Echoes from the Veil (Aisling Chronicles)

by Colleen Halverson

  “Thank you for joining us,” I said.

  Torc nodded. “I will hold you to your word.”

  I gripped his shoulder and drew him close. “And I will keep it. I see a future now, a future where there is peace on both sides of the Veil.”

  Torc smiled. “Your mother had visions, too.”

  I lifted my chin and closed my eyes, gathering Torc, his tribe, and all those weapons close to my own energy. Soaring through the astral plane, I set a course for the Seven Woods, to our cave. But instead of returning to our quiet military camp, we touched down into chaos.

  Chapter Twenty

  Hundreds of Fae scattered about, shouting at each other, carrying large logs toward a clearing beyond the caves. In the middle of the chaos stood Eamonn, sweat beading down his face. I raced toward him, grabbing his arm and twisting him around to face me.

  “What’s going on?”

  He met my gaze, his bloodshot eyes filled with panic. “The Fir Bolgs. A massive army. They’re coming this way.”

  My blood ran cold, and I clenched my fists. “How far away are they?”

  “Maybe a few hours,” he panted. “Maybe less.” He paused, running his hand through his shaggy hair. “And…”

  “What?” I asked in a whisper.

  Eamonn swallowed hard, his eyes shimmering. “They took Grainne. The raid. She… They took her.”

  My stomach bottomed out, my vision waving in and out. White-hot rage filled my chest, and I glanced at the sky, at the warm morning sun blazing just above the tree line. The purple bruise of the black hole still festered, but it didn’t appear much larger. Lightning flashed deep inside its cloudy depths, and for a moment, my feet no longer touched the ground as the spinning darkness lured me into its shadow.

  “We can’t stay here,” Eamonn said. “They took Grainne to Teamhair. They want a trade. You for her.”

  “I’ll get her back. I can travel to her and break her out of there.” I closed my eyes, seeking out Grainne’s energy, projecting myself over the Faerie realm and into Teamhair. She was there. I could feel her, and yet something—some force—stood in my way every time I tried to approach. The darkness closed in on me, and her light retreated like a rainbow after a storm—so close, but out of reach.

  “Fuck.” I opened my eyes and shook my head. “I can’t. It’s some kind of ward or spell. She’s somewhere I can’t go.”

  Eamonn let out a strained cry. I glanced around at the Fae running across the caves, disorganization and chaos everywhere. We could leave. I could take them all—somewhere. Back to the mortal world, to Fianna headquarters. Anywhere. But with such a massive army on our turf, we had a chance to do damage, weaken their forces, which would make taking Teamhair that much easier. We didn’t have their sophisticated weaponry or their numbers, but we knew the forest, each rock and tree. A few hours wasn’t a long time, but it could be enough to lay a trap.

  Behind me, Torc let out a frustrated cry, interrupting my thoughts.

  “What the fuck is this shit?” He gestured wildly. “I thought you had a plan. You bring me here. You bring my crew here. You ask us to fight for you. But what the fuck is this?”

  His crew glared at me, raising their weapons.

  I lifted my hands. “It’s a war, Torc. That’s what it is. Now, are you prepared to fight or not?”

  “With what army, Princess?” he shouted. His tribe nodded, many of them snarling.

  “We have each other. We have dragans. And the Fianna—”

  “THE FIANNA!” Torc’s face turned a brilliant shade of purple, and I clutched my spear tighter.

  “Yes.” I forced my voice to remain calm. “If the Fir Bolgs succeed and destroy our ties to the mortal world, magic ends. They will die. You and all your crew will die. No more magic. That’s it.”

  “I didn’t ask for a suicide mission,” Torc growled.

  “And I didn’t ask for any of this!” My voice echoed across the fields. “But I’m here. I’m still fighting. And I will fight for you. For the Fae. For the damned Fianna. Even if I’m the last person standing on this field, I will do what I can to stop the Fir Bolgs.” I swept my gaze across the púcas. “I know many of you are thinking how we could possibly succeed against such a force and why you should even bother. Your home is London. Not Tír na nÓg. But all of us come from one source, and it’s here.”

