by Amy Sumida
“I'm ready, Your Majesty,” Sir Hugh said. “My magic is surrounding us.”
“Thank you, Sir Hugh.” I took in the scene, trying to determine where to strike first and whom Hugh should warn to fall back.
Torin had said not to look for him, but that was an impossible thing to ask of me. I had to search the battle anyway, and I couldn't do that without subconsciously searching for Torin. But there was a lot to distract me from the Onyx King.
Shining Ones rarely waged war on each other, and there was a reason for that. How does one side win when both are so strong magically and physically? It was like watching a supernatural game of tennis. One opponent would sling something out, and the other side would block, then throw something else back. It was disorienting, with flashes of light and rapid maneuvers making it difficult to determine what was really happening.
Then suddenly, it all became clear. I could feel the relic warming on my chest, the stones starting to glow, imparting both their power and knowledge to me. My eyes widened as individual ribbons of magic became visible to me. I could easily determine which stone's energy was behind every attack. There, that blast was from the Diamond Queen. The power behind it couldn't be anything but royal, and the sparkling light was obviously diamond. Isandra was showering her troops with an extra coating of success.
That might have made a difference, if King Niall of Citrine hadn't negated Diamond's success spell with a flare of golden, citrine luck. Back and forth it went, streaks of multicolored magic turning the battlefield into a vibrant spiderweb, until one side managed to sneak something through. Like King Declan with Alexandrite's impressive manifestation magic. What a convenient power to possess in a war. Most of the gemstones had magic that needed to be twisted or coerced into causing harm, but Declan's was made to conquer.
King Declan's stallion, its coat the rich brown of fertile earth, reared up as he cast his magic against a unit of Opal knights. A giant scythe appeared mid-air before them, and slashed across the riders, beheading four of them in as many seconds. I inhaled sharply, the relic tingling in response to the violent display. Maybe I wouldn't be needed after all.
But it became apparent that Declan's strike was lucky. Most attacks, from either side, were parried with protection magic, or avoided with a stroke of luck. I would be needed to tip the scale. Without something stronger than all of this, the magical Newton's cradle would continue clicking back and forth indefinitely.
As if in confirmation of my thoughts, a group of Tiger's Eye soldiers rallied together, using the power of their connection to earth to throw boulders up into the path of some advancing Jade knights. Queen Oonagh caught the movement and flung out a hasty wave of Snowflake Obsidian magic to absorb the negativity. The boulders sank back into the soil as if they'd been pushed by giant hands. The Jade knights then countered with their growth magic, tripping the Opal foot soldiers with vines the width of anacondas.
Cerberus ran through it all with a happy howl. He had shifted into his other form, that of a giant, three-headed dog, and his security men had followed suit. The Hound of Hades led a pack of paranormal beasties into the fray, clearing a path for the blooders and Shining Ones behind them. Instead of looking like the second wave, Torin and his army seemed more like a British hunting party with particularly vicious hounds. They galloped after Cerberus as if they were allowing him to corner their prey, but they had no intentions of sharing the kill.
I determinedly turned away from Torin. I had to be sensible about this, unswayed by my affections. All of existence depended upon our success. I needed to choose my first target carefully. So I sorted through the chaos until I found the perfect place to start.
“There.” I chose a group that hadn't yet engaged with the Howlite army, but was nearly within range. It was a central position, meaning that if there was magical spillage, it would seep into the enemy's ranks. “Tell Howlite to rein back.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Hugh began talking into his communication unit as I pushed my earbuds in and turned on my iPod.
I wanted to start with something impressive, a song that would grab the attention of our foes, and hopefully cause some of their men to become deserters. Seeing as this was Tír na nÓg, a land of magic, I decided that something more human, more scientific, would prove the most terrifying for its inhabitants. I'd chosen “Radioactive” by Imagine Dragons.
The beat was slow and insistent, the words harsh and full of devastation. My voice pummeled out the lyrics, and the magic flared immediately from the jewels in my collar. Power bypassed my mouth altogether and shot outward across the enormous expanse of battlefield, magnified by the relic. A wasteland was evoked by the devious ditty, full of festering contagion.
