Rise of the Seven

by Melissa Wright

  I was abruptly standing again. Chevelle saw my fury, but he didn’t attempt to calm it. This would have to be answered for, if not now, then soon. The realization eased my temper enough that I could at least consider our options.

  I began pacing. Asher had never allowed me to pace. It was a weakness, he’d said. But he was dead.

  “I should see the family,” I said, a plan forming. It wasn’t a solid plan. It was based purely on faith, but it was a plan. And it was the only one I had.

  Chevelle nodded. “As will I. Burne has a grown son. His wife is Camren. She’s known for her talent with wind.”

  I came to a standstill, straightening my scabbard before gripping the hilt of my sword. “Yes, we will see her first.” My eyes met Chevelle’s but before I could decide whether to tell him, there was a crash from the front room.

  I bit down a growl, muttering, “I hate fairies,” for what was almost certainly not the last time as I opened the door to the living area.

  The pale blue fairy was perched on the arm of the sofa by the tips of her toes. Her hands were behind her back and she wore an all-too-innocent smile as she greeted me in singsong. “Frey-a.”

  I grimaced at her as I asked Rider, “What did she break?”

  He nodded toward the corner, where a gooey mess oozed from broken chunks of what I assumed was once a clay pot. “Not sure exactly, but it smells like the back end of a goat.”

  Myst grinned wider, as if her perfect teeth could charm me into friendship.

  “Clean it up and I will let you live.”

  She started to laugh but caught herself, suddenly unsure if I’d been joking. Her wings flicked, shaking silvery dust onto the couch, and then she moved to pick up the mess.

  I headed to Ruby’s room to locate a scroll and then stood frozen in the doorway. The entire room was covered in a thick white powder. “What happened?” I managed, choking on fumes even though the dust had long since settled.

  “Oh,” Rider said, “that was Ruby.”

  I turned to stare at him.

  “One of the traps she’d laid before leaving.”

  I pointed a thumb over my shoulder, face blank as his words sunk in.

  “Yep, that’s the one that got Steed.”

  The laugh that escaped morphed into a cough from the vapor and I closed the door without having stepped a foot inside. My eyes were tearing up. No wonder he’d been so angry. “Any chance either of you have a scroll and a quill?”

  “Here,” Myst called from the corner, “there are some in this side table.”

  I glanced at Chevelle, who had the same irritated expression I imagined I was wearing, and headed toward the table.

  Myst stood. “And a jar of ink there.” She pointed toward a row of shelves built into the south wall, where it appeared she had been meddling when she’d knocked down the clay pot. “It’s the blue one.” Nose scrunched, she bent back to her task.

  When I pulled a scroll from the drawer, she glanced up at me, eyebrows dancing up and down. “Whatcha writing?”

  I narrowed my eyes on her and she smiled sweetly before wiping the remaining goo from the floor.

  Sitting in the chair opposite the couch, I slid a small table to me and laid out the scroll. Myst sat the jar of ink beside it without a word and sat across from me, curling her feet under and resting her elbows on a couch pillow in her lap while she watched. It wouldn’t matter, she’d read it as soon as she was out of my sight, but I took the time to glare at her anyway, blowing the bangs out of my eyes as I looked up from the table at her. She didn’t seem to mind, bringing her tiny fists up to rest her chin as she waited. Her soft blue-gray locks fell forward in loose waves and the color reminded me of the sky just before rain. It seemed apt, considering the storm I was about to unleash.

  I had the first line down when Ruby came in. Her face was smudged with dust and blood, and fuzzy tendrils of red curled around it where they’d escaped her braid. She stared blankly at the pert blue fairy roosting on her couch, and then at me.

  “Is everything well, Ruby?” I asked.

  “I’ve done all I can.” She sighed. “I’m going to clean up.”

  I nodded, hoping she remembered the explosion of powder waiting in her room.

  I was on the last line when Grey came in. I glanced up just in time to see his eyes meet Myst’s. She let out a cat-like “reouw” sound and sat straight up to get a better look at him. Grey, along with the rest of us, simply stared in open shock at her display.

