The fight would have been easier had the boar’s tusks been of normal length and shape. Not only were these twisted and angled in odd directions, but they were also nearly the length of Peter’s sword. Peter hopped onto the counter to stay out of reach of the tusks, which were being swished back and forth like the swords of a drunken sailor, but he knew he couldn’t stay there for long.
The bakery’s front window lay just behind the pig, and it was open, just enough for Peter to fit through. Peter began to step sideways along the counter toward the window. As soon as he had taken two or three steps, however, the pig caught on to his plan, and Peter barely avoided having his leg gouged as the boar swiped at him even harder. He glanced behind him and saw a bag of flour. Grabbing the scoop, he pulled out a pile of flour and hurled it at the pig’s eyes. The pig squealed but lost its vision just long enough for Peter to run it through with his sword.
Once back out in the street, Peter began to fight his way toward the wall. His men were more spread out now. Tomas and Antony were closest, so Peter slowly made his way toward them. When he was just fifteen feet away, a pile of dead animals in his wake, a towering bull elk stopped him in his tracks.
It snorted and lowered its horns, a twisted bramble of thorny weaponry. Peter dropped into a ready stance, but just as he prepared to roll and attack from its side, he was knocked over from behind. The offending fox scampered off, baring its teeth as it went. Before Peter could get up, the bull began to charge.
Peter raised his sword even though he knew full well it would be impossible to kill the bull from his angle. But instead of being stabbed by horns, he heard a cry. He turned to find Antony standing between him and the animal, his mouth open and his eyes blank as he looked down at where the bull’s horn had pierced his armor.
Tomas finished off the bull while Peter pulled Antony back to the wall. The animals were fewer now, and most of the remaining beasts had dispersed into the city. But this was of little comfort as Peter tried to pull Antony’s armor off to stop the bleeding.
“I thought you would be relieved,” Antony mumbled weakly as Peter fought with his armor.
“ Why on earth would I be relieved?” Peter growled.
“You said you wanted me dead.”
“I said I wanted to kill you. Not some mangled beast.”
“Ah, that makes all the difference.” Antony leaned back, shuddering as Peter worked. But before Peter could finish, Antony’s eyes grew large and he tapped Peter on the shoulder and pointed up. Peter turned and followed his gaze. And when he saw what Antony was pointing at, his blood ran cold.
Katy was chained to the outdoor platform on which he’d had his coronation. And beside her was the olc.
“Go!” Antony coughed.
Peter took one more long look at his friends. They looked a bit worse for the wear. Still, they were alive. Tomas was breathing hard and gave him a shadow of a smile, and Domnhall was letting out a yell as he put an end to another beast. But it was Carey who gave him the biggest nod.
“Go, sire. We will take care of this.”
Normally, Peter would have protested. But seeing Katy’s defeated form pressed against the platform above had hardened him. As soon as he was able to scale the outer wall again, Peter was on his way. And for the first time in his life, he coveted blood.
56
Walls
Katy closed her eyes to try and reorient herself. The power coursing through her was a thousand times stronger than she had ever felt it. Even on her worst day, the destructive forces she’d struggled to contain had felt like a gentle breeze compared to the tornado of energy that swirled inside her now. The platform’s covering was long gone, and Katy was rather sure she had been the one to destroy it. But there was no way of knowing.
And yet it hadn’t overcome her completely. Despite the nearly overwhelming desire to lie down on the cold stone floor of the platform and let the internal storm consume her, the rage she felt toward the fairy on the opposite edge of the platform was even stronger.
There had been a time, just after Tearlach had tossed her down and moved to his corner of the platform, that Katy was sure her fight was lost. To simply exist and allow the explosions rocking her body to destroy everything around her would have been far easier than resisting.
The sundial’s shadow in her mind that had seemed so friendly and intriguing when she’d first identified it was no longer inviting or lively. Instead, it was angry and violent, threatening to wind around every living thing and choke the life out of it whenever she shut her eyes.
