The mist had closed in on them again, as though taunting them, and Roen suppressed a shiver.
Eloryn stood in front of the wall of vines, and when Roen went to join her, he felt another tremor in his belly. The dense undergrowth seemed to be alive; it quivered and vibrated as Eloryn studied it.
“These vines do not look normal,” Roen said.
Eloryn looked back at him, her forehead creased into her cute frown of concentration. “I’m certain they are an enchantment. They are not a living plant, but some kind of fae magic. I might be able to clear them away though.”
She began casting, the air around the vines turned slightly blue, icy crystals forming like a spray of lichen across the twirling tendrils. The vines crumbled and turned to dust, and then they regrew as fast as they had died. Eloryn paused and shook her head. “Something else then,” she said and tried a different spell.
“Aren’t you going to help us get through here?” Roen asked Shonae.
“No,” she replied, watching Eloryn intently.
The battle between Eloryn and the vines went on for long minutes. The vines would wither only to spring back to life. They made a groaning cry with every death and shrill scream with every rebirth. The air stank of fetid sap and dead leaves. The ground gave off a boiling black oil every time the vines landed on it, dead and tangled.
Memory clapped her hands to her ears. She spat her words at Shonae. “You’re supposed to be our guide to get us to the Unseelie Court. Can’t you help us through this?”
Shonae just raised an eyebrow and brushed her wooly hair from her cheek. “I know what I’m meant to be doing.”
“I got it, I think!” Eloryn was panting but she was also smiling. There in front of her was a cleared section, a long tunnel leading into the vines. She headed for it. “I am going through.”
Roen’s breath caught.
I know what I’m meant to be doing.
His heart pounded so hard he felt his ribs could crack.
You will be our guide there, will not harm us or knowingly lead us to harm.
“El, no! Stop!” Roen yelled.
Vines that had appeared dead and fallen near her feet sprang to life, snatching Eloryn up into them. She turned, trying to escape and Roen saw her face, just long enough to see her eyes bulging in fear and her arms pinned helplessly to her side. Her face had gone a dusky red color, all breath squeezed from her body. She was pulled to the ground and dragged off into vines which closed up tightly around her.
Memory screamed.
Roen found his iron dagger in his hand, and hacked blindly at the vines. His hair whipped around his face as he screamed. Erec was there beside him, slashing with his sword, alternating with the iron spearhead.
Roen felt the ground tremble beneath him.
A wild fury filled Memory’s face and her breathing came in harsh snorts.
“Mem, calm yourself. The iron is working. El is smart. She has iron too. She’ll look after herself till we get her back.” He made his words sound strong, despite the part of himself that hoped Memory would explode, scorching this land till nothing remained, to punish it for taking Eloryn.
Hold on, El.
Memory screamed again, a rough, frustrated scream, and launched herself at the vines as well, slicing with her iron blade.
At each touch of iron, the vines burned and shriveled and stayed that way.
The vines dropped away and Roen pushed through. On through the thick wall of vines they all crashed, tripping where the creeping tendrils lashed around their ankles. One thick vine caught Memory around the waist, slithering and tightening its grip like a serpent. Smaller ones came to join it, twirling like whips. Erec cut her free just as they began hoisting her up into the vines overhead.
They broke through the final tangled screen and tumbled out the other side.
Eloryn was there, wide eyed and panting. In her hand she held her arrowhead, still pointed defensively at the vines, her arm coated in ash and black slime up to the elbow. Her coat had been lost and her ivory shirt was now gray and blood-stained, ripped apart off one shoulder. Long blonde hair had come loose of its ties and fell in tangles.
Roen fell to his knees beside her, scooping her up into his lap and burying his face into her neck. She clung back fiercely.
“Tell me you are safe, that I’ve not lost you and gone mad with grief,” he whispered.
“I’m here,” she whispered back. “But we are not safe.”
Roen realized then that they weren’t alone. The glassy clinking of metal and shifting of heavy feet in the crackling, dead grass told him all he needed to know before he looked up.