A putrid yellow fog encased the team I'd targeted. The soldiers within it began to cough, and then scream brokenly. Around them, other fighters froze, to stare in horror- even the soldiers of Howlite who had been warned to expect my assault. Without even realizing what I was doing, I called upon the power of Blue Lace Agate to calm the Howlite soldiers. I watched in fascination as the creamy, robin's-egg ribbon of Blue Lace Agate energy rushed from the stone embedded in my collar, and covered the Howlite soldiers in a blanket of calm. They instantly regrouped, and headed away from the bubbling, baneful clouds of toxic gas.
My song surged into a proclamation, a warning of the weapon I wielded. It seemed that everyone looked to me, quieting enough to actually hear my disastrous declaration. It echoed over the battlefield like a rung bell. Death was coming for them. He rode the wind with my words.
For a moment, it truly seemed as if I'd brought the utter devastation of an apocalypse to Tír na nÓg. The power of my magic was multiplied by the relic, but I also held authority over all the gemstones. For the first time in my life, I felt like a true goddess, not just a halfling wannabe. I could turn the magic of the Shining Ones against them. I saw it all so vividly in my mind, the whole process of rolling the tide of energy back toward the sea. But I knew that even this clarity was a product of the stones- the Wisdom of Chrysocolla, the Inspiration of Garnet, the Self-Confidence of Carnelian. Those particular gems were glowing just slightly brighter than the rest.
And beneath all of that, the spells of my ancestors fueled me. Protect the Realms! I could hear their voices, those powerful witches whose magic still echoed through the relic. I could feel their intensity. Their determination. We would win today because there was no other acceptable outcome. That clamoring compulsion was so strong, but somehow, it was also easily muted. It was intended to be a support, not a distraction. They were with me, and we would defend the worlds together.
The fighting had begun again, but it was frantic on one side and ferocious on the other. The kingdoms that had allied with Onyx were gaining in confidence, plowing into the other forces with sure strokes of magic and steel. Our enemy was floundering, unable to even concentrate enough to throw a flash of gemstone energy back at us. Then a group of sapphire archers ran toward me together, coming in as close as they could get, to launch a volley of arrows in my direction. The projectiles hit Hugh's shield, and fell harmlessly aside.
Their faces filled with fear.
My arms spread out as I sang a mocking message back to them. The end was unavoidable, my poison would find them yet, and together, we would choke the life from their throats. The noxious cloud spread with my motions, seeping toward my sapphire assailants like a sentient being. They screamed, fleeing the roiling tide of miasma, and I felt a savage satisfaction.
The more I sang, the more powerful the magic became, and the brighter the relic glowed. It became effortless; one casual thought would send gemstone magic shimmering out from me while I simultaneously continued to cast spells with my voice. I watched with cool detachment as the Malachite Queen rode purposefully toward me, surrounded by her knights. As soon as she was within range, she blasted pure power against me. Sir Hugh tensed. He knew his shield wouldn't hold against the direct assault of a fairy queen. But fortunately for us, so did
I.
A casual flick of my finger sent an impenetrable wall up before me and Hugh. It churned with pale purple energy, fed by the pulsing amethyst in my collar, and seemed to solidify when Queen Riona's power hit it. The Malachite magic burst apart into a bunch of brilliant, green butterflies, flapping away in blissful ignorance. I paused a moment to appreciate the display. What a beautiful example of amethyst's ability to transform negative energy into positive.
Hugh fell to his knees in relief, and sent me a look that clearly expressed how equally grateful and impotent he felt. I'd reassure him later that he'd been needed, at least earlier in the war. But at the moment, I was a little too busy to assuage his male ego.
As my song wound down, the cloud of chemicals began to thin out, and the damage was revealed. Part of me flinched at the twisted faces of poisoned Shining Ones, and the burned skin of those who'd been irradiated. More men shouted in terror as the dead were exposed, but I pushed aside my squeamishness, and forged on. Billions upon billions of people would die if I didn't stop these armies.
I forged ahead to the next song.
“Pull back Onyx,” I said to Hugh.
My heart lifted when I saw how brilliantly Torin fought. He slashed with his sword while simultaneously striking out with magic. The inky tendrils of onyx lashed out like a whip, striking every target it was aimed it. Torin's horse moved beneath him without the use of reins, directed only by the angle of his rider's knees. It was fatally beautiful, turning death into art.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Hugh's voice had taken on the awed tones of an acolyte.
