by Ann Gimpel
Aegir raised his voice, projecting it through the rows of Selkies ranged between them and the shoreline. “There’s little enough time now, and later there will be none at all. I have chosen a mate. Raene shall be my consort. We have sealed our commitment to one another.”
Cheers rose along with catcalls and many, “It’s about time,” comments.
“Our people will take this as a good omen,” Krise told her. “Superstition tells us an unmated liege tempts fate.”
“How so?” Raene asked.
Krise smiled grimly. “It leaves him open to enticement from a host of female demon seductresses from succubae on down the line.”
Aegir felt familiar magic and turned to see Gretta, his mum, striding purposely toward him. Joy at seeing her was tainted by concern. Her health hadn’t been good, and she should have been one of the Selkies to remain beneath the waves.
Should have been.
Steel gray hair fell to her knees. Her face had a few lines, but her eyes were the same clear cobalt blue they’d always been. He opened his arms, but she swept by him and gathered Raene into a heartfelt embrace. “I am Aegir’s mum. Ye’ve made me a verra happy woman today. I never thought my son would give up his footloose ways.”
Raene laughed softly and hugged Gretta in return. “Someday, I’d love to hear tales of his bawdy youth.”
Gretta took a step back. Water dripped down her naked body, mostly sheltered by her hair. “If the goddess blesses us, we shall have that someday to indulge in idle gossip. I’d like nothing better. A pleasure to meet you, daughter-in-law. My husband spoke well of you.”
Raene inclined her head. “A pleasure to meet you as well. Krise and I didn’t get off to a very good start. I’m relieved he’s not holding my quick temper against me.”
“He wouldna,” Gretta said. “He has quite the temper too, though his is cloaked in sarcasm.”
Aegir wandered through the assembled Selkies, greeting his pod by name and finding out who the newcomers were. Everyone’s mood was subdued; they all understood the gravity of what lay ahead. Some wouldn’t return from Arcadia, but they went willingly.
If good magic flickered and died, none of them would survive.
Krise and Gretta flanked Raene, talking with her. Aegir smiled inwardly, hoping they weren’t grilling her too much. Of course, they’d want to know all about her. Krise already knew Gregor had been her da. Aegir wondered who the Selkie half of her mum had been. He’d never asked her, and she might not know. Mating with humans was frowned on, so whichever parent had been a Selkie likely hadn’t stuck around.
He gathered his people in a rough circle. Over a hundred Selkies stood proud. It was cold, but no one complained. He motioned to his parents and Raene, and they slid into place next to him.
Aegir raised his hands. “I will make this brief, for if Arcadia has summoned you, she’ll expect your presence within her boundaries. I implore Poseidon and Amphitrite, king and queen of the seas, to bless our endeavor. To keep us safe and to strengthen our resolve in the face of the horror of demonkind.”
He took a breath. “Ye will see things, hear things that will change you in days to come, yet never lose your sense of who ye are, or your connection to the seas. The oceans are ageless, timeless. They are our link to the infinite. And yes, I ken they’re in trouble, but we can only address one problem at a time.
“Right now, that problem is Arcadia’s need of us. She’s never requested assistance before through her stewards, the Druids. We must not fail her.”
Aegir scanned the assemblage. Cries of, “We shall not fail,” were joined by closed fists punching the air.
“Goddess’s blessings on each of you.” He dropped his hands to his sides. There was no more to be said.
The Selkies filed past him one by one. He gripped each of their hands as they passed by him on their way to the island’s high spot and its gateway to Arcadia. At last, he stood alone on the beach with Krise, Gretta, and Raene. Night had fallen, a dark night where clouds occluded both moon and stars.
He turned to his mum but before he could say anything, she held up a hand. “Doona tell me I should return to the sea. Ye’re my liege and if ye order me to return, I’ll have no choice.” She pushed her shoulders back, rising to her full height, which still placed her a head shorter than him.
“She and I hashed this out,” Krise said.
