The Forgotten Trilogy

by Cecilia Randell

  “No!” she cried out. No, they needed Daniel. He was their ticket to controlling the confrontation with Balor.

  Then her gaze caught on something else.

  Her harp, the Uaithne, in its case. It was slung across Finn’s back. They’d left it with him for safe keeping when they’d gone to visit Alatrom.

  The three attackers were concentrating on Finn. He took the brunt of the assault, and Bat knew why. They were after the harp. Killer and the other hounds were doing what they could, snapping at the enemy’s legs, but they never seemed to connect.

  The fae had twisted toward her and Shar at her cry. Why were they just standing there? Neall and Faolan were slack-faced for a split second before their expressions transformed into determination. Shadows shot out of Faolan, wrapping themselves around one of the men. Neall… changed. His body grew taller, his face thinned, and fangs sprouted from his mouth. Unlike the men of ba, whose teeth were thin needles, Neall’s were large and triangular, almost like a shark’s.

  They were teeth made to slice through flesh and tear it from the bone.

  Neall dove for the man who had Daniel and Old Mike. He aimed for the legs, a fierce predator determined to cripple his prey.

  The attacker screamed and released Old Mike, who then hung on to Daniel and attempted to pull him away. A sword came down on Neall’s back, slicing deep enough to reveal bone through his clothing and bloody muscles.

  More shadows stretched across the few feet separating them all as the other sluagh joined in a beat too late.

  Ailis and the other trooping fae shook their heads and blinked. Her eyes widened then narrowed as she pulled a dagger and dove into the fight.

  The rest remained where they were. The leprechauns, Con, Saoirse, Dechtire, the banshees… why did they not fight?

  Flash. Bat, the harp in her hands. She stood alone on the pier as she plucked the strings. Melody poured forth, the soothing notes weaving through the air in a subtle dance. Those notes entered the ears and minds of all who listened and calmed them. They dropped their weapons and arms as they swayed where they stood. A few sat on the rough wood planks and stared out at the waves of the sea.

  The battle ceased as Bat played. She spoke of the rest after a battle, of the time in the deep of the night when armies slept. She told them of the peace of coming home after the war. She painted pictures of restful nights beside a fire, laughing with comrades.

  She painted this picture, and she did it all with the harp.

  “Ailis!” she cried out. “The harp. Get me the harp!”

  Ailis didn’t turn, but she must have heard Bat. She went straight for Finn. The sluagh had their shadows wrapped around all four of the enemy. Snarls and clashing metal still sounded behind her, drawing closer.

  No time, they had no time. She needed the harp.

  “Shar. Please.”

  No answer from her giant. They were surrounded by the rest of the fae now, who shifted restlessly on their feet.

  Finn had been right. They were a ragtag bunch of misfits who didn’t know how to work together. This was their first test, and they were failing.

  “I need you to trust me,” she said, reaching behind her to find his cheek. “Trust me, my giant.”

  There was a low growl, but his arm loosened.

  “The harp, I need it.” Bat pushed power behind those words.

  It was Teagan who answered that power. The dark-haired banshee raced toward Ailis and Finn, then past them. She dove onto the back of one of the Fomoiri, opened her mouth, and screamed.

  Blood erupted from the man’s eyes, nose and ears. His mouth fell open and he dropped to his knees.

  Teagan leapt away, but not before one of the enemy’s blades found her side. She staggered away and fell to one knee at the edge of the dock. Swaying, she fell into the water.

  “No!” Meera stepped forward, but Saoirse was faster. The brown-haired girl dove into the sea after the banshee.

  Teagan’s distraction provided Finn just enough time to withdraw from the fight and shrug the harp case over his head. Ailis sprinted back to Bat and laid the precious treasure in her hands.

  The Uaithne.

  The Dagda’s harp.

  One of the four treasures of the Tuatha de Danaan.

  Bat was about to learn exactly why it was considered as such, and why most armies surrendered in the face of it.

