Together we herded and battered all the guards into an empty cell. While Ulf eyed them with menace, I took the brisingr from Treig and used it along with my own to bind the guards to each other as well as the bars.
With the guards contained, I forced my mind to consider strategy—it was all I could do not to run up the stairs and look for Finvara.
“Did you have any success with your people?” I asked Treig.
“I spoke to as many as I could,” she replied, “until I was caught. I think some will help us.”
Touched by her loyalty, I laid my hand on her arm. “The drawbridge will have been raised,” I said. “We need it lowered, and we need to drive the elves out onto the grounds west of the castle. Into the trees. Do you think there’s any way to do that with only a small number of helpers?”
Treig lifted her eyebrows. “Fire?”
“Fire,” I agreed. “Burn everything. Finvara’s men are laying siege from the east and will discourage them from fleeing in that direction.” I looked at Ulf. “Will you help her?”
The two exchanged an unfriendly glance, and I recalled that Ulf had given her the lump on her forehead. Yet he replied, “Já.”
“If you trust him, Your Majesty,” said Treig.
“With my life.”
“We’ll go with them,” said the earl. He and his eldest son had joined us. Elinor and his daughter-in-law clung to each other just outside their cell. Lady Mayo looked terrified, but in Elinor’s eyes I thought I caught a glimmer of excitement. The earl continued, “Duncan needs my help.”
“He does, my lord.”
“Is there anywhere Elinor and Margaret will be safe?” he asked.
I had very little patience left for remaining here—I looked for Doro. He was standing outside our circle, watching us closely. I shivered.
“I know you cannot leave Knock Ma unaccompanied,” I said to him, “but you may pass into Faery?”
“I may, Your Majesty,” he said icily.
“Take the earl’s kinswomen to Faery. Leave them someplace safe and return to me at once.”
“Faery!” said Lady Margaret, eyeing me fearfully.
“You will be safer there than here,” I replied.
“Can the creature be trusted?” asked the earl, giving Doro a wary glance.
Not generally. “He is magically bound to me and must obey.” I turned to Doro. “Go now.”
He moved close to the ladies and lightly touched Elinor’s back. All three of them vanished.
“What will happen in the forest?” asked Ulf.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I have reason to believe the trees will help us. You must all keep clear of it if you can.”
“What will you do, hrafn?”
“Find my husband,” I replied, starting for the stairway.
The others followed me up. Outside, they ran down the stairs to the parapet while I stopped to look up at Corvus—and the carriage-sized fireball that my father had conjured on the turret above me.
Return to the Gap! I used my thoughts to scream at the Morrigan.
The ship did not respond, and I tried again. Please save my husband!
Everything had gone impossibly still. Alfakonung’s men were silent, waiting and watching from the battlements. My father shifted his position so the fireball hung in the air over both of his outstretched hands.
Doro reappeared beside me, and I grabbed his arm. “I need a soft landing for Finvara!” I told him in Irish, so there would be no possibility of misunderstanding. “I don’t care what spell you cast, but cast it now!”
My father intended to destroy his enemy in a single stroke. Did he know it was the Morrigan he faced, or had anger driven him to use all his power to destroy one Irishman?
I waited feverishly for Doro’s answer, my fingernails digging into his flesh. What if it wasn’t in his power? How much elemental magic had been spent already? Yet he was the only one who could help me—everything the Morrigan had done for us was in exchange for her chance at punishing Doro. Her revenge was more important than our lives, and that was what my husband had been trying to tell me all along. If he died because of her, I would never forgive myself.
My father let out a roar that vibrated the stone beneath my feet, and he hurled the fireball at Corvus.
“Doro!” I screamed.
He had closed his eyes and begun to chant. I ran up the stairs to the top of the prison tower, and I climbed into a crenellation in the battlement.
Then I leapt from the castle.
This time my wings were ready and caught the air quickly. I conjured my furies.
They are of earth magic, I realized, the most ancient of the elements. My father’s fire magic had not diminished them. I recalled what had happened with Ulf in the forest and I sang to them as we flew, binding them close to me.
Finvara’s gaze met mine the moment the fireball struck Corvus. Liquid fire—hot as the volcanic blood that had once spewed from the Laki craters—splattered over hull, balloon, and sails. The slack sails immediately caught fire, and a dozen men emerged on the deck—my stomach twisted as one of them jumped from the railing, choosing to fall to his death rather than be burned alive.
By myself, I could only save one of these men—if that.
“Finvara!” I shouted as I approached the burning wreck.
My heart lurched as he rose from beneath the railing, where he had fallen on impact. Smoke rose from holes in his clothing—he had been burned. He glanced at the deck behind him—the rest of the crew had followed the first.
There was a whoosh of hot air as liquid fire finally penetrated the balloon, and the ship began to plunge, her wings digging frantically at the air. Finvara too climbed onto the rail and jumped.