“Aye, and I told him if we lose this battle, all is lost anyway. If I dinna fight by his side, if I hid myself away beneath the waves and he died, I would never forgive myself. Even if we win and magic doesna fade, I doona wish to face a world without my mate by my side.”
“Och, darling.” Krise wove an arm around her waist.
“It’s fine, Mum. I understand.”
Breath swooshed from Gretta. She’d come fully prepared to defy him—argue with him—and was relieved it hadn’t come to that.
“We should go,” Krise said.
“We’ll join you presently,” Aegir replied. “I suspect Arcadia can only absorb so many newcomers at a time. When she calls me, Raene and I will be there.”
“When do ye expect the dragons?” Krise asked. His tone was casual, but Aegir heard the worry beneath. He understood because he wasn’t totally comfortable with how he’d left things in Fire Mountain. Yet he’d had no choice. The dragons had promised their support and dismissed them. Remaining to hash out the fine points hadn’t been an option.
“I wish I knew.” Aegir exhaled sharply.
“If they promised,” Gretta said, “they’ll be there. A dragon’s promise binds them.”
Aegir arched a brow his mother’s way. “And ye know this how?”
She smiled, except it was far more than an upward curve of her lips. Gretta offered one of those timeless female expressions that conveyed knowledge edged with superiority.
“I wasna always mated to your da. I had a long life afore that time. I may have run into a dragon or two.”
Aegir waited, but it was clear his mum was done talking. He stepped close and hugged her. “Gentle seas, brisk wind, and plentiful fish.”
“Same to you, son.” Krise’s voice had a catch to it. He had to be worried about his mate. Centuries older than him, her warrior days were long since behind her. But she’d been clear. Aegir could order her back to the sea, but it would break her heart. And if Krise died, she’d never forgive Aegir for forcing them apart.
He gripped Raene’s hand and watched his parents walk away from them.
“You’re so fortunate,” Raene said, her voice low. “To have parents who love and value you. Who aren’t conflicted about who they are.”
“Did your mum know both her parents?”
“Only her mother, the human half of her genetics. The Selkie didn’t even stay long enough to see her born.”
“’Tis probable he’s still alive, your grandda.”
She shrugged. “If seeking him out is anything like my experience with Gregor, why would I bother?”
Aegir picked his words carefully. “’Tis highly doubtful he sold his soul to demons. Gregor is the only Selkie I’ve ever heard of who did that. ’Tis far more likely he was taken with your grandmum and lured her to his bed. One of the ironies is that Selkie matings with humans usually create offspring—”
Raene shot him a shocked look. “Does that mean I’m pregnant?”
“Matings with humans, lassie, and only if the human wishes for a child. If we got verra lucky, you might be pregnant, but two Selkies are not nearly as fertile as a Selkie and a human.”
She knitted her brows together. “So grandmum must have wanted a baby with her Selkie lover.”
Aegir nodded. “Aye. Selkie men can be verra captivating. What woman wouldn’t want a bairn from one of us?” He managed a deadpan delivery, and she punched him softly.
“You’re amusing. Probably also freezing. Come inside and get dressed.”
“Are ye tired of gazing on my nakedness already?” He waggled his hips at her.
&n
bsp; “I’ll never tire of looking at you, you captivating specimen, you.” Her deadpan wasn’t quite as good as his, and the last part of her words was lost in laughter.
Arms woven around each other, they covered the distance to the cave. It was warm from the hearth and their earlier lovemaking. He let go of her long enough to filch a bottle of mead from the spirit cabinet and crack the wax seal.
She picked up the glasses they’d used earlier and held them while he poured each of them a jot of the amber-colored liquor. “I’d like to propose a toast,” she said.
“Funny,” he replied. “’Twas exactly what I was about to suggest. Ye first.”
“To victory. And to us.”
“I’ll drink to both of those, lass. Slainte.” He clinked his glass against hers and drank deeply. His heart was so full, he was surprised it hadn’t cracked wide open.
She linked an arm through his and tugged in the general direction of the bed they’d so recently vacated. He wrapped an arm around her and kissed her, as aroused as if they hadn’t spent the entire previous night and all of today making love.
