by Sumida,Amy
And what a party it was. The whole Fire Kingdom had heard the news of the captured queens, and my people had journeyed in to our border to witness the vengeance we all desired. I know it sounds bloodthirsty, but these women had threatened their royal family. In particular, the princes whom the fire fey had never dreamed to have; my miracle sons who were our greatest treasure.
So yes, we were bloodthirsty. Very thirsty indeed. May blood flow and fire burn.
Still, I knew I wouldn't be completely at ease with this hunt until I was in my dragon form, and I couldn't shift until my other men had arrived. Mainly, because I wanted to greet them properly. For the moment, I stood outside Aithinne beside Arach and Trevor. Around us were throngs of our fire fey. They filled the entire clearing before Aithinne, and stretched back onto the Road of Neutrality. They even overflowed into the Forgetful Forest.
Directly behind Arach, Trevor, and I, were the members of the Wild Hunt. The leanan-sidhe, those beautiful but deadly blood drinkers, stood calm and poised in flowing silk gowns. The goblins however, both the short and the massive red cap variety, drooled as they looked over the ex-queens... and not in a sexy way. There were phookas with the Hunt as well. They were already in their hulking canine form, snarling, and occasionally barking. Among the phookas were little imps, who held whirring weapons they'd crafted themselves. They were the only fey I knew of who were technically savvy. The Hidden Ones were probably the most fearsome members of the Hunt, next to Arach and I that is. They had mind-boggling bodies whose grotesque amalgamations could give the stoutest man nightmares. But the ones who always surprised me were the pixies.
We had both fire and earth pixies in my kingdom. Though the earth pixies had long ago sworn their fealty to Fire, and had become fire pixies, at least in name. Pixies, in general, had been looked down upon before my arrival in Faerie. It was due to the amount of magic they held. Their tiny bodies simply couldn't contain as much elemental essence as other fey. Even if you looked past that lack, their size alone made the thought of them joining the Wild Hunt, laughable. Not any more. The pixies were now valued members of my kingdom, and had proven themselves worthy of riding with the Hunt. It was amazing how far determination could get you.
The ex-earth pixies, in particular, were eager for the kill. They had been sorely abused in their old kingdom, particularly by their old queen, and this hunt would be about more than revenge for us, their new rulers. This was very personal for them, and you could see it on their viciously painted faces. They clutched their little swords, and leered at their old queen like they could already taste her blood.
Aalish had given up on pleas and tears as soon as she'd heard about her husband's death. She'd gone into a near catatonic state, and had remained that way until the Hidden Ones had emerged from Aithinne to great fanfare. My precious Hidden Ones, once consigned to a dismal existence beneath the castle, were now the darlings of my kingdom. Gladiators of the Hunt. The fire fey cheered for them, eager to see the terror that only the Hidden Ones could inspire.
And boy did they.
Sometimes it was hard for me to remember that I'd once been terrified of the Hidden Ones myself. But that was before I knew them, saw past their nightmarish visages to the strong, fey hearts beneath. Now they were family, impossible for me to fear. Still, I was deeply satisfied that they had a terrifying affect on the fey of other kingdoms.
Even the spirit knights, whom King Cian had sent with us to guard the prisoners, flinched when they spotted the Hidden Ones. It was a testament to their courage that they stood their ground, and didn't shirk their duty to follow what must have been a strong instinct to run. Instead, the men stood firm, holding tight to their twisting charges, whose courage had immediately failed them.
Dubheasa, who had been provided with a raggedy set of clothing, had nonetheless stood proudly, as if dressed in the finest silk. She had been staring out at the crowd of faeries, silently scornful. But Dubheasa lost that scorn, and Aalish was jolted out of her catatonia, when the Hidden Ones came to stand at my back.
The women started to scream, and the fire fey cheered louder. But nothing could drown out those shrieks. They weren't your average sounds of terror. These were the screeching wails of women on the verge of madness, so panic-stricken that they cried while they screamed, turning it into a pathetic melody of broken sobs and hysterics. They screamed their throats raw, clutching each other desperately, until the terror abated enough for them to huddle and merely whimper.