I swooped down and met him in the air, throwing my arms around him. Like Ulf, he was too heavy for me to carry. I managed to raise my wings a few times but was soon unbalanced by his weight, and we began to tumble, my furies swarming around us. We had so far to fall—we could not possibly survive it.
“Save yourself!” Finvara shouted. “Let me go!”
We stopped rolling for a precious split-second, and I glimpsed something miraculous. A circular ribbon of water hung in the sky just below us. I could not make sense of it, and there was no time to question. On our current path we would shoot through the open middle of it.
The water! I screamed at my birds. I shook my wings free and began to pump them, my fists knotted in Finvara’s coat. A thousand feathered bodies pressed close against him, their wings whacking at him and the air and each other, helping to support his weight.
With the smack of flesh on a surface more yielding than earth or rock, we plunged into icy water, dark as a subterranean lake. I stopped fighting and let my exhausted body float. Finvara, too, went still, and his hands came to my waist. My heart jumped as an enormous silvery fish with a huge gaping mouth went streaking past us. Finvara tugged me to his chest, and I felt a bubble of laughter escape his lips. It was the happiest sound I had ever heard.
Finvara
To laugh in that moment was a ridiculous thing, but I had learned from my mother that if you can laugh, not only are you still alive, but life is still worth living.
Koli had come for me, and the fact that we were somehow swimming in Knock Ma’s moat at least a hundred feet from the ground—along with pike that were large enough to swallow us—was not going to steal the joy of this moment.
Running out of air would indeed steal the joy, however, so I grasped Koli’s arm and we began to kick for the surface.
Our heads burst from the water. Before we had caught our breath enough to speak, we were suddenly falling again—I threw my arms around Koli’s waist.
“Doro’s spell!” she sputtered.
So Doro had raised the moat—and now it was returning to the castle.
&nbs
p; “Kick!” I said. “Don’t slip down below the water line!”
Our descent was slower than if we’d been tossed from a bucket, but still we landed with a sloppy splash, and I lost my grip on her. I flailed around for a moment, confused about which end was up.
The lighted end, idiot.
I felt a hand on my back, and together we swam for the side of the moat. Much of the water had been lost in the splash, and it was not at all apparent how we were going to scale the slimy walls.
While I was looking for a vine or rope, Koli shouted, “Corvus!”
She was engulfed in flames and falling out of the sky like a ship of souls bound for hell. Even aflame, her wings continued to rake through the air. At the last, there was an explosion and the ship lurched violently—the fire must have found the black powder. Koli gave a cry of surprise as the burning wreckage slammed right into the turret where her father had stood.
Spell-borne fire splattered out from the ship and across the courtyard. Shouts of alarm and confusion filled the air. Elf warriors and panicking horses pounded over the drawbridge and fled down the hillside into the forest. Flames licked at holes in the castle walls.
“Come with me,” I said.
We swam under the drawbridge, and from there were able to climb an abutment and haul ourselves out. Then we ran for the gatehouse.
There was no one inside, and we climbed the stairs to the top, where we would have a good view of the forest and the castle.
With the collapse of the prison tower, the wreckage of the ship rested partly on the east wall. Several other sections of wall had been taken out by cannon fire. Dark smoke curled from the burning bailey, and even from the windows of the keep.
Suddenly Koli threw her arms around me. Warmth spread out from my heart, filling my chest.
“I thought I had killed you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I should never have left you like that. You were right about the Morrigan.”
I pulled her close. “You did what you thought was best, and who can say that it wasn’t? But can you now tell me why, acushla?”
She drew back to look at me, but before she could answer, we heard the distinct call of a crow—about a hundred times louder and more shrill than any crow I had ever heard . . . save one.
Looking out, we saw the enormous bird circling above the burning rubble.
“She’s survived,” I said.
Koli shook her head slowly. “How can that be?”
I shrugged. “She’s a goddess.”
Koli stared at me. “She must not have known. If she had known she could become her old self simply by destroying her new self, she would not have needed us.”
I smiled, thinking how Lady Meath would appreciate the situation—the Morrigan, goddess of death, decay, and renewal.
“Her revenge might not have been so spectacular, though,” I said. “It was a good thing for us, because we needed her, as much as it pains me to say so.”
The great crow suddenly dived into the rubble. A few moments later she emerged with something draped across her back.
“Doro,” Koli said with such certainty I looked at her. “He was standing outside the prison tower with me when my father threw the fireball.”
I frowned. “Can he have survived?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so. I wonder what she’ll do with him.”
Shuddering, I said, “I hate to think.”
The Morrigan left the sky above the castle, flying off north with her prize. I sighed. “And now she abandons us with the battle half fought.”
We watched her fade into the backdrop of cloud.
Koli turned. “At least we no longer have my father to contend with.”
I studied her. “How do you feel about that?”
She moved in close, pressing her cheek to my chest, and I put my arms around her.
“I don’t think I really feel anything yet.”
I stroked her hair, and I kissed the top of her head. “I suppose we should—”
Suddenly I felt a trembling through the floor, and I glanced at the castle. The rubble against the east wall began to shift and slide.
