“Don’t be stupid,” I retort, pulling him after me despite his objections. “There’s only one way out of here, and it’s the same for both of us.”
I glance over my shoulder to find the group of guards has doubled in size and, with a burst of fear, spot Percy and the cousins in their midst.
“Crap!” I say, redoubling the pace. “Here comes the cavalry.”
Nibs and I scamper away as if our bums are on fire. Already I can distinguish the large shape of one of the school’s markers detaching itself from the darkening sky.
“Keep running,” I tell Nibs who sounds like an old steam engine running out of fuel. “Just a few more fields, then we’ll be safe inside the forest.”
If you can call ‘safe’ a place crawling with Fey avid for my blood. But I don’t voice my concern; that’s something I’ll worry about when I get there.
A bolt of fire hits the ground in front of us, leaving a wide crater in its wake, and I swerve around to avoid it.
“They’re catching up!” I yell, panting.
The tall standing stone quickly grows larger, dwarfing all in its surroundings. But just as we’re about to reach it, a sentry appears from behind the monolith, sparks of fire blooming from her outstretched hands.
“Down!” I scream.
I throw myself to the ground as a ball of fire detonates above our heads, showering us with embers.
“They certainly aren’t playing around, are they?” I say, sweat dripping freely down my face.
“Great observation, Sherlock,” Nibs retorts, spitting mud back out of his mouth.
I flatten myself down as another flaming missile flashes past my head, singeing my hair in its passage.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I cry out to the guard.
“That’s what knights are for,” the woman says, “to kill demons like you two.” She flings her hand again and a third flaming ball hurtles straight at me.
I instinctively raise my hands before me and my stomach heaves in response. A glowing orb the size of a soccer ball blazes into existence from the tip of my fingers then shoots out towards the oncoming projectile. The two spheres of power collide in a sizzling explosion that knocks me backward.
“Wendy’s down!” someone shouts in the distance, the voice breaking through the ringing in my ears.
Blinking tears out of my eyes, I get back up into a low crouch, expecting another attack. But I find the sentry lying on the ground, knocked out cold by the force of the blast.
A fat ball of red rags moans a few paces away.
“Nibs!” I shout, rushing to his aid.
The clurichaun emerges from under the remains of his large jacket, sputtering.
“That bitch is gonna regret it!” he snarls, pumping his fists at the unconscious knight.
“No time,” I say, dragging the dazed clurichaun after me.
But the closer we get to the forest, the more Nibs keeps tripping over his own two wide feet, robbing us of precious seconds.
“Come on,” I urge him as I backtrack to help him up again. “We’re almost there!”
I shield my eyes as a sudden beam of light flashes in front of us then fades away, leaving a soft, glowing circle in the ground behind, runes twinkling along its circumference.
And, standing next to it, is a small boy. “Over here!” he shouts, waving at us excitedly.
The gleam of the magic circle reflects off his sharp teeth and I instantly recognize him: The Fey boy who took me to Avalon.
“A portal!” Nibs wheezes, finding the energy to wrench himself from my grip.
He sets off towards the Fey child at a hobbling run. I hesitate for a second before rushing after him.
“Hurry!” the Fey boy says, his big eyes flashing in the light of the bright runes. “They’re almost—”
A blast of wind rips through the earth, gouging a deep trench between us. As I drop to my knees, I watch Nibs disappear down the wide furrow with a cry of terror.
“Hold on!” I huff, crawling rapidly up to the edge of the long ditch.
The chasm is as deep as it is long, gaping like a ravenous maw below me. It takes me a while to spot Nibs, clinging to the side of the ditch several feet down. I reach for him, feeling the upturned earth under my fingers until they brush up against a head of greasy hair.
“Got ya!” I say, my hand closing around the scruff of Nibs’s shirt before pulling him up.
“Stop right there!” a guard shouts, his voice shrill.