And she wasn’t the only one to feel it. The world around her was groaning. Windows rattled, stones in the castle cracked, and even the mortar of the houses in the city below was trying to dissolve. Just like her power, her senses were heightened, thrown out and spread upon the air so she could feel it all. Every grain of sand had weight as it rode upon the wind. Every breeze had a sound and scent and taste within.
And the force inside her wanted to destroy it all.
Only one sound had been able to pull her from the depths of chaos she’d sunk to inside her mind and body. And that sound was the single smug chuckle that Tearlach let loose.
Upon hearing the chuckle, Katy forced her eyes to open enough to see the black clouds mounting in the sky. Slowly, so slowly, she pulled herself to the edge of the platform, where, shaking, she looked over the low wall to the courtyard and city below.
The clouds below were too thick to see through, but with her new powerful senses, she could hear the guards’ cries of fear and pain above the storms.
And once, just once, from the western battlement of the outer wall, she thought she heard Peter.
Her lapse in focus was long enough for a single wave of power to slip out of her reach, and before she could catch it, it rolled down and burst through one particularly nasty batch of mud-tinted clouds, leaving a gaping hole behind it.
Katy almost smiled in spite of herself. She had tried to break her own chains countless times, but it had never worked. Instead of her chains, other objects were broken. A nearby window, a tree below. But as the hole in the cloud appeared, she discovered something amazing. She might not be able to control her powers enough to use them on small objects, or even on Tearlach himself, but she could inflict chaos on much larger things.
Like clouds.
And wind.
And hail.
Tearlach wanted her to let go of her inhibitions and let the power within her devour the world. Well, let go she did.
Tearlach spent a few moments in frustrated confusion when she first began. She could see it in the stress that lined his face as he stared down at the breaking, dying storms below. But eventually he turned to her, and his dark eyes bulged.
“What are you doing?” He started toward her. As he walked, Katy closed her eyes and imagined the sundial’s shadow encircling her continually, like a whirlpool that pressed out instead of in. He was knocked backward so hard that she heard the crack of his head as it hit the stone. Unfortunately, it wasn’t hard enough. He scrambled back to his feet and tried again.
Knocking him over was the easiest thing in the world. Katy nearly laughed as he tried again and again to reach her. The difficulty in harnessing the defense mechanism in her mind, however, was not keeping him out, but rather preventing the whirling power from expanding out into the castle or the city or the people below. And yet, for one moment, she was victorious.
Her victory was short-lived, however. When Tearlach finally stood and no longer attempted to touch her, she thought he might give up. Instead, he stormed off the platform and into the castle. Katy returned her attention to finding a way out of the chains and begging Atharo to let her go. Before she could escape, however, Tearlach stalked back out onto the platform, and behind him, he dragged the king.
Katy wanted to scream. Tearlach was always a step ahead.
He stopped about ten feet away from her and flung the king to the ground. From the way Peter’s uncle slowly rolled to his
side and moaned, it was obvious that he’d been beaten.
“You think you’re helping them!” Tearlach called over the wind as it picked up again. “But every time you interfere, you only drag out their misery. Now I want you to think very carefully about your next choice.” He pulled a knife from his belt and held it against the king’s neck. Peter’s uncle let out something that sounded halfway between a sob and a cry of anger.
“You can either leave my storms alone, or I will kill him. Your choice.”
The king began to beg and plead for Tearlach to stop and for Katy to help him, admonishing her to remember all that Peter had done. “Peter believes that you have good in you!” he called from his knees, his thick robe getting soaked as it lay on the ground. “You don’t have to kill me!” His last words were little more than a whimper.
“You’re right. She doesn’t.” Tearlach’s eyes gleamed a little too brightly. “She can have compassion on you should she wish to. But to do that,” he spoke slowly, “she must leave the storms alone.”
