Finn Arne, Captain of the Vatican’s Swiss Guard, ordered his men to press forward.
The warriors did. The bodach raged. With no thought to his own safety and the power radiating through him, Bran sent the magic of Arondight into the side of the bodach. The fire tore into the Unseelie beast, casting it off of the knight as though struck by a gigantic fist.
The shadow careened across the clearing, singed and smoking.
“Arne!” Richard roared. “Don’t let it flee!”
The noose of Swiss Guard tightened about the bodach. Sensing it was outmatched, the creature tore across the clearing to escape into the night.
Richard was too quick. He sent the power of the Dark Thorn into it. The bodach fell to the earth again, smoking, flames licking its insubstantial body. It regained its feet, eyes glowing hotter. With Deirdre behind them, Bran and Richard faced the circling fey assassin together, the guards from the Vatican preventing escape.
White fire ran down the Dark Thorn, and Bran held Arondight before him, ready.
The bodach tore at the sod, bounding toward them.
“Go after it with everything you have, Bran!” Richard yelled. “Into its deepest part!”
Bran gritted his teeth, bracing his feet. The attack didn’t come. Richard flung fire to one side of the bodach, forcing the beast away from Bran and instead toward him. It strayed from the blast and slammed into the knight. The bodach ravaged the magical shield Richard had readied—but suddenly the knight let the shield vanish. The bodach tumbled forward. As Richard let the Unseelie beast fall, he lashed out with a quick low swing, using the Dark Thorn like a sword. The fire severed the forelegs of the bodach, the limbs evaporating into the ether. The bodach dropped to the earth, screaming, scrambling in panic, using its remaining four legs to retreat in hopes of escape and regenerating its body.
“Now, Ardall!” Richard roared, diving aside.
Bran was on the bodach immediately. With all of his might and ignoring his own safety, he drove Arondight into the very center of the beast, letting the magic flow as it hadn’t yet.
The blade penetrated deep, burning so blue it became white hot. The bodach let loose a deafening screech, one of anguish and loathing. It fought the sword, biting at the steel as it squirmed to be free. Bran sent all his will through Arondight and into the creature, trying to incinerate it from within, wishing the evil assassin forever gone from world. The injustice of the things he had seen helped him wield the justice to do what was right. Images of Connal dying, the tears of Kegan, Hollick disappearing within Caer Glain, and Deirdre being tossed onto their campfire like a doll seared Bran like a cauterizing iron, bolstered his resolve, and lent him power he had never known.
Light shattered the night, intensifying, as blinding as the sun.
The bodach howled, pinned, screaming and thrashing from the onslaught. The shadow dissolved in the brightness, losing what corporeal form it had. Bran did not let up. He twisted Arondight deeper, its fire penetrating farther into the center of the creature, even as euphoria he had never before experienced but frightening in its delicious taste gripped him. Bran reveled in it—fierce glee at seeing the beast destroyed reinforcing his conviction.
Like a conduit, he sent his heart into Arondight.
The bodach shuddered, unable to flee, and in a final scream of unrequited rage disintegrated to ash.
“I will not continue to discuss this with you, Finn Arne,” Richard said angrily.
Deirdre listened to the knight argue with the other outworlders, but the pain racking her body sent darkness before her eyes as Bran cleaned her burnt back. Deirdre remained focused though. Finn Arne, the captain of the warriors, stared hard at Richard, his arms crossed, his one good eye appraising the knight. With the bodach dead, the soldiers now surrounded them, each one a bar in a new prison. The redhead should have been pleased by the death of the bodach. She knew they were lucky to be alive, and she had Finn Arne to thank for it.
But events had taken a turn for the worse, it appeared.
Snedeker sat in Deirdre’s hand, lending what sympathy he could, all the while giving the outworlders his darkest look. She didn’t know who they were but she knew for certain she didn’t like what they proposed.
“My orders are clear, McAllister.”