Still holding onto Nibs, I crane my neck around and swallow with difficulty—a line of guards is closing in on us, weapons out, ogham-encrusted hands sparkling with energy.
“Just leave him and come with me,” the Fey boy says from across the ditch, his voice squeaking with fear.
I watch wearily as the knights inch closer, their eyes cold and unforgiving. I bite down on my lip hard, straining not to drop the clurichaun.
Two familiar faces appear in their midst, their heads towering over everyone else’s, and I feel all hope drain out of me.
“Bonsoir, Morgan!” Gauvain shouts, his French accent heavy.
“We’ve come to fletch you!” Gareth adds, his bright smile beaming in the early night.
“Just a second,” I mutter, sweat falling into my eyes.
It may be too late for me to run away, but I can still keep my word to Nibs. With a loud grunt, I swing my arm out and toss Nibs towards the Fey boy and his magic circle.
“Get him out of here!” I yell, turning to face the guards.
“I can’t leave without you!” the Fey boy says, sounding panicky.
“Just go!” I shout back, flexing my fingers, wondering if I can bring back that ball of fire. “I’ll keep them busy.”
“Then remember this,” I hear the Fey boy say over the crackling sounds of elemental magic being called upon by the knights. “When you can, call my name three times and I’ll come fetch you!”
But as he tries to tell me his name, two knights pump their fists in our direction and a gale of wind roars to life, eating up the Fey boy’s words. The mini-tornado spins around me then slices towards Nibs and the Fey boy, ripping the ground in its passage and threatening to cut them to ribbons.
I throw my hands up in a desperate attempt to shield them. The ground shakes in response, the tremors amplifying until it splits open and a wall of earth rises around Nibs and the Fey boy.
The column of wind hits the barrier with a deafening crash, sending debris flying in all directions, pelting the gathered knights with rocks and dirt. Shielding my face, I barely have the time to see the glowing circle wink out of existence before I’m blasted off my feet by another attack, my chest burning in protest.
I land on the packed earth, jarring my teeth.
“Lower your weapons!” Gauvain shouts.
“Or Arthur will extract revenge from all of you,” Gareth adds.
“It’s to ‘exact revenge,’ you dunce,” Gauvain says.
“I really don’t know why you want to dance now,” Gareth retorts, sounding frustrated. “Are you sure the battle with the Fomori didn’t wreck havoc with your brains?”
“I believe you meant ‘wreak havoc,’ dunghill,” Gauvain says, sounding mightily offended.
“It’s one in the same,” Gareth says. “And I don’t appreciate being insulted all the time.”
“One and the same,” Gauvain says through gritted teeth, “just as you and a donkey’s ass are apparently one and the same!”
Head spinning, I push myself back onto my feet just as Gareth punches his cousin in the stomach. The other knights use this opportunity to surround me and, out of the corner of my eye, I see one of them fling his hand towards me.
“Laguz,” he intones.
There’s a shout as a torrent of water bursts out, rearing overhead like a leviathan.
“Morgan!” the cousins shout in unison.
But it’s too late.
I watch with growing horror as the massive wave crests then comes c
rashing down into me. I gasp as the water sweeps me up into its freezing embrace, tumbling me over and around like a washing machine. Finally, when I think I’m about to drown, the stream subsides and leaves me hacking back water in the middle of a miasma of mud and cow manure.
Coughing, I look up as a dozen salamander lights flit into existence in the sky, casting wide shadows on the guards’ angry faces. Hands suddenly grab me, forcing my head down into the mud. I wince as a knee digs into my back.
“You’re going to pay for this, traitor!” a girl hisses in my ear, yanking my head back by the hair and placing a sharp blade against my exposed throat.
“Well that was an interestin’ show,” I hear Percy say, before he pushes his way to the front of the crowd clapping his hands together slowly. “But the spectacle’s over, boys and gals.”
He nods to the cousins and I notice Gareth has the knight who tried to kill me locked in a tight choke hold.
“That means droppin’ your new toys,” Percy tells them.