  I pointed to the hole in the sky. “No matter where we go, if we can’t protect this realm, it’s over for us. If you stay in London—you’re dead. If you stay in Tír na nÓg and refuse to fight, you will have to live beneath the yoke of a ruler who cares nothing for you. We know the consequences of that.”

  Many of the púcas nodded, lowering their weapons slightly, glancing at their leader. Torc’s ruddy face had turned a blazing shade of scarlet, a frown stretched across his face and burrowing into his bright red beard. He slung his confiscated, sparkly M16 higher on his shoulder and let out a long exhale.

  “We cannot turn back now,” I said to him, my voice quiet and solemn amidst the charged scene outside of the cave. “Not when we have a chance to change the course of our futures.” I glanced across the field to the Fae and the terrified looks on their faces.

  Did we have a chance? I clutched my spear tightly to my chest. If I doubted it, I couldn’t let them know.

  Torc crossed his arms. “And what of the Fianna? They’ve controlled our futures for long enough.”

  “And that ends here. With us. I swear it.”

  Torc sneered and turned away, returning to his crew.

  Eamonn gripped my arm. “What about Grainne?”

  I placed my palm over his, capturing his gaze. “We’ll get her back, I promise.”

  His face turned gray, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

  “The Fir Bolgs are coming, and Grainne would want us to use this moment to our advantage. They won’t hurt her. It’s me they want.” I glanced around the chaos surrounding us and willed calm to cast over my mind. Steely resolve took over my limbs, a plan locking into place. “They are expecting this.” I waved my hand across the scattering soldiers. “A ragtag, disorganized army. What they’re not expecting are allies. An air assault. We have the opportunity to decimate a considerable part of their forces. They think they’re coming to make their final stand, to destroy us. But we’re going to crush them.”

  “How?” he asked.

  “If it’s me they want, they’ll have to catch me.” I quickly ran down my plan to Eamonn and then called over what was left of my commanders. We squatted behind a boulder, heads huddled together as I drew lines in the dirt with a stick, using leaves and twigs to signify important landmarks in the surrounding woods. The attack was simple enough, but with a lot of moving parts. Each faction would play a role, but they would have to play it perfectly.

  I pointed toward the west, to a line of pebbles I had set up. “We bottleneck them at the canyon. We make them think it was their idea.”

  Torc smirked. “And then BOOM.”

  The others laughed, and even I managed a small smile. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes, boom is the idea.”

  My gaze wandered up to the black hole above. Didn’t the Fir Bolgs see? Did they even care? I thought of what Malachy had said, how some of the Fir Bolgs wanted peace and democracy. War was stupid. I wished we could sit at a table and sort it all out, but with thousands of wee Faerie men armed to the teeth with immortal-piercing M16s heading this way, gunning for our annihilation, it seemed a quick chat over tea would be impossible. I shook my head, taking a deep breath. I had no choice now but violence, and I had to be clever about it.

  “We don’t have much time,” I said. “I’m going to grab the Fianna. Be ready when I return. We’re cutting it close.”

  They dispersed, Torc barking orders, and I lingered in the clearing for a moment, my heart racing. Within minutes, the disord
er turned to something that looked like a clear mission, and I prepared myself to return to Fianna headquarters in Galway.

  “What do I do?” Eamonn asked, his face still as pale as a ghost.

  I placed a hand on his shoulder. “You need to protect your work. Ward it. Protect the blood. Protect the spell.”

  “But Grainne—”

  “If we don’t get something that will work to destroy the device, it doesn’t matter what we do. Thornton will open a portal to the Tree of Life and the universe will collapse. It’s as simple as that.”

  His face fell.

  “We will get her back, I promise,” I said. “I will lure them away from the cave. Don’t stop working on a solution. Now that Morven’s gone, we need you more than ever.”

  He nodded, his shoulders slumping as he returned to his lab.