“Damn your orders then,” Richard said. “There is a great deal more going on here than you or your so-called superiors know. War has come. Not maybe. Not possibility. It is here now. I go to end it before it escalates into our world.”
“By traveling to Caer Llion, I know, I know,” Finn Arne said. “I still have orders.”
“Who sent you? The Cardinal Vicar?”
“It does not matter.”
“It does matter. Cormac O’Connor is only interested in attaining the services of the Heliwr, nothing more, nothing less,” Richard said. “He wanted the boy because Bran Ardall is the son of the last Heliwr, Charles Ardall. In the time since you tried to kill us, I—”
“I didn’t try to kill you.”
“I don’t care!” Richard said, cutting Arne off. “The point is…I am the Heliwr.”
Finn Arne frowned. “You are?”
Richard called the Dark Thorn. White light fell on Deirdre and the clearing. The soldiers raised their weapons but the knight ignored them. The staff shimmered darkly in the early dawn, the silver grains of the black wood catching the light and releasing it.
“You must have seen me wield it during the battle,” Richard said. “It wasn’t a trick. I will make a bargain with you, one we both will benefit from.”
“I am listening.”
“If you let us go, we will willingly return with you to Rome. Once we return from Caer Llion and destroy Philip and his ability to see into our world.”
“How do I know you don’t go to join him?”
Richard barked a laugh. “I go to kill him.”
“Who is the redhead?”
All eyes fell on Deirdre. She did not flinch. She had been surrounded by warriors all of her life, knew them as she knew herself, and despite their weaponry, those gathered were no different than any she had known.
“She is Deirdre Rhys, a lady of Annwn,” Richard replied. “She is our guide.”
“Is this true?” Finn Arne asked her.
“It is,” she said. “I go with the knights to watch over their mounts while they are within Caer Llion. If they went to join the enemy, they would have had no need for me. Nor would I be wasting my time.”
“What of my men?” Finn Arne asked finally. “I cannot bring my men into harm’s way. We are not to become involved in any direct confrontation here in Annwn.”
“I will tell you something, Shield of the Vatican, and you listen good,” Richard stated, his anger plain. “For you to not become involved is the real travesty. The Seelie Court gathers to the east, where the Forest of Dean covers the approach to Caer Llion. They do so to counter an army bred to destroy this world and our own, one filled with aberrations of nature more deadly than the Kreche you met in Seattle. It is you who should join that war, bring your firepower and training, to protect the last defense to our world.”
“It is not our place to become involved in the politics of Annwn,” Finn Arne said, although without the surety he previously possessed. “And what if my men and I don’t let you leave? We outnumber you.”
Richard let white flames run up and down the Dark Thorn.
“I will kill every one of your men,” the knight whispered, Deirdre barely able to hear. “You know how I feel toward your masters, toward your doctrine. I may not be able to kill you due to Prydwen, but your men are not so protected, are they? I will burn them away, your weapons and clothing away, and leave you naked as a jaybird. Then how easy will it be to bring young Ardall and myself to Rome, eh?”
Finn Arne and the knight stared one another down, neither giving way. Whether the knight would fulfill his promise and kill the warriors who surrounded them, Deirdre couldn’t tell. Richard clearly did not fe
ar the captain. With Bran behind her and ready to protect Richard, they had far more power than their aggressors.
“You go to the east after you finish with Philip?” Finn Arne asked after much time had passed.
“Coming through the Rome portal and traveling across the south of Annwn, you must have witnessed the army amassing at Caer Llion.”
“I did.”
“Then you know what I speak to be true.”
“What does your wizard say about this?”
“I care not what he says, although we have not spoken since our battle in Seattle,” Richard replied. “Knowing him though, Merle probably has wheels within wheels turning right now that are changing how all of this is going to end up. The one thing I’ve learned is to not trust him and how he uses people around for his own benefit.”