The kiss was developing a life of its own as their bodies strained against one another when he felt Arcadia’s summons deep in his stomach.
She pulled away from him, her eyes wide, worried. “I felt something. Kind of like a mule kicking me in the guts. It was Arcadia, right?”
He nodded. “Aye, lénnan. My léannan.” He let go of her and began pulling his clothing on. “We mustn’t tarry. Something about that call suggests trouble is already upon us.”
Raene zipped her jacket to her chin and pulled up the hood. “I’m ready.”
He wasn’t, but he wouldn’t tell her that the thought of maybe losing her cut his soul to bloody ribbons. He bent to lace his boots and turned to her. “Be careful, lassie. No heroics. Stay behind me, and—”
“I’ll do what I have to,” she cut in. “Let’s get this behind us so we can figure out the rest of our lives.”
He sensed her fear, but it wasn’t holding her back. He killed the flow of power warming the hearth and clasped her hand. Together, they hurried to the spot where the barrier between Earth and Arcadia was thinnest. He’d just begun his incantation when a portal formed. It wasn’t glowing as brightly as normal, which clinched his impression Arcadia was already under attack. Pushing his fears for Raene to a distant spot, he stepped past the boundary with his mate by his side. They’d do this together.
The goddess wouldn’t be so cruel as to rob him of his fated love, not when he’d only just found her.
The portal snapped shut behind them as if Arcadia lacked the ability to hold it open. Raene twisted to face him. “I love you. No matter what happens, I love you.”
He held her close for a long moment. “I love you too, lassie. And now, we must go.”
Still holding her hand, he searched for a pathway, knowing Arcadia would direct them to where they were needed most. It formed off to their right, pale and luminous. The moment they set foot on it, the stench of blood and guts filled his nostrils. The clank and clash of battle rose along with the reek of expended magic.
“No armor for us this time,” Raene observed.
“Arcadia is too weak to provide it,” he told her and led them forward. The attack had come before the Druids thought it would, but it made sense. Arcadia powered their seers’ visions with her enchantment. If the magical land had weakened sufficiently, everything dependent on its power would have deteriorated as well.
He summoned magic until it blazed around them. Raene wove hers in with his, adding to his ward. As ready as they were likely to be, they plunged through Arcadia’s forests. Worry streamed from the trees, and Aegir moved faster. The trees knew everything. Interconnected by root and shared consciousness, their knowledge bit deep.
“Will the trees help?” Raene panted the question.
“As much as they can, lass. ’Tis their world too.”
Chapter 16
Raene didn’t understand how she was rushing through thick timber along a wavery path. She should have been too scared to move, but somehow the fear had shuffled aside, taking up residence in a spot that didn’t immobilize her. So much was unfamiliar about fighting and battle strategy, she was intensely relieved she wouldn’t be wrestling her own anxiety along with the enemy.
I did all right when we battled the Fae, she reminded herself. Then, the trees had bailed them out, though. She had no idea how much of their power came from their roots buried deep in Arcadia’s soil. If they, too, drew their strength from the land, their ability to respond might be limited. She’d asked Aegir, but his answer had been equivocal, which meant he didn’t know, either.
The path twisted around a giant tree bole and spit them out in a clearing. At its far side, a gaping black hole pulsed. Suspended a meter or so in the air, it was edged with short, sharp protuberances that looked like fangs. Was the thing a giant mouth?
Aegir wasn’t hindered by her uncertainty. Lightning flashed from his raised hands, mowing through a line of three-foot tall misshapen creatures with red eyes scattered across knobby foreheads. They carted clubs, so maybe they depended on force rather than magic to fight.
She took stock of the clearing and decided there had to be many battles raging across the land. This couldn’t be the primary one since she didn’t see any of the Selkies from the beach. Men and women pulsing with Shifter magic battled an assortment of ghouls, hobgoblins, and other oddities. Many of the Hellspawn had greenish ichor pooling from their mouths.
Poison. What else could it be with that rotten stench?