The knights guarding them had clearly been affected by the scene. It was hard not to be. These were men who were trained to protect, and above all else, obey royalty. Standing there, doing nothing, while faerie queens went insane with fear, was not something that came easily to them. They hadn't been directly wronged by the women, so they didn't have the anger we did, to destroy their guilt.
I gestured to our red cap Captain, “Relieve the spirit knights of their duties, Fearghal. Thank them on my behalf, and tell them we would prefer to handle things from here on out.”
Fearghal looked over to the tense knights and nodded, “Yes, my queen. I'm thinking they've shown enough courage for one day.”
He lumbered over to the knights, and I watched as they sagged in relief. All of them saluted Fearghal, and then bowed to Arach and I, before making a hasty retreat into the castle. They'd have to wait till after the festivities for a carriage to return them to the Castle of Eight, but at least they wouldn't have to witness anything further.
Four red caps surrounded our prisoners, an event which would have frightened anyone. But Dubheasa and Aalish were numb from their earlier terror. They'd been drained of the worst of their fear, and so barely spared the goblins a glance. Instead, they kept their terrified eyes set firmly on the ground, holding each other's hands as they tried to regain their composure. They may have been frightened out of their minds, but they had also been queens of Faerie, and you could see that within their stances. These women were accustomed to ruling. Screaming and running simply weren't done. But they would learn quickly with the Wild Hunt on their heels.
“They're here,” Arach nodded toward the carriage pulling up in front of Aithinne, on the Road of Neutrality. The mass of fire fey drew back, out of the way.
I went over with Trevor and Arach, to greet my men, my eyes widening as they emerged from the coach. Each one was dressed for war, and I shouldn't have been surprised by their appearances. But this was different than their normal battle gear.
I saw Odin first, due to the fact that he wasn't in the carriage. He rode up on Sleipnir, his horse. The myths said Sleipnir was the son of Loki (Fenrir's dad), and that he had eight legs. Neither was true. Sleipnir was a swift runner, magically fast, but he had the normal amount of legs, and was born to a pair of purely equine parents. Still, he was impressive.
I gaped as the giant horse pawed anxiously at the packed earth road, its steel shod feet sparking against stray rocks. Odin sat fierce and proud upon its back, a winged helm curving up from his temples, and Gungnir, his spear, in his hand. He was bare chested, wearing only a pair of sable leather pants. For accessories, he had on high boots and a thick belt, but there was no sword hanging from the belt. It looked like the Allfather would be fighting with Gungnir alone. Then I realized that Odin wouldn't be fighting at all. This wasn't battle gear, these were the hunting leathers of the Lord of the Wild Hunt.
Yes, there was more than one, and they were sort of related. Though Odin's version of the Hunt was manned by the dead, while Arach's hunters were very much alive. Still, there was a kinship between them, one that had allowed Odin into Faerie once before. Back when I had been the prey of the Wild Hunt, and Arach had ran me to ground. I remembered the horns blaring, and the fear riding my veins like a drug. I almost pitied Dubheasa and Aalish. Almost.
Odin bowed his head to us in acknowledgment, but remained in the saddle. He led Sleipnir over to us while my other men exited the coach.
Azrael stepped out with his head bowed. Once outside,
he straightened with the air of an archangel. His wings spread with intimidating glory as he surveyed the scene before him imperially, his eyes going straight to his prey. I glanced over, and saw the prisoners shiver and moan, on the verge of returning to hysteria. That's how terrible Azrael's countenance was. And he hadn't even gone Death on them yet. He wore his traditional armor, though it was missing several key components. Like anything above the waist.
It seemed that my men thought hunting was best done bare-chested. Not that I'm complaining.
Az tore his gaze away from the women, and walked over to give me a warm hug, completely at odds with his furious countenance. Then he greeted Arach and Trevor, before he took up a spot beside us.