With a frown, Gareth unclenches his solid arm from around the knight’s neck and the guy drops to his knees, wheezing heavily.
“Especially when they’re not yours to begin with,” Percy adds with a significant look at the knight pinning me down.
I feel a tremor course through the girl and I try to push the knife away before she accidentally cuts my throat open, but the guard pulls harder on my hair and I bite back a sharp yell.
“Release her!”
The knights suddenly stand at attention as Arthur and Lady Ysolt make their way over, both looking extremely annoyed.
“I did warn you about playin’ with other people’s belongings,” Percy says, blowing on his fingernails.
“This Fey escaped from prison and attacked me,” the girl retorts, her knife digging a little deeper.
I feel the familiar pinch of skin breaking open and blood trickles down my neck, warm against my cold skin.
“That makes her a traitor, and a dangerous one,” the knight continues. “And traitors are to be killed!”
“That is not for you to decide, Lady Wendy,” Lady Ysolt says. “The Board rendered its judgment, you should follow its orders.”
“But did they know what she was capable of?” the knight asks, her knee pressing down harder into my back.
“Are you implying the Board is incompetent?” Lady Ysolt replies coldly, her hair looking like fire in the floating salamander lights.
The seconds lengthen, increasing the tension etched in every knight’s face. Finally, the girl speaks up.
“They weren’t in possession of all the facts,” she says, but she doesn’t sound as sure of herself anymore.
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Arthur warns, his voice getting dangerously low.
The guard holding me down grows very still and I catch myself holding my breath in fear.
“Unhand my squire before I have you expelled for breach of duty!” Arthur snaps.
After another long, painful minute, the knife finally leaves my throat and the girl shoves me away with a growl.
“That’s right,” I say as I slowly get up, shaking like a leaf. “You heard the man, now shoo.”
The girl looks at me in disgust, her dark curls stuck to the side of her face with blood. I eye her knife wearily as she clenches its hilt, wondering if she’s going to throw it at me.
“Let’s have Dr. Cockleburr take a look at you,” Lady Ysolt says, steering her away from me and back towards the school, Percy and the cousins doing the same with the rest of the knights.
But as I watch their backs disappear into the night’s shadows, I wish I had been taken away too—anything to avoid having to face Arthur. Not after everything he’s done to me.
“I didn’t need you to step in,” I say, “I’m entirely capable of handling things myself.”
Arthur narrows his eyes at me but remains disconcertingly mute.
“You also mentioned something about squires,” I say, wriggling a finger in my ear to dislodge the sludge in it, “but I’m afraid I misheard.”
Arthur’s face cracks into a tiny smile. “I think you heard me quite well,” he says lazily. “You’re my squire, which means you’re at my beck and call twenty-four seven.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, spattering mud onto his impeccable uniform as I cross my arms.
I look longingly at the forest’s looming tree line, wondering whether I can outrun him. But Arthur steps in front of me, forcing me to look at him.
“It’s either that or you go back to jail,” Arthur says, his smile only getting bigger, and I resist the urge to smack the smarmy look off his face.
He wrinkles his nose at me. “And my first order is for you to take a shower,” he says. “You reek.”
I let the blazing hot water from the showers purge me of all the filth I’ve accumulated, smooth out every single knot of tension from my back. The only thing that won’t go away is my migraine, which surged like some rampant, fire-breathing dragon in my brain right after Arthur talked to me. I wonder if this isn’t my subconscious telling me to avoid his poisonous presence…
My stall’s curtains are suddenly pulled back, and a blast of cool air engulfs itself inside, raising goose bumps down my arms and legs.
“Can’t you see it’s busy?” I bark.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Princess Morgan come back from the dead,” says a very familiar voice.
I wipe the soapsuds out of my eyes to find a fourteen-year old Indian girl eyeing me critically.
“You need to wait your turn, Keva,” I say, snapping the curtains back in place.