Raene jumped out of the way of a swinging cudgel. One of the little bastards had snuck around behind her and Aegir. Meant they weren’t as dumb as they looked. She angled magic at its chest; it leered at her, unfazed by what should have killed it.
This one was taller with a hooked beak of a nose and patches of black hair strewn across a skull covered with suppurating sores. Something like a wave of darkness broke over it. When the coruscation cleared, it was a meter taller with skin splitting over places bone showed through.
Aegir was fully engaged killing a winged horde that had just emerged from the mouth-like thing at the other side of the clearing. She didn’t want to distract his attention, so she eyed her adversary, trying to figure out what would at least slow it down. It raised its upper lip, displaying rotting teeth in black jaws.
“Awk. You’re already dead.” She drew back a pace. No wonder she couldn’t kill the fucking thing.
One of the Shifters—maybe a bear from his broad-shouldered build—danced past and thrust a long blade her way. “Cut off its head. Only way. Then set fire to the remains.”
Raene did a doubletake. She recognized him from their last trip to the Druids’ castle. “Gerard?”
“Yup. It’s me. You remembered.”
Before she could ask more questions, like what incantation brought fire, he leapt sideways to avoid a ghoul dripping gray goop that reeked of death and rot. The thing half-landed on him, and another Shifter—this one female with tightly braided blonde hair—sliced a blade through the abomination.
It shrieked, high and thin and piercing, but it let go.
“Raene!”
Aegir’s cry brought her spinning about, blade at the ready. The growing monster was taller still and centimeters away. She barely had space to swing the blade. The first time she tried, it bounced off. She stepped back, gritted her teeth, and swung the unwieldy sword once more.
This time, she put all her weight into it. The weapon was heavy, and she’d never had any training in fighting with blades—long or short. The monster ducked beneath the swinging steel. With nothing to stop its trajectory, the sword spun her in a worthless circle until she was able to dig in her feet and stop herself.
Before she got her bearings, sharp claws grabbed both her arms. The creature wasn’t going to sit still and let her cleave it in two. No, it hefted her into the air until she was even with its hideous features. The smell
was so atrocious, she’d have clapped a hand over her mouth and nose, but both still clutched the sword.
“Raene. Drop the blade. Do it now,” Aegir yelled.
She let go and heard it clatter to the rocks and dirt. She saw a flash as Aegir raised it, but the creature that held her captive was so tall, he’d never be able to reach its neck. She writhed, trying to shake its hold on her, but she may as well have tried to move a boulder.
It was edging closer, laughing and spraying her with stinking spittle, as it prepared to take a bite out of her face or neck or whatever its not-so-feeble brain had hatched up.
Brain. Its brain had to be right behind its eyes.
Without stopping to think about touching the abomination, she lifted both hands and jabbed her extended index fingers right into his eyes. His howl of pain and outrage nearly deafened her, but he did let go.
She dropped to the ground like a stone, remembering at the last minute to curl into a ball to lessen the odds of breaking something. By the time she rolled to her feet, Aegir must have taken advantage of the monster bending over, probably to snatch her up again, and he’d beheaded it. Black blood geysered everywhere. A few jets spattered her before she scuttled out of the way.
The head was trying to roll back to the body, but Aegir gave it a stout kick. Magic bubbled from him, and the stinking, headless corpse first smoked, and then caught fire. The flames smelled almost as bad as the abomination had, but at least it was dead. Or dead again.
“What the hell was that?” she yelled.
“Hard to say. The undead take many forms beyond vampires.”
She ran to his side and held out a hand for the long blade. He shook his head. “’Tis too big a weapon for you. It nearly got you killed.”
She didn’t bother arguing. Nor did she waste time thinking about her near brush with death. No point. She was still here. It was the most important thing.
Gerald, the bear Shifter who’d given her the blade, ran to them. His brown hair was gathered into a queue. Soot and blood streaked his face, but his brown eyes shone with sharp intelligence. “That.” He pointed at the gash in the ether. “We have to shut it. Permanently. No matter how many Hellspawned atrocities we kill, more show up through that hole.”