  When Ruby appeared from nowhere and leapt at her, Myst only had time to half turn toward her as she collided into the fairy and both rolled across the floor beside me. I heard an oath, recognized it as Grey, and realized he’d joined the fracas, struggling unsuccessfully to pull Ruby from her victim. Another curse flew out as Myst scratched his cheek in an attempt to gouge his eye, and I slowly became aware that I and the remaining members of the guard were simply watching as this bizarre scuffle ensued. Before I was able to react though, Ruby drove her forehead into Myst’s petite nose and flipped her face-first onto the ground. My mouth popped open as Ruby pinned her, pulled Myst’s wrists together behind her back, and leaned forward to whisper into a long, pointed ear.

  Whatever she said made Grey flush as red as one of Ruby’s silk scarves and I flashed a look to Chevelle to see if he’d heard. His eyes were on Grey, jaw tight with restraint as he held back laughter.

  “Ruby,” I said, staring down at her, “I need this one.”

  She nodded, pushing roughly off Myst’s back to stand.

  I leaned over the scroll to sign my name, not as Veil and the fey called me, but as Elfreda, Lord of the North. Myst sat up, wiping the blood that ran from her busted nose, and handed me a ribbon and seal.

  I rolled the parchment slowly, considering my words. Part bluff, part bravado, part deceit. I could only hope it worked. Veil was no fool, but I had to believe he didn’t want war. There was no other reason to warn me. Well, there was one other reason, but I refused to think of that now that I knew I was tied to Chevelle. It would have to work. I wrapped the ribbon once around the document, attached the seal, and pressed the clasp of my cloak into the clay putty, the molded form of a hawk imprinted as my seal.

  Myst leaned forward, blew gently onto the putty, and smiled as it hardened to ceramic. She rolled to her knees, eagerly awaiting her instructions.

  “Deliver this to Veil.”

  She nodded. “And you’ll get me out of here alive?”

  I knew what she meant. Could I get her safely out of Camber? Would these men heed my orders? I didn’t have the slightest idea, but at least she had enough respect not to say it.

  I rubbed my face. “You’ll leave with us. It’s the best I can do.”

  She pursed her lips, another unspoken question. Where were we going?

  “We will keep the balance, that is all that matters. Tell him we planned to return to the castle.”

  For the first time, a truly sincere smile crossed her lips. That was when I knew we were in more trouble than we could handle.

  I stood to address the guard. “We leave at daybreak. Please let Steed and Anvil know. We won’t have much time to wrap things up.” I indicated Chevelle. “We are going to pay our respects to Camren. When we return,” I glanced at Myst, “we will discuss strategy.”

  As we made our way to the door, I realized I hadn’t known Burne. I wondered briefly where we’d find his wife, what condition she’d be in. But as soon as Chevelle drew the door open, it became quite apparent where she was, if not her condition.

  Marching toward Ruby’s small home was a band of angry townspeople. They were dressed in battle gear, armor and swords, knives and shields. Their faces were smeared with the blood of the fey, their hands clenched upon hammers and axes. And leading the pack was a stout woman in her fourth century, dark eyes rimmed in red, mouth taut with determination and pain.

  “Camren?” I whispered.

  “Yes,” Chevelle answered behind me.


  I took a deep breath, watching as the woman’s raven hair whipped in a current that seemed to coil solely around her.

  The group came to a staggered stop as they reached the street in front of the house. There were about thirty, a few kneeling to show respect, a few rocking impatiently from foot to foot, but most standing in wait as Camren approached further. I stepped onto the porch and Chevelle followed, coming to stand beside me. Rhys and Grey came to my right, and I heard the door shut behind them, quietly locking the fairy away from view.

  “You go to take your vengeance?” Camren asked in a raw voice.

  Her question left no room for the indecision I was feeling. “The fey attacked this town because of our plan to confront council.”

  Camren’s jaw went tight. “Do you go to take your vengeance?”

  “Retaliation could mean war,” I said.