  She opened the case and then let it drop to her feet, promising herself she would remember it after everything was over.

  She cradled the smooth wood against her, placed her fingers over the strings, and began.

  It was hard at first. Even with the vision, she struggled to find the correct tune, the melody that would speak of finished battles. Every time she’d played the harp before this, the songs were instinctive. She put into them what she felt. She simply… added to what was already being played.

  Now she needed to create something new.

  The song started out hesitant. A few notes plucked with no rhythm. Nevertheless, the warriors paused—on both sides.

  She closed her eyes, needing to better concentrate on the song. Shar hovered over her, his heat reminding her that she wasn’t alone. Metal crashed together around her, flesh struck flesh, and cries of pain called to her to finish this.

  Bat imagined the scene from her vision. She envisioned the attacking Fomoiri laying down their weapons. She conjured up images of them resting together.

  Her fingers moved of their own accord. The song picked up speed.

  So this was how it worked. She did not need to know the song to play. She needed to tell the harp what she wanted—the instrument would do the rest.

  Gradually, the sounds of battle faded, leaving behind harsh breathing amidst the gentle lap of waves against the shore and pilings of the dock. Shar’s arm wrapped back around her as her fingers slowed. She opened her eyes.

  Their enemies were laid out on the wood slats of the dock, sleeping. Of the fae who had come to help Bat, those who remained whole were helping the injured to stand.

  It was over.

  For now.

  She twisted her head back and up so she could see Shar. His lapis-gaze met hers. “All right?” she asked. She didn’t mean only him.

  He picked her up, one arm around her back and the other under her legs, uncaring about his injury. “All right enough.”

  “Shar, you are injured. Put me down.”

  Her giant grimaced, but set her on her feet. Then he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and headed for the boat.

  Mell came alongside them, his left arm hanging limp at his side. Ari and the men of ba strode ahead of them, leading the way. Small cuts marred their dark and wrinkled skin, and Adom left behind a small trail of blood from a deep cut on his thigh.

  Meera and Neasa helped Saoirse pull Teagan from the water. Con helped Ailis as she limped beside Eoghan and Cliona. Ailbe and Casey—the leprechauns—trailed after Neall and the other sluagh who supported their friend, their short arms outstretched in case they needed to catch one of the shadow wielding immortals. The pixies darted above everyone, murmuring among themselves in worried tones. Finn and Finnegan brought up the rear along with the hounds.

  Bat looked up from where she was cradled against Shar. Dub and Cuchi stood at the side of the boat. Each held a limp form. These were tossed over the rail and into the water. As Dub turned to head back to the bridge, she caught sight of his side. It was covered in a deep red stain.

  Her heart pounded. She assured herself that the wounds couldn’t be that bad, otherwise he wouldn’t be moving so well. Plus, Finn can heal him with a sip of water from his hands. Finn will be able to fix them all. Bat held onto this thought as the beaten and injured group made its way up the gangway and onto the boat.

  This was their first true test as a team, she realized. And they had failed—every single one of them.

  We are going to have to do so much better when we reach Tir Hudi.

  Chapter 11

  SCATH
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br />   He flinched as pain tore through his mind.

  You dare.

  Scath bowed his head.

  If she had been harmed before it is time…

  “Forgive me.” Scath’s lips tightened. Resentment filled him.

  A whip of pain coursed up his spine. I own you. Never forget this.

  “I have not forgotten. But, to have everything rely on one pitiful goddess…”

  Soothing pressure replaced the pain in a heavy caress. She is the one who can wield the harp.

  “Are you sure it has to be her?”

  Yes.

  Scath lifted his head. “She must be swayed.”

  One way or the other. If we cannot do it through words, we will do it through pain.

  “Can I be the one…?”

  I will tell you when it is time. For now, we must let them come to us. Do not interfere again.