  I closed my eyes, traveling through the Veil and back into Fianna headquarters. The Great Hall was as I had left it, with Talia looming in the corner and Malachy sitting beneath her, sipping on tea. However, the rest of the chamber teemed with energy. Soldiers in black carrying and stacking weapons and explosives. Michael Loren—the leader of the Druids—in the middle of a throng of his order, the Druids’ white robes making them appear as a flock of swans swarming him. I lingered in the shadows, unnoticed. Across the hall stood Finn, his old Fianna crew surrounding him: Seamus, Máirtín, and Regina. By his shadowed eyes, I could tell he hadn’t slept, but he chatted with them as he worked, the occasional soft smile cracking across his hard face. This was once his life. Weapons and battle. The Fianna policed the mortal world against the Fae, tracking them, hunting them. Their leader, Amergin, magically made the Fianna immortal, and sometimes the weight of those years passed across Finn’s eyes like a glacier. He had once had a life here, and he had given it all up for me—for us. Now, with Charlotte returned from the dead, I couldn’t help but feel a terrible sense of doubt. What if he changed his mind and chose her? I shook my head. If we didn’t fix this, defeat the Fir Bolgs, and somehow bring two Celtic gods back together, none of us would ever be able to choose anything ever again.

  I marched across the room, a wave of silence following me as I approached Finn. He stiffened as I walked up to him, slowly setting down the AR-15 he held back into the crate. He read me like a book, his face falling and his shoulders dropping slightly.

  “What is it?” he said in a choked voice.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Grainne,” I whispered.

  Malachy appeared beside me. “What happened?”

  “They took her.”

  Gasps swept through the chamber, a low murmur turning to a roar. Finn towered over me, his face turning a deep shade of red.

  “It’s me they want,” I said, staring up at him. “The Fir Bolgs are in the Seven Woods. They’re coming for us. For me.”

  Finn let out a deep exhale, shaking his head. “What do we do?”

  The question echoed deep in my chest. Finn was the one with the plans, and the chaos written upon his face carved a hollow space in my stomach, as if someone had drained all my insides and left only a shell. Seamus stood there scowling; Máirtín and Regina held onto each other. Grainne was one of them once. They’d fought as a team, but would they fight for me? Fianna and Druids studied me with hooded eyelids; so many of them only knew me from what felt like ages ago, as a pawn in Amergin’s political games. I straightened my shoulders, surveying them, the Fianna’s sleek bodies, the Druids’ stoic faces. I had the plans now. I saw the pieces shifting across the chessboard, each piece collapsing, every move returning to the beginning. For too long, I had seen this war as black and white, but the Fir Bolgs, Thornton—they were all a distraction to our final act of redemption. This universe was worth saving, and we could make sure these connected worlds survived. The path lay clear. The Morrígan had sowed chaos, but we still had a chance to set it right.

  The first step—take care of the Fir Bolgs on our own turf. We had the advantage and the power. We just needed to be smart.

  “We’re going to meet them,” I said. “And destroy them.”

  Finn paused, staring into my eyes, mentally checking boxes, reading my mind in that uncanny way only he could. Finally, he nodded.

  “We don’t have much time,” I said, stepping to his chest. I whispered in his ear, “Have you spoken to Charlotte?”

  “She wants my forgiveness. She wants things to be as they were. I… I cannot believe a word out of her mouth. She is full of lies.”

  The doors to the Great Hall boomed open and Amergin emerged with Charlotte beside him, still bound in gemel and heavily guarded. Charlotte’s gaze settled on Finn, her wide eyes storms of emotion. If she had loved him so much, why had she stayed away? What had she been doing all that time? But those questions would have to wait. We needed to figure out how to destroy the device, and if she could aid Eamonn, it was worth the risk of having her around. I wished I could stop time, talk to her, help her understand, but with each second the clock ticked by, and the Fir Bolgs came closer to our camp.

  “We need to go,” I said to Amergin as he approached. I could feel Charlotte’s steely gaze, but I ignored her. “The Fir Bolgs are in the Seven Woods and they’re ready to attack.”

  “So why would we go there?” Amergin asked.