They were surrounded.
Memory stood protectively between where Roen held Eloryn on the ground, and the ring of huge creatures on horseback staring down at them. No, those really aren’t horses. Certainly not like any horse Memory could recall having seen before. They were tall and shaggy, shaped like black lions with clawed paws and whip-like tails, and heads like a horse but covered in hard, shiny scales and sharp beaks. It was hard to tell because they were folded away behind the riders’ legs, but Memory thought they might even have wings.
The knights themselves were all in heavy armor of black lacquered leather which gleamed and sparked in the dimness, covering whatever their true form was beneath.
Some carried spears and others had bows, arrows nocked, all tipped with the translucent yellow of fairy gold. All aimed their weapons at the humans.
Shonae crept forward out of the vines, keeping her distance from the humans and their iron. She bowed deeply, groveling to the ground in front of the mounted fae men.
Her head turned to the side and she hissed across at Memory, “Bow, fools. These are King Finvarra’s soldiers. Bow and at least your death may be quick.”
Memory shook her head. She would not bow and have her life taken. “Let us pass. We are just travelers. Our business is with the Seelie Fae, not with you or your master.”
Not yet, anyway, Memory amended internally.
“We know who you are,” one of the knights said. Its voice was deep, gravelly, and monotonous, like someone fighting throat cancer.
“Then you know attacking the queen of the humans of Avall is probably a big deal and shouldn’t be done.”
“Do you think we would be here without orders? You are nothing here.” The knight who spoke drew closer, leading his steed up in front of Memory. Foam spilled around the creature’s lips, and it snorted hot breath and spittle across Memory’s cheeks. She turned her face to the side but held her ground.
Roen got to his feet as well, helping Eloryn up beside him. They stood defiantly beside Memory, with Erec on her other side.
Memory wanted to whisper to Eloryn. She needed advice, she needed some brilliant magic plan to get through this, but the knight stood too close to them, staring down. She was sure he was smirking at them beneath his helmet. The knights weren’t making a move yet, as though they were waiting for something, but there was a fight coming, Memory was certain of it.
Memory might have softened a little, but the girl she used to be never shied away from a fight. She lifted her iron knife, holding it against the thigh of the dark fae knight right in front of her.
Led by her action, each of her friends held out their iron as well.
“Let us pass and no one has to die,” Memory said. Wow, I even managed to sound like I’m not about to pee my pants.
The white streaked raven from the swamp flew overhead, cawing in long taunting notes.
The knight in front of Memory lifted the visor of his helmet and glared at her. His eyes, fully black, were set in ghostly white wrinkled skin that seemed to drip like old wax across his face, revealing long, yellowed teeth in a protruding jaw. “Humans, walking in our territory, in the Unseelie Court, bearing iron against us. Well…”
The fae knight’s all black eyes shifted. Without pupils it was hard to tell where he was looking, until he reached out a gauntleted finger and pointed cr
ookedly at Roen. His lips curled into a vicious grin and he said, “Bronmarbh Aileadh.”
Memory’s heart stopped. Her chest tightened until her breaths came in tiny, short gasps as she waited, hoping, wishing it wouldn’t work. Then she heard Roen howl in agony.
“Roen, no, no!” Eloryn was screaming as loud as him.
He had crumpled to the ground clutching at his forehead, his shoulders shaking violently.
When he turned his face up and screamed into the sky, Memory could see the rune-like mark of the Brand there, burnt into his skin.
Memory’s eyes were wild, searching for answers, screaming for Eloryn. Her sister must be able to fix this, there had to be a way to fix this.
The knight in front of her was swaying his finger between the rest of them as though playing a cruel game of eeny-meeny-miny-mo.
Eloryn was lost in her own grief. She stood beside Roen, his hand gripped in hers, and began turning her magic against the fae before them. There were no plants, no animals, no life force of magic left in the world to help her. But she did have her iron arrowhead.
“Mem,” Roen croaked from beside her. “Just take El away. Get her to safety. Please.”