Katy felt her eyes fill with tears. “I can’t,” she whispered. As if to agree with her, another cry sounded from the wall below, followed immediately by a clap of thunder that rocked the entire castle.
“I beg you!” the king called. “Please! For the sake of—“
Katy let out a little moan as the power within her increased even more. The more she held in her rampaging power, the more intensely her entire body hurt, like fishhooks embedded in every muscle. “If I stop,” she cried, throwing her hands over her ears in an attempt to block the pain, “Peter and all his men will die!”
The king stopped struggling against Tearlach’s grip. And in that moment, Katy could see that he finally understood. His eyes cleared, and where confusion and cowardice had been, courage slowly took their place. Finally, squaring his shoulders, he nodded once.
“Take care of them.” he said. “And Katrin? I’m sor—”
Katy shrieked as his body slumped to the ground. She couldn’t remove her eyes from it as Tearlach sheathed his knife and shook his head. Then he dragged the body over to the side, where he rolled it over the ledge.
“Now,” he glared at her as he walked back, “you have thirty seconds to let go of my storms, or I’m going to find someone else. And this time, I’ll make sure they mean something to you.”
Atharo, please. Just make it stop! She could just imagine who he might pick next. A child from the village. Lady Chloe, or even worse, Lady Muirin and her unborn babe. Allowing Tearlach full control of his storms was out of the question. Even now, she could hear the men below calling out to one another, trying to revive or find their fallen comrades. But watching him take the life of another even more innocent creature was more than Katy thought she could bear. She scrunched her eyes shut, again silently begging that it would all simply melt away.
“I see you made it.”
Katy opened her eyes at Tearlach’s words. Her heart leapt and fell when she saw Peter standing on the platform with them. He held a torch, and only then did Katy realize how dark it had become. The day was growing late.
His armor was dented all over and tarnished in multiple places, far different than the gleaming metal he’d left the castle with weeks before. His dark hair was soaked with rain, and he had more cuts and bruises than Katy cared to count. He also stood as though favoring his left leg. But never had he been so beautiful. Unlike his uncle, he stood tall, his shoulders squared and his chin high. Nothing about him wavered or faltered, and Katy had never loved him more.
Before she could respond, another jolt of pain made her arms give out, and she hit the ground hard.
“Katy!” She heard Peter cry out. He marched over and broke her chains with a single stroke of his sword. Katy rolled over slowly as he helped her sit up.
“She doesn’t have much longer,” Tearlach said. Surprisingly, his voice was void of the cruel joy he’d shown earlier. Instead, it was quiet, as though he, too, were mourning the passing of time. “In a few hours, midnight will fall, and the pain will end.” He turned to Peter. “Which is more than I can say for you.”
Peter stood and tore his gaze away from Katy, finally meeting the fairy’s glare. He placed the torch in a hook on the wall, raised his sword, and melted into a fighting stance.
Tearlach began to circle him. “I must say your courage has improved. Much better than that time in the woods.”
Peter launched the first attack. He lunged toward the fairy with a series of quick parries and jabs. Tearlach didn’t have a sword, but he made up for it with gusts of wind and balls of hail aimed expertly at his opponent.
“You never told her what really happened to your father.” Tearlach circled again. “Perhaps now is the time.”
“You said you killed him.” Katy shouted at the fairy as she tried to push herself out of her sitting position.
“Technically, yes. But what I didn’t tell you, and what your prince failed to mention as well, was that someone else was there who could have stopped me,” Tearlach’s eyes narrowed, “had he harbored the courage to do so.”
Peter briefly closed his eyes, and his jaw and neck tightened. Katy stared at him for a long moment until it made sense. With brilliant clarity, she understood the reason he hadn’t wanted her to see the waterfall’s memories. It was the same reason he believed he couldn’t be king.
Peter still didn’t speak. Instead, he fought harder. Each strike seemed like it should fell his opponent, but Tearlach kept the elements against him, and soon it was all Peter could do to stay on his feet.