  “They sent most of their army to get to me. If we can destroy the majority of their forces, we can walk right into Teamhair.” My thoughts wandered to Grainne, trapped in a lonely tower or dark dungeon cell. I had to believe she would be all right, that she would make it. “We’ve set a trap for them. If the Fianna and Druids do their part, we will claim victory.”

  Amergin raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How do I know you’re not leading us into a trap?”

  “Because if I wanted to kill you all, I could do it right now,” I snapped. “We need to go. You said you would fight with us, and this is the plan. Unless you have a better idea, we need to go. Now.”

  He stared back at me, exhaling slowly.

  “Take us to Tír na nÓg,” he said. “Take us back to the Faerie realm.”

  I assessed the Great Hall, the massive fighting force collected there along with weapons and supplies, and closing my eyes, I gathered them all in close. It had been so long since I had done that—collecting armies, traveling with them over miles and miles of distance. It was my original training in a way, and maybe that’s why I feared it the most. Taking control, leading, making choices. Before, I was a pawn in someone else’s war, and winning and losing meant little to me. I merely wanted to survive. But now, I held so many lives in my hands. My dad once said there were no good choices in war, just not-so-bad choices. Every decision meant death. Every move meant destruction of life somehow, somewhere. But this battle was no longer about me, or saving Finn, or rescuing Grainne. There was something broken in the world, and we needed to fix it.

  When I opened my eyes again, a rush of light hit me, and I blinked for a moment, feeling the wash of sudden fatigue from the magic. I squeezed my fists. I couldn’t rest now. Fae rushed about the camp, but in the thick of the madness, an ordered chaos had emerged. Sharp commands echoed through the forest, the traps for the Fir Bolgs falling into place. I allowed myself a small smile, and I turned around, seeking out Finn. He stood amidst the Fianna, a little apart. The rest of them gazed blearily around at the sudden change in place, but he remained still as a mountain, towering over them all, his hand on his sword. Without missing a beat, he directed the Fianna and Druids to the weapons, and they began to file in line, grim looks on their hard faces.

  I walked up to Finn and made a line in the dirt, drawing two small circles with my boot. “We are going to lure them into the canyon,” I said. “And I want the Fianna here and here.” I pointed to the spots. “The Druid fire first in the small dip in the landscape right by the rapids. And then, the Fianna can pick off the rest. We have blinds set up in this area. Make sure they get
there. We don’t have much time.”

  He nodded and relayed the information to Amergin and Michael Loren. Charlotte stood near Amergin, a scowl distorting her face. I had no idea what to do with her, but we sure as hell couldn’t leave her behind. We needed Amergin at the blinds to lead the attack, and we didn’t need five Fianna bound up guarding her.

  I sought out Malachy, who stood beside Talia and the rest of the dragans in their human-esque forms. I ushered them over and pointed to my makeshift canyon.

  “We need you down inside, but fly low getting there,” I said. “We need the shock-and-awe factor. When you see me, it’s go time.”

  As they took off into the trees, Malachy called over his shoulder, “Try not to get shot!”

  I swallowed hard, shrugging off the gnawing anxiety deep in my stomach. That was the hole in this plan. Stopping bullets long enough to get to the canyon. I straightened my spine, climbing up the cave to get a better view. I’d barely made it two feet when a púca in wolf form raced through the camp, transitioning back to his Fae self.

  “The Fir Bolgs are coming,” he panted.

  Shit. They were early.

  “How many?” I said.

  “A lot,” he replied. “Maybe five thousand? They’re just three miles from us.”

  Finn appeared at my side, strapped to the teeth with not just his sword but several knives and pistols.

  “I hate that you’re going to be exposed like this.” He frowned, his hand gripped on the pommel of his sword.

  I peered into the distance, searching for the line of Fir Bolgs. “It’s the only way. They won’t fight unless they think they might get the prize.” I scanned the trees, mentally checking off each party as they took their stations. “They need me to be able to enter Mag Mell. I don’t know how or why. But they won’t risk shooting at me if they believe I’m their only chance.”