she felt the whisper of magic.

  Wizard.

  Magic.

  Fury flared and Kyri fought it.

  When fighting fire with fire you had best be careful you didn’t burn yourself. She couldn’t fight him that way and wind could be just as dangerous. Rain wasn’t possible either, she sensed, casting about her. There was no rain within miles, the thin overcast was the result of the rising dew, there wasn’t enough moisture in it to help them.

  Now she knew how the nets had gotten up there. The wizard had strung them, silently, with magic.

  Worse, she couldn’t battle him head to head, as she didn’t know where he was. She couldn’t see him.

  The soldiers advanced, pushing toward the edges of the glade, driving the defenders back. Behind the soldiers were men with axes. Woodsmen and lumberjacks. Some already fanned out hacking at the base of the trees in pairs.

  Martin’s people struck Haerold’s brigade on the flank.

  The battle had only just begun.

  Another contingent of Fairy arrived. She sent them to harass the Hunters, staying high.

  The Hunters cut their way out of the nets and were now loping toward the forward edge of the fight, building speed.

  Morgan pushed his people hard, but no more than they pushed themselves. Almost all of them owed a debt of gratitude to Kyri, Galan or Dorien for their assistance in some way or another – healing, a call for help or backup, even escape. Every hour that went past was a torment, all of them fearing they wouldn’t arrive in time. As they closed, the smoke rising on the horizon gave them fresh inspiration, fresh impetus, driving them harder.

  Cresting the rise, racing over it, the field of battle became clear.

  It was a nightmarish scene.

  To their right flames rose from among the tops of the trees, the thick smoke and fire turning the scene below into a badly lit nightmare of Haerold’s dark-clad and lightly armored men doing battle with Martin’s rebels on horseback and the Fairy darting in from the air. Both were rendered less effective by the armor Haerold’s men wore, as they were forced to seek the weak spots in it. The Fairy had to take more time for their shots as they aimed for the eyeholes in helmets, or the gap between helmet and chest piece, rendering them more vulnerable to Haerold’s archers as well. The rebels, too, had to choose, throat, ribs, or wrist.

  Above the trees another flight of Fairy dove, water from buckets spilling over the trees.

  Within the forest the clear sound of a great tree crashing to the ground echoed and the ground shook.

  Where was Kyri?

  Then Morgan saw her, a flutter of iridescent wings on high, diving down to take a message from a rider on horseback and then soaring back up.

  It was like watching a firefly, or a butterfly… She danced on the air…

  A second. A breath.

  He saw her turn on a wingtip…toward him, her hair swirling around her…so beautiful…and then her wings folded….

  Kyri spun in midair, sensing Morgan, and dove like an arrow.

  “Morgan,” she said, with relief.

  Smoke had shadowed her fair skin, smeared and stained her clothes and there were rents here and there in it, but so far she appeared tired, but unhurt. A tension within him relaxed.

  “Your people?”

  With a sigh, she said, “The families are out. We lost some people defending the glen, but the children are safe, flying south.”

  He nodded, signaling his people to fan out, as Kyri soared upward again.

  It wasn’t as if she were safe up there. Recognizing the advantage of her position, the General leading the attack directed his archers to shoot her out of the sky.

  Morgan saw the archers turn, targeting her and his heart was in his throat even as he and his people charged.

  Time and again flights of arrows whirred past her, but Kyri dodged them like a lark, spinning and turning, swooping this way and that, trying to stay above them.

  Morgan kept his eyes away from the sky with an effort, although it was difficult not to watch. He even found one or two of the enemy watching, open-mouthed as Kyri twisted and turned, dodging arrows, darting this way and that to redirect their forces. Those who did paid for their inattention.

  The flare of magic was what warned her and Kyri turned into a spinning dive as a fireball suddenly crackled past her. She ducked and dodged frantically as another flashed by even as she spiraled out of its way. A third came close enough to scorch her leg as it went past.

  If they couldn’t shoot her down one way, it seemed that they would shoot her down another. The trees no longer burst into flame, so there was fire in the sky instead.

  Morgan’s heart was in his throat, watching both the pyrotechnics and Kyri’s aerial acrobatics to escape it.