I had missed Kirill's exit from the coach while I was hugging Az, but I was able to fully appreciate his prowl over to me. Kirill's hair was braided back, and his chest was as bare as everyone else's. But this wasn't surprising. He was dressed as minimally as Trevor, in a loose pair of sweatpants, like they always wore into battle. He'd be shifting, as would my wolf, so those pants would be shredded in seconds. But even though I'd seen it before, I smiled in appreciation of Kirill's muscular display, and almost missed the most shocking appearance of all; Re.
Re stepped from the coach as if to applause. He lifted his head regally, and moved towards me with purposeful steps. His hair was loose, kept from getting in the way by a simple leather band around his forehead. He wore no gold or dramatic pieces of armor, like he normally would for battle. Only brown leather pants, with a thick hunting knife hanging from his belt. His eyes were lined with the traditional Egyptian patterns he was known for, thick kohl with sweeping curls to imitate the eyes of a falcon. But this was all the adornment he wore. He looked every inch the predator in his subdued clothing, yet Re could never truly be plain. His very skin and eyes prevented that, gleaming like gold. He was a god playing down his godhood, and it somehow made him even more magnificent.
“You look good,” I uttered the biggest understatement of the year.
“We're hunting, correct?” Re smiled ferociously. “It's more important to blend in when you're on the hunt.”
“True,” Odin conceded, “but I'll have no hope of that, not when I intend to ride through the sky beside Vervain.”
“Through the sky?” I looked over to Odin with a lifted brow. “And how exactly will you manage that?”
“The way I have every time I've rode at the head of the Wild Hunt,” he winked at me. “My Wild Hunt, that is. With Sleipnir.”
“Sleipnir can fly?” I blinked at the horse.
“He's a horse of the Hunt, Vervain,” Odin gave me a smug smile.
“Oh, right,” I made an amused sound. “Of course he can fly. Why not? And by the way, everyone,” I looked at my husbands and boyfriend. “You all look incredible. Thank you for coming.”
“As if we wouldn't be anxious to sink our teeth into anyone who tried to hurt you or the babies,” Re scoffed. “We're here because we want to be,” he turned, and shook Arach's hand. “And we won't forget your consideration, Fire King.”
“My pleasure,” Arach said, and then, with a gleam in his eye, he added, “Just remember my generosity when you find Morrigan. I would appreciate some reciprocation.”
I turned to Arach in surprise. So that was the reason for this exception. He wanted a bargaining chip to get in on Morrigan's kill.
“Understood,” Odin nodded crisply, answering for the men. “You will have your pound of flesh, Fire King.”
“Thank you. I will savor it,” Arach paused as the sun set, and lifted his head.
We all watched the sky blush, and then darken to shades of blood, as if even the air knew what was to come. The massive crowd went silent as night settled around us, even though it took several minutes. No one moved, not even a twitch from Sleipnir. We were all frozen with anticipation.
Finally, darkness embraced us, and Arach turned back to me. With his movement, it was like a spell broke. The other faeries leapt into action, lighting torches, and setting faerie lights to bob over the growling crowd. Aalish and Dubveasa looked very small, standing there in thick, magic dampening manacles. No chains, just the metal around their wrists. We didn't want them to use magic, but we did want them to run freely.
Arach pulled me against him, and kissed me more intimately than he usually did in public. When he pulled away, his eyes were glowing in the darkness. He breathed in my scent, and breathed out a thin stream of fire over my lips, just a little show of affection between dragons. I wasn't sure who the show was for, our prisoners or my other men. It didn't matter. Arach had been generous in inviting my men here, so I'd let the little things slide. I licked my lips and he smiled wide.
“Are you ready, A Thaisce?”
I nodded, and Arach let me go, to turn to the crowd.
“Fire faeries!” he shouted. “Honored guests,” he nodded to my other men. “We gather tonight to claim the vengeance we've long been denied.”
Our faeries shouted their approval.
