Wilde's Army

by Krystal Wade

  "An unforgettable experience in magic, adventure, and love. I was immediately captivated by the story and couldn't stop turning pages." - Vicki Keire, Best-Selling YA Author

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  Every book I write is for my family, but I have one family member in particular who goes above and beyond in the support department. Without this special person in my life, I’m not sure I would have found the strength to keep moving forward, to fight against people who tried to hold me back, and to finish Wilde’s Army.

  This book is for you, JoAnn Pepe.

  Chapter One

  Everything of importance in my new world has disappeared. The people I hold dear to my heart have been betrayed by two of our own who have been working for Darkness. The children, my sister, my mom, my friends, and my Arland—they were taken while I was asleep. But for whatever reason, someone protected me before I could be captured.

  A few weeks ago, I didn’t know Flanna, Lann, Tristan, or anyone else from Encardia aside from Arland—and him I knew only through dreams—but now that I do, I know I have to save them.

  Saving things seems to be what my life is all about, at least according to the sun god, Griandor. He may have told me who I am and what I’m capable of, but knowledge doesn’t do much to fill the hole in my chest.

  I have to fight a fallen god, kill his army of daemons, and hide my identity from the Ground Dwellers. The only people of this world who’d like to see me fail.

  And I’ve already failed everyone in so many ways, but I will find them, and I will do what I must to rid this world of Darkness.

  “Hello, Katriona,” a man calls, low and guttural, from behind me.

  My body ignites in flames, fueled by fear and old magic. I draw my sword and turn from the empty space where my bedroom used to be, bracing for my first fight—of many fights to come—and I see Perth.

  “Do you intend to kill me with that … wife?”

  He regards me with the same ice-cold gaze he did the first time I met him in the training room. The blue flames reflecting in his pale, green eyes don’t help much.

  “I will kill you, if you take another step forward,” I say with as much confidence as possible. I will not be forced into a marriage with Perth to repay the Ground Dwellers for building the bases. I will end this war between the gods, and I will free myself of this world’s desires for my future … somehow.

  “What if I take two?” he asks, moving forward three steps, leaving about enough distance for me to easily strike through him with my claymore.

  “Don’t. Test. Me!”

  Perth takes one more step. A wicked smile stretches across his ivory face, and I push the tip of my sword into a spot above his heart.

  “How foolish do you and Arland think I am?”

  Arland. Anger fills me at the mere mention of his name.

  “Why? Why did you betray all these people? Was it just to prove a point?” My voice comes out in a growl.

  “Me betray these people? I did no such thing,” Perth says, shaking his head.

  Inching forward, I push the sword harder against his chest. “If you didn’t betray everyone, why are you still here?”

  “If you would stop trying to kill your future husband, I would be happy to tell you,” he says, taking a step back when I pierce his skin with the tip of the claymore. Blood soaks through his white linen tunic and forms a red stain down to his belt.

  I’m not playing games. Stepping toward him, I dig the blade back into his chest over the bleeding wound. “Why shouldn’t I kill you? Right here, right now?”

  Perth puts up his hands in surrender. “Because we are not so different, you and I.”

  “Go on. I’m listening,” I say, without backing off.

  “I had trouble sleeping and was walking in the forest. That is why I was not taken with everyone else. The children were screaming. I ran here to see what was going on, but there were too many daemons for me to try to do anything. When I entered the base to check if anyone was left, I found you.”

  I point to the closest table with my sword. “Sit.”

  Perth takes a chair at the table in the center of the room.

  I seat myself opposite of him. “Why are we not so different?”

  I have not sheathed my sword. I don’t trust Perth as far as I can throw him … and since I’m short and don’t weigh more than one-hundred and twenty pounds, I’m guessing I can’t throw him very far.

  Our eyes lock.

  “We are both just pawns in a power play. I did not ask to be used against your family any more than you asked to be Bound to me,” he says without any edge of humor to his tone.

  I’m speechless. I think I might believe him. When people lie, they don’t do it looking you straight in the face.

  “How did you know who I am?”

  “I visited a Seer on my own, three years ago. She told me my hatred of the Light Lovers would come crashing down the day I met the Light. I laughed at her. The thought of not hating the Light Lovers was absurd.” The normal Perth has just returned. He leans back in his chair, fingers clasped behind his head, and a smart smile plays on his face.

  I glare. If he’s trying to help his case by telling me this … it’s not working.

  “Just hear me out, please.” He rights himself in the chair. The smile vanishes.

  I nod.

  “For all my mocking, the Seer did not stop giving me the prophecy. She said I would recognize the Light immediately because she would not look at me as a monster, at least not the first time we met. The Seer also told me the Light was not my rightful future, and if I tried to obtain that future, I would live a life without love. She said the Light belongs to Arland Maher and him to the Light.”

  Closing my eyes, I think of Arland’s smile, of his warmth. We were made for one another, to come together and fight a war, and yet we’re apart. Separated by God only knows how much distance. I have to get to him.