I proceed to lather my washcloth with another layer of soap, when Keva opens the curtains again.
“Trust me,” she says. “I would much rather not assist to this deplorable spectacle, but you’ve been summoned.”
“Summoned?” I ask, my stomach twisting on itself with worry.
Has KORT and the Board decided to send me back to jail after all? Are they going to execute me for helping Nibs escape?
Keva throws a towel at my face and I wrap it around myself as quickly as I can despite my trembling fingers.
“To be technical,” she says, “we’ve both been summoned. Part of our newly acquired duties, you see. Woooh!”
“What?” I ask, looking down to make sure I’ve covered everything.
“What did you do to your eyes?” Keva asks, leaning into me so she can stare straight up into my face. “Did you get new contacts? They’re super golden!”
I look down, annoyed. “It’s a side effect,” I grunt, pushing her off away.
“You mean ‘cause you’re Fey and all?” Keva asks, staying close as I head to the lockers.
I dress up quickly, avoiding all the mirrors, unwilling to see my demon side shining through my irises.
“How come you never told me?” Keva asks, leaning against the lockers.
“Because I didn’t know,” I say bitingly. “Someone had conveniently hidden it from me. And when I say someone, I mean everybody!”
“Bitter much?” Keva asks, retouching her makeup. “I know I’d die to have Fey blood if it gave me those eyes.” She pauses, blinking at me. “Well not literally, of course, but gold would look so good with my complexion.”
I slam my locker door closed and am about to put on my jacket when Keva grabs it from me and hands me another one instead.
“New uniform,” she says.
“It looks the same to me,” I retort, trying to snatch my old one back.
Keva dumps the new jacket on my head. “No, dummy. The insignia’s different.” She lets out a loud sigh. “I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I’d forgotten how dense you are.”
Frowning, I hold the jacket before me and look at its breast pocket: A shield has been added behind the pages’ cross. My blackened fingers trace the embroidered crest and I grow thoughtful.
“I thought it took a year to become a squire,” I say.
“There are always
exceptions,” Keva says, admiring her always perfect manicure. “In your case, it’s so Arthur can keep an eye on you at all times. You know, should you decide to go feral or something. As for the rest of us”—she shrugs—“war has a tendency to change things, and quickly. Most of our class has been taken on as squires, except for Elias and Nadia. Oh, and Jack. But that’s only because he’s been recruited to work at the Forge, surprisingly enough.”
I shiver as I put on the jacket. Not once in my wildest imaginings had I envisioned myself in the middle of a war; least of all one that involved fallen angels.
My feet feel heavier and heavier as we head down to the KORT room, a place I’ve come to absolutely abhor. At least the hallways are deserted at this time of night, so I don’t have to deal with everyone’s gawking.
“You’re so lucky,” Keva says with a hearty sigh as we reach the heavy door.
I choke back a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
“Please, Arthur personally selected you to be his squire,” she continues as if speaking to a four-year-old. “Do you even realize what an honor that is? Of course not. Now let me tell you something: Not once in his four years has he bothered to pick anyone, then all of a sudden he goes and picks you, of all people. And I know that he told the Board it was to keep an eye on you, but he could’ve just handed you over to another powerful knight. So you know what I think it means?” She snaps her head around to look at me, dark eyes sparkling, and lowers her voice to a dramatic whisper. “He’s in love with you!”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to start false rumors?”
Keva looks at me, lips pursed in dissent.
“First of all,” I explain, counting on my fingers, “the pompous idiot is already engaged, and to the most beautiful girl in school. And though she is absolutely despicable, she’s a perfect match for him. Second, didn’t it cross your mind that the two-faced, lying bastard is eager to torture me freely? And three, as you said, he’s doing it to keep me from running away again, and probably also hopes to get his dirty paws on Excalibur if he hangs around me long enough.”
Keva’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “Oh yeah, I hadn’t thought about all that. Sad, my version was so much more entertaining.”
Rise of the Fey Page 5