  Three of the large elves behind her spat at my answer, several others muttered. They had no fear of the fey, and council had taken one more of their own today. One too many, it appeared.

  I sighed. “Many of you will die.”

  No one in the line so much as flinched at my words. From the corner of my eye, I saw Steed and Anvil approaching to join us. Not an hour ago, I’d been questioning my actions, convinced I’d made a poor choice, that I would have started a war not only the north, but the whole of elvinkind would lose. Now, I could see no other way.

  I glanced at Chevelle, and knew he felt the same. It was right. We would have to do it, regardless of the cost.

  When I gave the order, I stared solely into Camren’s eyes. A promise. “Then we go. Recompense for the fallen.” I looked past her then, into the eyes of the men and women behind her. “Not just for today, but for all days. These men will answer for their actions.”

  A clatter of sword against shield met my words, the applause of battle, and I looked to my guard. We were ready.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Reckoning

  The fey attack and the trackers had thrown our plans into chaos. But the gathering outside Ruby’s door added urgency. We would have no time to revise our strategy or we would risk giving council notice, not to mention a return of the fey. So I had decided to tell the mob of townspeople of my messenger, and trust them to allow her departure.

  But when I opened the door to the living area and her gaze skipped over the crowd to land directly on the horses with a giddy, “Oooh, do I get one?” I actually considered letting them rip her apart. Unfortunately, I couldn’t chance sending anyone else into fey territory under the current conditions.

  “Go now or not at all, fairy,” I hissed below earshot, and then bit my cheek as she curtseyed for the spectators.

  Myst beamed at me before suddenly dipping and shoving off the porch to disappear about as quickly as I’ve ever seen a fey disappear. Excepting Veil, I amended.

  I straightened my shoulders and took one more look around before calling the order to mount up. We had split the group into five. I would ride with the guard as we had intended, as if we were alone. Two sets of Camber’s best horsemen would ride slightly eastern and western routes, and the last two, the strongest and fastest, would come in on foot. It wasn’t the most honest formation, but they’d played dirty first, and I didn’t aim to lose any more men than necessary.

  We rode swiftly and silently. I spent most of the ride falling into the minds of various birds in an effort to keep us safe. There had been a fair share of attempts on me, the guard, and the north of late so I couldn’t be sure of what exactly I was looking for, but nothing seemed amiss. It was maybe too calm. It reminded me of the ice attack. Nothing to be seen, nothing out of place.

  The train of thought distracted me as I scanned the grounds below. I didn’t need to be distracted, so I forced myself to stop worrying about Veil. Stop worrying about how I could control these powers. I needed to focus on our current task. To overcome this one obstacle first.

  Back to myself, I glanced left and right to find Steed and Chevelle. Chevelle’s eyes were scanning the trees, Steed’s moving from the landscape, over the horses, and back again with proficiency. Rhys and Rider rode ahead, Ruby, Grey, and Anvil behind. I checked on the horses, wondering how much farther they could run, but it seemed we might not have to continue on foot. Chevelle had been right, they were fine stock.

  We didn’t slow through the darkness of night. The cool air seemed to recharge the horses, and their excitement recalled old memories to me.

  I could hear the purr of breath, see the black coat glisten over straining muscle through the blur of ash and tears. The stench of burning flesh still remained in my nose and throat, the screams of so many still echoed through my mind. My ears roared with some unknown resonance. All I could do was hold on to Chevelle’s back, though I wanted nothing more than to tear everything apart. My mother’s words sang softly to me, a warning, just before I was attacked. A deep green vine rose to strike, curling like a viper, and shot out, thorns piercing my arms like fangs as its rapidly growing body wrapped around my wrist in a choking hold.

  “Frey.”

  I jerked awake, so suddenly pulled from the dream that I struggled against Chevelle’s grip on my arm.

  “Freya,” he repeated.

  I sputtered, yanked my arm once more, and then finally breathed. He watched me, only releasing his hold when it was clear I had my bearings.