“I don’t trust you any more than I trust your wizard,” the captain said. “I am not here to start or take part in a war. We are not equipped. I will wait for you to return, hold you to your oath, and take you back. If you do not keep your oath, I will rip Seattle apart to find you.”
Richard nodded.
At that, Finn Arne gave several orders to his men. They disappeared through the plains in the east as the sun just broke the horizon.
In minutes, they were gone.
Richard sighed and turned back to Deirdre and Bran.
“Bran, would you start packing the camp,” he requested. “We must leave here in all haste and gain Caer Llion by nightfall.”
Bran handed the damp cloth he had been using on Deirdre to Richard, giving the knight a dark look. Deirdre ignored the obvious animosity between them. Bran left to roll their beds and pack their things.
Richard sat down next to Deirdre and continued what Bran had begun.
“You risk infection,” Richard said flatly.
Deirdre grimaced as the knight cleaned her charred flesh. Her back and left arm were badly burned; the coals of the campfire had turned her skin to crimson and blackened wax. It could have been worse; the leather vest she wore had absorbed much of the fire.
It was clear, though, she needed weeks to recover from the injuries done her.
“You should go back,” Richard continued, dabbing brusquely.
“No,” Deirdre rasped. “No. I will see this through.”
“You are incredibly stubborn.”
Deirdre smiled through the pain. “I knew there was something you liked about me.”
Richard kept scowling, removing as much grit from her back as he could. She let him, happy for his attention. The heat of Richard sitting so close warmed Deirdre. She kept the growing feelings she had for the knight inside. It was difficult to do. From the moment she had sat at his bedside in the Cadarn, she knew he was the outworlder in her mother’s vision. It made no rational sense but there it was. He was strong, tempered by life, and intriguing. He was an unknown. While his past haunted him, he still possessed honor to see this business to its end. She had been with men, even thought she had been in love before, but nothing compared to this.
She thought back on the vision. It cooled her thoughts. The shade of her mother had said her future was intertwined with Philip Plantagenet. Knowing visions were riddles unexplained, she worried what the reality would be.
Especially given she traveled toward Philip willingly.
Lord Gerallt had been more supportive than her mother. Upon returning to Arendig Fawr, her father had seen the look in her eyes and knew she would never marry Plantagenet. He made the decision then to fight. Deirdre would aid the Morrigan while he returned to Mochdrev Reach to bolster what guard they had in the fight against Caer Llion.
He had no idea she had chosen to lead Richard and Bran.
“Damn creature,” Richard growled as he cleaned her arm. “Should have been more ready for this. I just didn’t imagine the beast could cross the distance from Caer Glain so quickly.”
“You could not have known, Rick,” Deirdre said softly, gritting her teeth. “A bodach is a formidable creature. Besides, I know this area and even I was misled. It is not your fault. That belongs to someone else.”
“Plantagenet,” he said. “At least it is gone.”
“Who were those men?”
“Trouble from our world. They are gone now though.”
“You have a knack for protecting us.”
“Juding by your back, not enough, apparently,” he said.
“I appreciate it,” Deirdre whispered. “And you.”
Richard did not respond, still focused intently on her arm. The two were mere inches apart. Deirdre had never wanted to reach out to someone more. The tickle of his shaggy hair on her bare shoulder. The musky odor of travel emanating from him. The act of his caring enough to see her wounds cleaned, to touch her. It all made him more desirable.
Before she knew it, Deirdre was leaning forward, seeking out his lips.
Richard gripped her stronger as she fell into him. Her lips brushed his briefly before he jerked back suddenly, obviously figuring out she did not faint from the pain but instead had other ideas. She looked deep into his eyes. He stared back. She saw the past and present of the knight mingle there and the former win.
“We must be going,” Richard said, standing.
“It will take us most of the day to cross the plains,” Deirdre said, cursing inwardly at her weakness and readjusting the remnants of her clothing. “We will be exposed unless we revisit the outer folds of Dryvyd Wood and take the long way.”