  Scath smiled as he envisioned a certain full-figured goddess spread before him as his shadows held her in place. He would drain her power, slaughter those she loved before her eyes, and make her scream in pain. Then he would claim her.

  A broken and powerless goddess. A toy that would never die.

  “Oh how I hope you do not succumb to the pretty words…” he whispered into the dark.

  Chapter 12

  SHAR

  Shar lay face down on the foredeck of the Blue Heron. The early June sun warmed his bare back and the boat rolled gently under him. While he would always prefer the verdant forests and his little garden by the pub, a part of him had missed the way the ocean could hold and rock a man in her arms.

  The worst of the injured had stayed out here on the foredeck instead of moving into the salon or belowdecks. Easier to wash away the blood. If he concentrated hard enough, he could block the groans of the other injured immortals who lay around him being treated. He could even block out his own pain. And he could pretend he was out here for a leisurely day of play with his goddess, where the only thing they’d need to worry about was too much sun and the sea birds stealing their food…

  A cool cloth stroked down his back.

  “Mm-hmm.” The slight grumble slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

  “I am not hurting you am I?” Bat’s voice was tense and low.

  “No, a stor.” She wasn’t hurting him at all. The grumble had been an instinctive reaction to being pulled from his daze. For a minute he’d managed to forget the utterly fucked situation they were in.

  A week—maybe. That was how long it had been since his life had been turned upside down, beginning with the arrival of that damned invitation. Everything after that was a blur. Well, other than a few very memorable moments.

  Moments he hoped he had the chance to repeat soon.

  “Finn will be here soon,” Bat said as she continued to clean the skin around the slash across his back.

  He didn’t respond, didn’t feel he needed to. He’d received the wound while protecting her, and in truth it was negligible compared to other injuries he’d sustained during the countless battles of his past. The little pain he felt was well worth enduring in order to keep his Bat out of harm’s way.

  Shar was more worried for Dub, Neall, and the banshee who’d fallen into the water. Mell had a dislocated shoulder, and one of the men of ba had sustained a fairly serious gash on his thigh. Other than that, their group was surprisingly unharmed.

  Surprising because, though there had been a mere dozen attackers and their group had outnumbered them by more than twice their amount, some of the volunteer “militia” were so useless in battle they became more hindrance than help.

  Yes, he was being ungenerous. This was a group of immortals who had come together just that morning, and had never had a chance to fight together, let alone train together. The fact remained, though, that if things continued this way he, his brother, Bat, and Finn would be better off without the entire lot, including the men of ba and Cuchi.

  But that could be his frustration talking. Maybe I should do what Dub sometimes grumbles about, and make off with the goddess. Just leave it all.

  A pair of heavy boots came into sight, stopping a meter away. “Finn is with Dub,” Cuchi said.

  Think of the devil… Shar tensed, which caused his skin to pull across his back. There was a burning pain and Bat hissed. “Be still.”

  Shar deliberately relaxed into the polished wood under him. Bat’s hand, sans cloth, caressed his shoulder. He let his eyes fall closed, taking the moment for himself.

  “He—” Bat’s voice hitched.

  Shar shifted just enough to find her calf with his hand and give her a reassuring squeeze.

  “He’s doing just fine,” Cuchi said, a new note entering his voice.

  Oh fuck no. That is not happening. Shar knew that tone. He’d heard it enough over the years. It was the same one his Da used when he wanted to coax a woman to his side. It was also the same one Mell used to use.

  “Can you tell him I will come check on him once Shar and Mell have been seen to?”

  “Of course.” A rustle of cloth accompanied the words. “Is there anything else?”

  Bat paused, her hand still rubbing Shar’s shoulder. “Can you ask either Mell or Ailis to come over?”

  “Dechtire is still working on music-boy’s shoulder, but I’ll ask the insane one to come see ya.” Heavy steps moved away as Bat let out a snorting laugh.