  So was Galan’s and that of every other Fairy, it seemed, as all of them suddenly focused on the attack on their Queen.

  Where was the damn wizard? Morgan raised himself in the saddle even as he hacked around him with his sword, trying to see.

  Galan shot past him, a furious blur of shimmering gilded wings, diving for a solitary figure in the midst of the strike force, risking a bow shot on the wing. It was enough to distract the wizard, though, to draw his attention from Kyri as he fought to defend himself.

  The archers set around the wizard for protection sent a flight of arrows after Galan, one close enough to make him flinch as he spun away.

  Morgan didn’t even need to call the order, his people were already turning, regrouping and tightening into a flying wedge, spurring their horses toward the wizard.

  A flight of Fairy dove toward him as well, dodging fireballs and arrows while loosing their own.

  The momentum of the horses bowled over the first rank of the armored men, to fall beneath the charging hooves, as Morgan’s people hacked, kicked and beat at them to get past.

  Morgan spurred his horse to the fore as the wizard turned to face this new danger.

  Trusting to Kyri’s talisman, Morgan set spurs to his horse. It surged forward.

  The fireballs had stopped coming. Kyri checked up, spinning in the air to see what was happening below.

  Morgan and his Marshals drove toward the dark-robed figure of the wizard in the center of Haerold’s men while her own people dodged and darted, trying to reach him, too. A fireball flashed and her heart leaped into her throat even as it splashed itself across the warding of the talisman she’d given Morgan, the magic sizzling over her nerves.

  The wizard’s cordon of archers saw them coming, too, some turned to face this new threat.

  Her talisman was no protection against an arrow.

  Fear and fury flared and she dove, coming in fast from above and behind Morgan, bow drawn and fired at the first to turn an arrow on him or any of his.

  Morgan knew who it was who flew at and above his shoulder, each arrow striking true, as he swung at the gap in the helmet of the man swinging his sword at him, driving the man back, Caleb guarded his right, another Marshal named Barton at his left.

  Then he was through, the archers falling away, the wizard trying to wrench his horse’s head around with the wrong hand even as he tried to cast another spell with the free one. Morgan hefted his sword like a spear and th
rew it with every ounce of strength he had in him.

  Unhampered by armor, the sword drove deep into the wizard’s belly and the fireball flashed uselessly up into the sky as the force of the blow threw him backward in the saddle. Then the wizard toppled and fell.

  Morgan spun his horse around, reaching down to reclaim his sword. His people spun, too, ranging themselves around him, Kyri still at his shoulder, bow drawn. A flight of Fairy dove down from above them, every one of them with arrows notched, to let fly on those surrounding Morgan, Kyri and the Marshals to help cut them out from amidst the enemy.

  Another flight came in from one side, catching Haerold’s forces unprepared for the sudden, concentrated attack of Fairy.

  “Out,” Morgan shouted, as Kyri sent an arrow into the first soldier ahead of him.

  He sensed the shift, too, as Martin’s rebels turned to try to fight through to them at Galan’s behest.

  They battled their way back out again, through the smoke and the men, coming together with Martin’s men and Martin himself.

  “Martin,” Morgan said, beating off one of Haerold’s men as his own fanned out around them. “Good to see you.”

  “And you, sir,” Martin said with a grin, his dark blonde hair blowing in the wind raised by the fire. “Lady Kyri.”

  She nodded, wings stroking, reaching a hand to Morgan.

  Morgan took it, to steady her as she put a hand onto his shoulder so she could drop into the saddle behind him.

  The tide of the battle had turned.

  Haerold’s Captain had already called a retreat, trailing fire behind him, setting the plain ablaze behind him.

  It was over. For now.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  The snow fell thick and heavy as Morgan’s horse forged through the deep drifts. He pulled the heavy fleece coat more tightly around him as he huddled into it for warmth, his collar turned up, more snow spilling now and then from the brim of his hat. It was bone-chillingly cold and they rode through near white-out conditions, almost blind. He swore softly. It would be almost impossible to find some kind of shelter in this, but they didn’t dare camp out in the open. They would freeze.