  “I love my father, Katriona,” Perth says, drawing my eyes open. “I would not want to do anything to displease him, but when I met you—a Light Lover—and you did not look at me as a monster, my heart felt something it never had before.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Hope. Hope that our two kinds could live in a world without turmoil.”

  “So, why did you try to kill me that day in the training room?” I hope his head still hurts where I hit him with my sword.

  He laughs. “I was not attempting to take your life. I was angry. The Seer was right, and I knew I was going to have to fight against my father.”

  I want to take Perth for his word, but if he desires our two kinds to be united, why has he kept this from Arland? “Why haven’t you said anything before now?”

  “Do you believe Arland—or anyone—would have trusted me? He has told you about my kind. How did his mood change when he spoke of me?”

  “Point taken.”

  The first time I asked about Perth, Arland ignored my question. He had to take me out to his favorite thinking spot by the river—as close to The Meadows as he could get … as close to his mother.

  Resting the sword on the table, I release my grip on the hilt. I don’t think Perth is making up this story. The sun god, Griandor, told me to trust in those around me, and since Perth is the only one left at base … I should start with him.

  “Why are you telling me?” I ask.

  “There are three reasons. You are the only other Draíochtan here, and you are going to need me if you want to survive. And Morgandy Domhnaill.” The corners of his mouth twist up into a wry smile.

  “Morgandy Domhnaill? My mom’s fake name?”

  “Ye
s. My Aunt Shylay used to tell me stories about Morgandy Domhnaill. She was a fabled, ancient goddess who lived by the sea. She treated the mortals with love and took care to ensure they always had food and a place to sleep. She was a goddess of kindness, and everyone trusted her.”

  “What does this have to do with my mom?”

  “I believed her stories to be just that, but my Aunt told me if I ever met someone who called herself by the goddess’ name, I should trust her and those she loves. When your mother spoke her name, I was taken aback. I never expected to hear the name ‘Morgandy Domhnaill’ again in all my life. I should have confessed then, but the way your mother regarded me—the way they all do—made me second guess what my Aunt instructed me to do.”

  Something tells me my mom knew Perth wasn’t all rotten. I bet she even had a reason to treat him the way she did that night. My mom knows so much. I need to get back to her. There are so many things we need to discuss. No matter what impact she thinks it may have on my future, I want to know … everything.

  “Why do our two kinds fight for power?” If I am supposed to unite everyone and form an army, I should be aware of exactly what divided us.

  Perth raises his eyebrow. “Arland has not informed you of this? What have you two been up to?”

  “You are not in a good position to ask questions you have no business knowing the answers to,” I say, putting my hand back on the sword.

  He watches my fingers thrum against the metal. “You enjoy killing things?”

  I stand. “Perth.”

  “Fine, fine.” He waves. “Long ago, we were all considered equals, but Foghlad, the Leader of my kind at the time, wanted more.”

  Sitting back down, I release my death grip on my sword.

  “Thank you.” Perth tips his head in the direction of my clasped hands. “He used our magic against the Light Lovers, twisting the thoughts in their heads, turning them into spies, killers, whatever he needed them to do at the time.”

  “But how? Flanna mentioned your powers are used for dark things, but Arland said our powers cannot be used to fight.”

  “I wish I knew. Our magical powers are not supposed to be used to fight, but somehow he manipulated the magic to work against nature.”

  “And your people just supported him?” I ask, leaning forward.

  Perth snorts. “Foghlad spoke eloquently to his followers, and over time—and I imagine with the help of magic—all of my kind believed in his mission to conquer the Meadows and take control of Encardia.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Why? What was he going to do with the control if he got it?”

  “He was an evil man. Plain and simple. I am not positive what his final plans were, but Foghlad taught all of my people how to use our beautiful magic in dark ways. The battles have gone on for so long, not many of my kind understand how peaceful life could be if we would stop trying to conquer the world.”

  I lean back in my seat; the twisted roots of the chair poke into my shoulders. “Have you ever told anyone this?”

  Perth shakes his head. “Unfortunately, if my father or anyone knew how I felt, I am sure they would kill me.”

  I feel as though uniting all of the Draíochta to fight might be more difficult than Griandor led me to believe—not that he gave me much information in the first place. “How long have the Ground Dwellers been fighting for power?”

  “The first battle began one hundred and twenty-three years ago.”

  One hundred and twenty-three years? Uniting them after that much time might not be difficult—it might be impossible. “So, what do we do now?”

  Perth smiles crookedly. “Since you are the one glowing with ancient magic, I was hoping you would come up with a plan.”

  He may find this funny, but I’m not smiling. I narrow my eyes.

  “Sorry. The blue flames are somewhat distracting.” He wipes his hand over his face, smoothing his expression.

  I draw in deep breaths. My mind reaches out to all corners of my body, grabbing the flames and folding them in. I’m taking control. Not asking, just doing—like Griandor told me. The magic works its way into my chest, and the fire disappears above my heart.

  The room is now pitch-black.

  “Solas.” I light a candle sitting in the center of the table with a spark from my hand.