Memory nodded, all the while knowing that Eloryn would go nowhere without Roen.
It only took a moment, and two more words, for it to be too late anyway.
The knight’s finger came to rest pointing at Eloryn, and he spoke the words of Branding again.
“Bronmarbh Aileadh,” he crackled.
Eloryn cried out, and kept speaking the words of her behest through gritted teeth as the Brand burned itself onto her forehead.
The arrowhead in her hand began to melt, spreading and spinning and stretching into a long filament. As she fell onto one knee, Eloryn flicked her arm, sending the thin iron wire whipping out at the knights in front of her. It lashed across three of them, skimming uselessly over their armor. Their steeds weren’t as lucky, and toppled so fast Memory was sure she was hallucinating.
A roar went up from all the knights and their beasts.
Memory knew there was nothing left to do. It was time to fight.
Lory. Roen. Memory’s chest flamed and she roared at the useless magic inside her, magic that couldn’t free her friends from their Brands.
She ran forward, plunging her iron knife into the gap between the knee guard and thigh armor on a knight in front of her. Sizzling smoke and gray ooze spilled around her blade as she pulled it back, whirling to find her next target.
Memory tried to make sense of the erupting chaos of death and battle around her. Did they have a chance to run? Was there a leader she could take down?
Erec had downed another lion-horse and its knight fell below the beast, his armor stained with dark thick blood.
Memory could see Shonae, scrambling away across the ground, the ashy dirt staining her pure white fur.
Roen and Eloryn were fighting back to back. Some of the knights had dismounted, beating them with the blunt ends of spears, knocking them to the ground.
Memory saw then that the fae men carried ropes, black and slick like the vines they’d just passed through.
Eloryn struck out again with her thin whip of iron, and screamed more words of behest as she did so. The iron danced and twitched in the air, striking into the vulnerable joints between the knight’s armor. Some fell, but more came. More and more. Too many.
The knights had not been there to kill them; if they had been they would have been dead already. They were so outnumbered, despite how many fell to the iron the humans wielded. The knights were there to capture them, no matter what the cost, but that revelation didn’t help Memory.
The words of Branding were croaked out again, barely audible over the screams of battle.
Erec. Memory felt her eyes burn with tears.
One of the steeds bucked in panic through the fray, knocking Memory away from her friends. She tried to push back, fight her way back to Roen, Eloryn and Erec, but arrows rained down. One pricked her upper shoulder and blood bloomed quickly, dripping down her sleeve. Her left arm drooped, pain making it useless to her. Another barrage came from the air and Memory ducked and rolled away, taking cover behind one of the fallen animals.
Roen and Eloryn were screaming, lashed with rope and being dragged away from each other.
“Mem!” Eloryn’s cry shattered through the air. She struggled against the knight holding her. His hands were like claws and they yanked her up onto his steed which twirled, paws digging into the dry earth.
Memory could see Erec, fighting still within a crowd of unseelie fae, drawing all their attention as he refused to fall.
Memory stood from behind her cover, ready to run and help him, or Roen, or Eloryn. One of them, somehow. She wasn’t sure where she was going, only that her mind burned to help them. Save them. Fight.
A strong hand wrapped around her arm, cold fingers digging in firmly.
Memory tried to yank free, and turned to see a cloaked figure.
“You can’t save them now. Run, fight later,” silver lips said, shimmering under the shadow of the hood.
Nyneve? Memory stared into the black cowl, wanting to argue, but she was given little choice. Nyneve ran, dragging Memory behind her with unbreakable strength. She ran straight for the dark vines. They shrank away from them, clearing the way as Memory remembered the trees cleared their way from Eloryn the first time they met.
Shonae appeared, running frantically beside them, arms hugged around her chest and eyes wide. The vines gave off a low-pitched moaning, the sound hungry children made at the sight of food, and Memory had to hold her breath to keep from throwing up.