  Shar frowned. “So, Cuchi is making ya laugh now?” He was still getting used to the idea of her with his brothers and Finn—who he actually liked. Her becoming friendly with the asshole who stole his eye…

  Jealousy burned in his gut.

  Her hand never stopped its gentle caresses. “Hush. I will admit that I have found a few—very few—admirable things in the asshole.”

  She echoed his mental moniker for the guardi and an unbidden smirk twisted Shar’s lips.

  “He is a wanker, a shameless womanizer, condescendingly entitled, and too stubborn about all the wrong things, but… he does not dance around topics, nor does he hesitate to say if he feels something is not as it should be. Which are qualities we need in our allies in this situation.” Cloth brushed across wood as she shifted, and her hair ticked his shoulders as soft lips pressed against the skin of his neck. “I do not like him, but he is not an evil man. I am also… at the last of my rope? I think it is this saying. And his assessment of Ailis was all too accurate. The laughter slipped out.”

  I am a jealous wanker. “Sorry, a stor.”

  “There is nothing to apologize for. You did warn me that there would be times during this relationship that you would be difficult.” Was that a teasing note in her voice? I wish I could see her expression right now.

  Shar opened his mouth to continue to apologize, because he was at fault here, when another pair of boots appeared before him. The man crouched down and ducked his head until Shar could meet the hazel gaze of the guardi captain that Bat had decided to make hers. There was a bottle of water in one of Finn’s hands and a spare t-shirt that smelled faintly of fish in the other.

  Finn set the t-shirt aside and unscrewed the cap on the water bottle. “Just a small sip at first, to get the healing going. You’re going to need to be able to sit up properly for me,” he said, pouring a bare mouthful of water into the palm of his hand. Finn brought his fingers to Shar’s lips and tilted his hand so the liquid trickled into Shar’s mouth. Warmth and power flowed through him from that small taste, then settled into the skin around his wound.

  It itched.

  Finn had to feed him two more trickling mouthfuls of water before the skin on Shar’s back had closed enough that sitting up wouldn’t re-open the wound. It took three more palmfuls of healing water before the injury was gone, leaving only a pale pink scar behind.

  Finn left them to check on the other injured. He wouldn’t use his healing power on everyone since it drained him, but he could at least make an assessment of their general state.

  Bat cleaned the last of the blood away fr
om Shar’s back, remaining silent the whole time. Then she handed him the shirt Finn had brought.

  “Are ya all right, a stor? Ye’re awful quiet.” It didn’t worry Shar, exactly. She was often silent. But this silence had a weight to it, one he couldn’t quite identify.

  Was she disappointed in them? In him?

  “Of course.” There was no hesitation in her voice, and a tightness in Shar’s belly eased.

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her in front of him, maneuvering her into his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his chin on her head. Just a few moments. I am going to steal just a few more moments before we need to return to planning and worrying.

  “You know I will always protect you,” he said as he rocked her softness against him.

  She didn’t answer right away and he tensed.

  “I know,” she finally said, laying a soothing hand over one of the arms around her. “But there will be times, my giant, when you will need to let me face my battles alone.”

  Her voice echoed with visions he couldn’t see. He’d come to know that particular note, and all he could do was hold her a little tighter.

  I will never let you face them alone. He made the promise to himself and to her.

  Chapter 13

  Dear Bastie,

  When is too much, too much?

  When is it better to speak than hold your silence?

  What is the line of betrayal?

  I bet you never expected to have such questions coming from me, huh?

  - Bat, the goddess who is realizing she has never lived in the real world

  BAT

  Her throat closed as Shar rocked her in his arms. She would need to move soon. She wanted to check on Dub and Mell, and on Teagan, Neall, and Adom.

  She also needed to find a quiet hour or two to sort her thoughts. So much had happened in just this one day that she had not had time to properly analyze the new visions, nor process both her fear for her not-men and her relief that they were alive and back with her. Not to mention that visit to the brothers’ father…