  “If I had any remaining doubts about your identity, your control over old magic just made them all wash away,” Perth says, with child-like eyes.

  “Did you see where the others were taken?”

  “I followed them to a cave three miles north of here. I am not sure if they entered, but with only a knife for protection, it was too far for me to continue on alone.”

  “Are the animals—?”

  “Daemons have no use for our animals; they are fine.”

  “Good, then let’s ride out to the cave and check it out. If they aren’t there, we’ll come back. If they are, we’ll fight.”

  “You want to ride straight into a trap?” Perth crosses his arms over his chest, looking at me like I’m an idiot. “The daemons will expect retaliation. We need to track them, gather information, and attack when the time is right.”

  “Well, we can’t stay here. We have to get to them soon, or the daemons will kill them!” A lump forms in my throat. I have to save the others before it’s too late; if a single life is lost, it will be too much for me to handle.

  “You are correct. We cannot stay here.” Perth tips his head toward the hall. “It appears someone hid your room, which tells me someone believes whoever called for the attack knows who you are. The daemons know you are here; they will wait for you. They might be mounting another attack as we speak. We should move to Willow Falls. There will be other soldiers who can help us. We can use the chatter box in the communications room to send word we are coming.”

  It’s apparent Perth wants me to abandon the idea of finding the soldiers. He’s never seen me fight; he has no idea what I’m capable of. Until my conversation with the sun god, I had no idea what I’m capable of.

  “We don’t need to bring any other soldiers into this. I can handle the daemons that took the others. We’ll send word to Willow Falls about their capture, and we’ll let the Leaders know as soon as we rescue everyone, we’ll go there.” I had no trouble fighting off hundreds of coscarthas and hounds in the forest, and that was before I knew much about myself.

  “It will be a suicide mission.”

  It’s also apparent Perth has no faith in me.

  “Are you going to come with me, or am I going alone?”

  “What kind of man would I be if I allowed a woman to go into a battle on her own?” He places his cold hand over the back of mine. “Especially one who belongs to me.”

  I jerk my hand free. “Thank you, but I don’t belong to you.”

  “Try telling my father that.” Clasping his fingers on his side of the table, Perth laughs. “And do not thank me. We are both going to die. So, do you know how to use the chatter box?”

  “No.”

  “Neither do I. You should try to use the magic you have been blessed with,” Perth says, heavy on the sarcasm.

  Grabbing my sword, I point it toward the kitchen. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Two

  Walking through the dark, empty base is unnerving. Even when I’ve been alone here, the place never had the lifeless feeling it holds now. With each heavy step, the sounds of the soles of my leather boots connecting with the dry earth pound in my ears. Every shaky breath I release hints at my unease. I have to be strong for those I love; otherwise, I’m not sure I could handle putting another foot forward.

  Signs of a struggle are all throughout the dining room and kitchen. Tables are knocked over, chairs lie on their sides, and dishes are broken and scattered all around the floor. Light from the candle I carry illuminates trails of blood. My heart skids to a stop and so do my feet.

  I gasp.

  “What is it?” Perth asks.

  “B-blood.” I point to the line o
f blood on the floor, trembling as I walk along the stains with Perth behind me. The trail leads up the stairs.

  “Someone was injured,” he says, his voice void of emotion.

  Swallowing hard, I raise the candle to see his face. “I understand that, but who?” The question leaves me breathless. Intuition numbs my limbs, telling me the stain is from Arland.

  Perth steps over the line of crimson then takes hold of my elbow. “It does not matter. We must keep moving.”

  It may not matter to Perth, but it does to me. This war has already consumed two people I love: my father and my best friend Brad. At least he’s been promised a second chance at life, if I succeed, but no one else shares that same opportunity. With suppressed apprehension, I keep moving.

  We enter the communications room. The table is broken in half and the chatter box lies on the floor, buzzing with static. I pass the candle to Perth then rush to the corner, pick up the strange device, and tap it. I don’t know why; a natural reaction maybe—like when a security camera flickers out and a guard taps the monitor.

  The rectangular box is about a foot long. It’s made of wood and has little holes cut out in a circular pattern. The box still reminds me of an old radio, but there are no wires attached, and I don’t see a speaker inside.

  “If we talk to each other telepathically, what’s the point of this thing?” I look back to Perth.

  He eyes the contraption in my hands. “From what I understand, the chatter box creates order to how messages are sent and received, but I do not know how to use it any more than you do.”

  When Arland took me on tour of the base, he told me connecting mentally through the chatter box requires a lot of concentration. Instead of questioning what the purpose of the thing is, I might as well get started. I sit on the floor, cross my legs over each other, then place the thing in front of me.

  Perth walks up beside me. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like? I’m concentrating.”

  I have no idea what I’m doing, but Perth doesn’t need to know this. Closing my eyes, I think about the little wooden rectangle by my legs and about where I need a message to go. Weeping willow trees pop into my mind, as well as waterfalls. No one has ever described Willow Falls to me, but when I hear the name, those are the two things I relate the place to.