“Father!” cried Koli.
SORCERESS
Finvara
“It’s just the debris settling,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
Still, I continued to watch the rubble with her—it stayed put.
“Koli.” She looked at me, and I took her hand. “Let us go.”
We left the gatehouse and plunged down the hillside into the forest, heading for the lines of fighters that were forming on a flatter stretch of ground to the southwest. Knock Ma was an unusual fortress when it came to defensibility, possessing not only a moat and drawbridge but a hilltop position. Yet the strength of those assets was undermined by the proximity of the forest, which made it easier for an enemy to get close to the castle before being seen—as my men had today. None of it had mattered in the end—the castle had been all but destroyed by magic, and the two armies would now clash in the field.
My men had circled around south of the castle, pushing westward and forming a line that stretched north to south. The elf warriors had formed a shield wall about thirty yards directly west of the line.
“It’s going to be bloody difficult,” I said as we reached the Irish line. The forest was sparser on this ground, but not by much.
“Hrafn!”
Ulf took long strides toward us, and I looked frantically for branch or rock or anything I could use to defend us. But my bride hurried to meet the big elf, and he threw his arms around her, lifting her from the ground.
A change had certainly taken place, and I confess I did not rejoice at it.
“I was sure that you were dead!” he roared.
“So was I,” she said, laughing.
“Ulf,” I interrupted, with a tentative lift to my voice that annoyed even me.
She slipped down from his embrace, and he answered my greeting with a grunt. It was probably the best I could hope for, considering the last time I’d seen him, he’d punched me in the face.
Koli turned to me, explaining how Ulf had defected and aided us. He took over to tell how he and Treig had smashed the gearworks after lowering the drawbridge, then joined the elven warriors running from the plummeting hell ship.
I had railed against him for not taking Koli’s side. Now that he had, it did not sit well.
“Where are the others?” she asked. “Treig? The earl?”
I looked up sharply. “Earl?”
“Your father,” said Koli. “The elves went after them—he and the others were in the dungeon at Knock Ma.”
I scanned the line of men, but there was too little visibility and too much movement. “What about the others?” I asked. “What about Elinor?” As if the poor girl had not suffered enough. “Were they harmed?”
“Finvara,” said Koli, squeezing my arm. “They are well. Elinor is well. I ordered Doro to take her and Lady Mayo to Faery until it’s safe.” I saw it dawn on her that Doro was gone—her eyes went wide.
“We will find them,” I reassured her. “It was the right thing to do.”
Ulf uttered a stream of Elvish, and I looked up—his gaze had been drawn behind us. We turned in time to watch the Elf King duck through the entry arch and cross the bailey toward the drawbridge.
A command was shouted from behind our line, and I recognized the voice of my father. A volley of arrows fired at the drawbridge. The Elf King waved his hand, batting them off course like a swarm of gnats.
I called the nearest soldier over to me. “Give me your blade,” I said.
“No.” It was the strongest voice I had ever heard Koli use. She glared daggers at me. “It is impossible, husband. He will snap you in two.”
Before I could mutter something childish and unhelpful about her confid
ence in me, I remembered the barrow-wight, and how we had worked together that day.
“Do you remember the stones?” I asked her. “How we repaired the path on the hillside, after we defeated the barrow-wight?”
She gave a quick nod.
“I know he is powerful. But do you think that together we could make a blocking spell strong enough to prevent him using magic? It would give us a chance.”
Her gaze darted to her father, who was trudging across the bridge. He raised a sword, the edge of it burning with green flame. After shouting at his men in Elvish, he raised the weapon higher and swung at our infantry line. Green flame jumped from the blade and struck down half a dozen men.
“The block would work on everyone!” she said. “I know of nothing except brisingr that can block magic in a limited way.”
“It doesn’t matter!” I said. “Could we do it?”
With a grim expression she watched her father strike down another half dozen men.
Finally she shook her head. “My magic—it’s not that strong. I’m a warrior, not a sorceress.”
“Koli!” I cried in desperation. “That’s not true—what about your furies?”
Koli
It had always been a source of secret shame for me, and of open disappointment for my father. How could I be descended from Gunnhild and Alfakonung and possess no more than middling magical ability? Instead I had cultivated the skills of a warrior, and I had offered unquestioning loyalty.
Yet my loyalty had not been unquestioning. Out of the seed of anger sewn by my father’s coldness to both me and my mother, my furies had grown. Until I had come to Ireland, I’d never had any real control over them. They possessed solid forms now, and there almost seemed to be an unlimited number of them. Finvara was right—they had become my most powerful spell.
It was as if they’d become more real as I’d discovered things in my life worth fighting for.
they were never conjured, elf maid. The voice came like an echo, a fragment of the Morrigan remaining in my mind.
What did she mean? If not conjured, then . . . they must have been summoned. It meant they were real, and if I could call hundreds—I could call thousands.
The Raven Lady Page 27