The three ran along the length of the wall of vines until Memory was out of breath, and when her legs failed her, Nyneve let go of her arm and Memory fell with a crack onto her knees, gulping air.
The moment she was able to stand, Memory turned back the way they had come, but hands wrapped around her wrists and held her tight.
Memory screamed and fought the cloaked figure, determined to go back and save her friends.
“Quiet, before you get us all killed.”
Nyneve loosened her hold, and Memory pushed free, looking up at the unseelie princess. Her hood had fallen back while holding Memory still, and her midnight hair tumbled around her silver snake-skin face like inky shadows.
Her black eyes swept the area around them, silver eyelashes shining in the thin rays of light coming from the western edge of the sky.
“What are you doing here?” Memory coughed out.
“Trying to save your life.” Nyneve placed the cowl back over her face. “I have little time, I cannot be seen with you and it cannot come to light that I helped you. If we are caught there will be no hope for your friends.”
Did that mean there was some hope? Memory blinked back tears. “I’m covered in the blood of creatures I killed and just lost the people I love the most in the world so maybe you should talk real plain. How, how can we save my friends?”
Nyneve looked down her straight nose at Memory. Her face held little expression, like a fine silver statue. “Finvarra has captured your friends to get to you. He will keep them alive until he does.”
That’s why the fae Branded them first. Hatred made Memory’s insides flame.
Nyneve’s face softened then, and eyelids fluttered down slowly. “I want to help you. Branding is a horrible death. An unfair thing. I saw it happen to someone I loved, once, long ago.” Her twig-like fingers rested on her heart. “I know what has been done to you by my father. Finvarra is… evil. He’s grown old and twisted and I fear for his mind. I want to help you and your friends, but he is still my father, and still my ruler.”
“I’m sorry you had to watch someone you loved die from Branding.” Memory was, and what was more she was pretty sure she was about to understand that particular pain very well soon.
“Let’s not let it happen again.” Nyneve turned to the side, away from Memory. With her face obscured by the co
wl Memory couldn’t see her expression, but she sounded choked, as if she was crying, or maybe laughing. It was funny how alike the two could sound.
“Only the monarch of the offended race can lift a Brand once made. You can challenge Finvarra for the lives of your friends. You have one turn of the sun and moon to get to the Unseelie Court and fight for them before the Brand takes its toll. I will help you as much as I can when you get to the court but I have to go now.” Nyneve looked over at Shonae, and Shonae shivered visibly under her gaze, making her body small as though to hide in plain sight. Pointing behind the small faun, Nyneve showed Memory a tunnel of twisted sticks and dry brambles, woven into neat and intricate patterns and filled with a golden glow. “There is the briar path. You must take it. Listen to me, and listen well- do not tarry. Finvarra wants you, but he is unpredictable in his insanity. He could kill your friends at any time. That’s why I have to go back now. I will try to keep them safe from him, but I cannot keep them safe from the Brand. Twenty-four human hours and it will kill them.”
“Twenty-four hours,” Memory repeated. The words tasted like blood in her mouth.
Nyneve nodded. Just like that she was gone, only a faint ripple of air left where she had been standing.
Memory stared around her, unable to think or even want to.
All she wanted was to crumple, to let the weight that had built inside her finally break her down and let her become nothing, to become more dirt and ash on the ground. To become something that didn’t feel pain.
She felt utterly alone.
A soft scratching on the ground beside her reminded her she wasn’t.
“Will we keep going?” Shonae’s voice was a soft whinny. She had shuffled over close to Memory, but leaned back as though she could be struck at any moment.
“You’re still here?” Memory mumbled. “What happened? Did you forget which direction you were running in?”
“We made a binding oath.”
Stupid oaths, Memory cursed. She’d held back her magic, not knowing how to use it, not wanting to break her oath to the fae. Maybe with it, she could have taken the upper hand in the fight, but not before Roen was Branded, or Eloryn. She might have saved them from being captured, but they’d still be Branded, and Memory would too be Branded, hunted, or killed by the seelie fae for breaking her oath.
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