“You had the chance.” Tearlach pressed forward again. With a quick flick of his wrist, a hailstone the size of Katy’s fist hit Peter on the back. Peter stumbled forward. Katy longed to run to his side, but the ever-increasing weight of power pressed down on her shoulders and kept her on the ground.
“Had you possessed any sliver of courage, you would have plunged that dagger in my back and saved your father.” He gave a nod, and sheets of rain began to drive Peter backward. “And by the time I noticed you hiding in the bushes, it was too late. All you could do was turn tail and run.” Tearlach turned to Katy, his face eager in the light of the torch. “You see? You lose nothing by his death!” He stepped forward to where Peter had fallen, placing one boot carefully over Peter’s fingers. Peter let out a cry, and Katy heard something crack.
She tried desperately to break the erratic little storms the fairy was building around them and pounding Peter with, but nearly all of her strength was now dedicated to keeping the power locked safely inside her, away from the castle and the beating hearts of those inside.
“It must be painful to watch one you love slip away because you were weak.” Tearlach walked over to Katy and bent down to brush his hand across her cheek. “But I suppose it’s better this way. No human deserves beauty like hers.”
Though Katy continued to grow closer to unconsciousness, the lights that flashed and danced in her head suddenly blazed like a beacon in the night. Strength. She had far too much strength. Strength that urged her to pulverize everything around her. She was a weapon unto herself and had never believed that any good could come from such an existence. Firin Reaghan had urged her to consider Atharo’s purposes, but aside from saving Domnhall, she’d tried and failed. And the fear and disgust she had seen in the eyes of those at the ball had reflected the fear and disgust that lived in her heart. But in that moment, Katy knew exactly why she had been given the terrifying strength that hummed as it moved through her blood and bones.
Unfortunately, Tearlach had used her lapse of focus to his own advantage. Using wind and rain and hail and lightning, he pushed Peter into the far back corner of the platform. And as he lay wedged in the corner, pressed down by the roaring wind that kept him there, Tearlach raised his hand above his head.
Katy struggled to her feet as she prayed. You do care. Tears threatened to come to her eyes once again, and she allowed herself a small smile as peace filled her heart. There was a place for
her in this world. She had been slow to see and even slower to believe. But now the reason for her existence was as plain as day. She drew in a deep breath of rain-soaked air as she finally made it to her feet. And Atharo? Thank you.
Tearlach didn’t see her walking toward him until she let out a burst of energy strong enough to knock over everything in her path. Then it was all too easy to release the weight she’d been shouldering and keep him pressed to the ground along with Peter. Her feet felt like stones as she forced them to walk toward the two men. She ignored Tearlach’s cries and pleas, and finally allowed herself to collapse at Peter’s side.
“You…have…to go…” Peter panted, whether from her power or the strain of the fight, Katy couldn’t tell.
Instead of running as he said, she reached up and placed her fingers on his lips. They were dry and cracked, but she wouldn’t have changed them for the world. “So that’s what you are afraid of,” she whispered. “All these years, you thought his death was your fault.”
“I could have killed Tearlach,” Peter rasped and swallowed hard. His hand shook as he raised it to touch her face. “If I’d only had enough courage—”
“You were just a boy.” Katy leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. Rain still pounded down on the platform, and Tearlach groaned behind them, but Katy kept her eyes on Peter’s face. “Your father wouldn’t have wanted you to shed his blood even if you could.”
Peter shook his head. “But I could have prevented all of this.”
Katy smiled and took her hand in his. “No. I still would have manifested, and we would have been no closer to knowing how to stop it.” She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his. “But I finally understand my place in this world.” Her voice threatened to tremble and she squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that wanted so badly to fall. “And I want to thank you.” She placed a soft kiss against his temple. “Without you, I never would have known why Atharo put me on this earth.”
The Autumn Fairy (The Autumn Fairy Trilogy Book 1) Page 42