“Circling the plains will take us an additional day we cannot afford,” Richard said, looking away from her. “Best we get a move on.”
After Bran finished packing their bedrolls, Richard mounted Lyrian. Bran and Deirdre mounted their steeds as well, and together they rode through the bars of trees and into the plains beyond. The day had dawned as those before it, blue sky littered with tiny white clouds, the world heating as the sun climbed. Rolling grasses as tall as Willowyn’s legs swished around them, bleached golden by the hot summer. Tiny birds erupted from their business as the Rhedewyr startled them into the skies. On their distant left, the outline of short mountains sat on the horizon like bruised lumps; on their right, the green stain of the Dryvyd Wood grew, an invitation back to the place Deirdre had met Richard.
The day progressed and with it more pain. Even the memory of the brief kiss could not dampen Deirdre’s burns. With the last few trees long behind them though, a growing uneasiness also built up in her. She felt exposed, as if she were being watched. It was the first time she had been out in the open since actively choosing to defy Caer Llion and an uneasiness grew. Occasionally the group passed ruins of weathered stone foundations, Annwn slowly reclaiming the castles and keeps men or fey had built, but furtive movement caught her eye and disappeared just as quickly. Richard led, never looking back at her. Arrow Jack cruised high above them, ever vigilant, and Snedeker rode on her shoulder, still unsure of his new role as guide to the Heliwr.
Halfway through the day, after crossing the thin ribbon of the Tywi River, a dark stain filled the horizon, coming toward them from the south with an unsettling rapidity.
“What is that?” Bran asked.
“Deirdre?”
“I do not know,” she said. “Nothing Unseelie though, not in the daylight.”
As the mass grew near, swarming individuals became evident, some a hundred feet in the air, others hovering at the height of the grass.
“Fairies,” Richard said darkly.
“That is quite odd,” Snedeker noted.
“What do you mean?”
“What he means is what comes our way is a whole clan of fairies,” Deirdre said. “Something encroached upon their home to make them leave.”
“And they are obviously not afraid of us,” Richard observed.
The fairies drew closer and deviated from their path, slowing as they flew nearer to halt altogether before Richard and his companions—some settling to the grassy plains below, others continuing to hover high in the air as if
on watch. Other than being of a similar size, they were not at all like Snedeker. Instead of twigs and leaves, the tiny newcomers appeared to be made from bits of the prairie, with bodies of straw, arms and legs of greener needle grass and plains flowers. Wings of incandescent gold held each fairy aloft.
One broke from the rest and flew straight for Richard.
“I am Richard McAllister,” the knight said, as the fairy stopped in the air.
“Grallic of the Grastolls.”
“Where do you go in such numbers, Grallic?”
“North, into territory less hostile,” the fairy answered in a dry voice. He had a short beard of grayish moss, and the wheat comprising his body was crinkled with age. “Where ‘tis safe.”
“Dark creatures roam the world,” Richard agreed.
“One was out here in the plains,” the fairy sniffed. “Scouts crossed it in the foothills as they sought a new home for my clan. ‘Tis now gone though.”
“Not gone. Slain!” Snedeker interrupted. “Killed by these knights here.”
“Knights?” Grallic asked, surprised. “I see no armor, no weapons of any kind except what the redheaded lady there carries.”
“A knight of a different sort,” Richard answered.
“That is well,” the fairy said. “Ye have an Oakwell with ye.”
“Snedeker is one of our guides.”
“Driven from his clan, more like,” Grallic snorted. “A fairy without a clan is a fairy who has betrayed his clan.”
“The fairy is of no consequence,” Richard asserted, cutting off what Snedeker was already beginning to say. “From where do you hail?”
“The area north of Caer Llion,” Grallic grumbled. “The plains are full of men, men with their iron and anger. They camped on our lands, unsettled our home, and we had no choice but to leave. Hidden we have remained for centuries but no longer. Now we flee for our lives.”
“How many men did you see?” Bran asked.
The Dark Thorn Page 33