  “Thank you,” I whispered in a hoarse voice, at last realizing I’d fallen asleep as we rode.

  His head tilted forward, and I followed it to find the familiar rocks marking the way to the temple. It was time.

  We dismounted and as Steed turned the horses to graze, I took one last trip to the sky to be certain everyone was in place.

  I opened my eyes to find seven soldiers watching me. I gave them one nod that I hoped conveyed everything and took my first step toward River Temple.

  Two hundred steps later, the trees took on a new appearance. Great oaks and maples grew vigorously, limbs overlapping as their massive trunks stood too close together. The excess of leaves created a low canopy of dappled green, out of season with the cool air. We continued through the maze wordlessly, treading lightly and on watch. We had no guarantee they weren’t lying in wait.

  When the forest border began to clear, my guard took up lines. Rhys and Rider led as Chevelle and Anvil flanked me. Ruby, Steed, and Grey walked behind, rotating to watch our backs and the sky. After their attack on the castle, we were sure they would try again. But they weren’t waiting for us in the surrounding forest. They were waiting for us in the temple.

  Seventy white robes lined the temple floor. Twenty more were staggered between the columns. More than thirty stood along the balcony railing. Bright eyes and golden hair were all that set them apart at that instant. Gone was their jovial mood, no one smiled now. My eyes scanned the room, searching. The floor was nothing but fodder. Single tassels adorned most robes, none there wore more than three. These were fresh recruits, brought in to wear us down. A few among the columns might be able to contest the townspeople, but held no threat to my guard.

  The balcony. That was where our target waited. They watched us, no hint of wariness, only pure hatred. They thought us evil. They thought to take our lands, destroy our people. They had bound me. They had burned my mother.

  The ground shook. It was only when Chevelle’s hand touched the small of my back that I realized the tremor came from me. I had to control Asher’s magic. It was too much to release in overwhelming anger. It would consume us.

  “Elfreda of Camber,” the council speaker called from the balcony.

  I stopped him before he could finish his speech. “It is Lord Freya.”

  He set his jaw, determined to complete the show. “We of the Council of the Order of the Light Elves...”

  I glanced at Chevelle. They would proclaim their innocence, their rightfulness, play out this display in front of the new members. In front of those who didn’t know the truth.

  They intended to win.
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  They didn’t expect those on the floor to live, but they were covering their tracks in case a few survived before wearing us down. The seven of my guard. And me.

  I stepped forward. “Your words waste your final breath. We come to avenge the lives of the lady Eliza,” I let my gaze trail the balcony, “of Rosalee of Camber,” Steed stiffened beside me at the mention of his mother but I carried on, “of all the mothers of the North.”

  I lost their attention for a moment, and knew the warriors of Camber had arrived to our right. Camren would be among them. “We come to avenge the lives of Burne, and all the husbands of the North.”

  The thrum of beating hooves followed and all eyes fell to the approaching horses behind us. “We come to avenge the honor of our lands, of our people. We come to avenge our lives.”

  At this, three council members on the upper level stepped back, but I only smiled. The fourth band of Camber warriors waited behind the temple.

  “What say you, speaker?”

  I had anticipated some hesitation at the sight of the additional fighters, but there was none. What was left of this council had decided to end the North, and they apparently had no notion that they might lose.

  Their first strike was swift and severe. Some unseen signal unleashed a hail of fire, exploding light, and countless bursts of energy. There would be no weapons here, the council members on the floor would be instructed to kill or die. They would have no second chance.

  There was a thundering response from our line and nearly a third of the seventy went down. In a matter of minutes, the few who remained pushed back behind the columns where the twenty of the second line of attack waited. They worked together to bring the water. The resounding roar was accompanied by a vibration, which quickly grew to shake dust from the columns of the temple.

  When the wave crashed onto the floor beneath the balcony, the Camber lines stepped back. They had called the river on us, and it was coming with no sign of restraint. A wall of water rolled toward us with the force of two dozen’s magic. I raised my hands, wondering if I could release enough power to stop it without harm to myself or my guard.