“I'm grateful to all of you who have traveled far in from the outer villages to support your king and queen, as we seek justice for the attempted murder of our children, your princes.” Furious cries mixed with the cheers. “But I'm not surprised you're here. As the most recent attack on our kingdom has proven, fire faeries are the bravest, most loyal, and stalwart fey there are!” The cheering returned full force. “You faced down a tidal wave beside your queen! Never once did you waver!” They cheered even louder. “And now you are here to see blood flow and fire burn. We are the House of Fire! Woe betide any who come against us. For our vengeance shall find them in the night. It shall fly upon wings and thunder across the earth. It will bleed them with teeth and claws. It will consume them with open jaws and licking tongues. The blare of our horns and the echoes of our hungry roars will strike terror in the hearts of all who hear us. Tonight the Wild Host shall hunt!”
The applause and cheering became deafening.
Arach yanked off his velvet tunic, and tossed it aside. His pants and boots followed until he stood beside me nude, holding out a hand to me. I took it a little reluctantly. This was my least favorite part. I hated getting naked in front of people. But I was queen, and I couldn't show embarrassment in front of my faeries. I was supposed to be proud of my body, even if it were a bit more wobbly than most faerie physiques.
Before I could even sigh; Trevor, Kirill, Azrael, and Re gathered around us. Odin eased up behind us, and together they formed a living screen for my modesty. I smiled my thanks to them, and stripped as Arach chuckled. Then Arach and I shifted together, my men backing away from us as we did. Soon we stood as dragons, one red and one gold. We flexed our cramped muscles and preened in the firelight. It couldn't be helped, dragons loved to show off, and our fire fey loved to encourage us. They shouted and applauded as their king and queen reveled in their beasts.
I leaned my head to Arach's, and we rubbed our jaws along each other's briefly. The scent of dragon musk filled my nose, and stoked the fire in my belly. Around us, Trevor and Kirill were shifting as the faeries stamped and snarled, waiting only on their monarchs to make the first move. I looked down, and saw a werewolf and a black lion prowling anxiously around my feet. Next to me, Sleipnir pranced in place with Odin on his back, and beside them was Azrael. Correction, Death.
Death had come to Faerie, and the fire fey spared him more than one impressed glance. Azrael seemed even larger when he was in his Death guise. His ebony wings were curved over his head, forming a faux hood, and within the shadows of that hood his face had gone skeletal. Every part of him had actually. He didn't usually wear so little clothing when he became Death. There was normally a cloak or robes involved. This time however, his entire chest was bare, and although I could still see a ghostly specter of his body, Azrael's skeleton glowed through it; a macabre display of rib cage and arm bones. He stretched those glowing arms wide as he lowered his head. His jaw dropped open on an sinister screech, which sounded as if
it had been pulled straight out of Hell. The sockets of his eyes burned with the light of stars as acid dripped down his cheeks to sizzle upon the ground.
I shivered in appreciation. Oh yes, that's all mine.
“Stop showing off,” Trevor growled at Azrael before turning to Arach. “Arach, get on with it already.”
Arach roared.
The red caps, who had been watching over our prisoners, shoved the women forward upon that dragon command. Dubheasa and Aalish took one look at the Wild Hunt, and went screaming and stumbling into the Forgetful Forest. We let them get a few minutes head start, and then I bunched my leg muscles and leapt into the air. Arach was right beside me, and the flying members of the Hunt took to the sky with us. I looked over at Odin and gave a happy screech. Sleipnir was flanking me, his paws tromping through open air as if they rode over solid land. To the right of them flew Azrael, his skeletal visage fully revealed as his wings beat at the air.
Beneath us, the horde of the Hunt rushed forward; Trevor, Kirill, and Re leading them. Re was doing better than I'd thought he would, keeping up with Kirill's lion and Trevor's werewolf with ease. The Sun God was super fast, though I'd never tell him how impressed I was. His ego needed no encouragement.
Kirill roared and Trevor howled in response. The call of the beasts lightened my heart. I inhaled deeply of the cold night air, warming it with the raging fire inside me. I could see my prey below me easily, despite the thick cover of the Forgetful Forest. My dragon eyes caught the gleam of pale skin and yellow hair. The curve of shaking hands, and the flash of terrified eyes. It was so beautiful to me. A moment of sublime victory. I wanted to draw it out and savor it. So I curved back, taunting my prey by dipping low, and then streaking up again.