But I barely paid Hugh any mind. My eyes were fastened on Torin. He looked amazing amid all that morbidity. The arcs of blood, the flash of metal in the sun, it was a barbaric background that seemed perfect for Torin's harsh allure. His face was set in ferocious lines, his hair flying back like a pennant, and his teeth bared in a vicious grin. I've never seen such a hellishly handsome man.
Which made my next choice of song oddly appropriate.
I began to sing AC/DC's “Highway to Hell” as I watched Torin order his soldiers into a mock retreat. He glanced up at me, our gazes caught, and we shared a sweet smile. The rose quartz in my collar flashed, and I inhaled sharply as it momentarily intensified our love. Torin swayed in the saddle, and I yanked back the energy. The stone bowed to my will, and Torin nodded with a knowing grin, before focusing back on the war. I refocused as well, giving some imagery to my magic, directing it as clearly as I could.
That's when hell came to Tír na nÓg.
I hadn't been certain of what the song would accomplish, but I had visualized something terrible. Those visions had manifested accurately, the magic leaping to fulfill my wishes like a liberated genie. There was bravado in the lyrics, a dark reveling in their desperation. Fate was leading us straight into hell, but instead of allowing ourselves to be tormented, we were taking over. We would rule. I felt my body leaning forward into the intensity of the music. Evil infiltrated the words, and it coated my skin with a greasy film. I shouted out with the pounding blare of drums and screaming whine of guitars while the land directly before Torin's team opened up, spewing forth the denizens of the Underworld.
And not just one type of underworld. Demons from the Christian hell came crawling out of crevices, emerging gleefully from foul belches of toxic fog. Garm, the four-eyed, massive hound of the Norse Helheim, appeared in a circle of frost, icicles shooting from his spiked fur as he shook himself with canine satisfaction. The yamadutas of the Hindu Naraka formed out of fetid green effluvium, bearing whips and spears in their ashy-indigo hands. The iron snakes and fire-breathing dogs of the Buddhist Avici ran across the battlefield on razor-sharp claws, leaving scarred, steaming earth in their wake. The many-winged Erkhil Khan, of the Mongolian Kasyrgan, flew above the fight, hacking at our enemies with his gleaming, golden sword while he dumped boiling oil over them from a massive cauldron. Last, but certainly not least, Hades himself appeared, his bare chest gleaming in the glow of his flaming hands. The monsters of the Greek Underworld took shape all around him.
“Boss!” Cerberus shouted from all three of his canine mouths at once. An eerily echoing sound. “You came! That's mighty fine of you!”
“Cerberus?” Hades looked confused for a second, but then the magic took hold of him again, and compelled him forward into the fray.
Sweet screaming sirens! I was pulling people across the Veil. Not just any people either, but gods and demons. The strongest, scariest sons of bitches in all the realms were being summoned here . . . to serve my will. And I was far from done.
“Alexandrite,” I said to Hugh, and he nodded.
I held onto hell as I launched into the next song, a feat I wouldn't have previously thought possible. But the magic was growing, and it didn't want to let go of our creations. It rang out, driving the demons forward even as I sang a new song. “Last Resort” by Papa Roach.
I slashed my hand out with the stabbing vocals. Wherever I directed the magic, men fell, sliced to death as if by some gigantic blade. Every word seemed fatal, every riff filled with rage. Anger clenched my fists, and men choked to death, clawing at their throats. Blood gushed with the next line, and the fury of the fiction I sang threatened to overtake me.
The screaming climbed to an agonizing degree. If I hadn't been so lost to the power, consumed by the relic, I would have noticed that all of our troops had pulled back. They simply weren't needed any longer. The only magic in the air was mine; everything else was either nullified or hopelessly inadequate. The rival armies were throwing down their weapons, begging for mercy, but still I sang. And the song grew ever more vicious.
Soldiers began to slice their own throats. Their comrades shouted and tried to flee, but there was no escaping this dark energy. A part of me cried out in terror at the brutality, but it was trapped within the force of thousands of witches' worth of magic. My chest tightened, my lungs burning with silent screams, but my soul was drowning in fanaticism. The magic had lured me in, making me believe I was its master, when in actuality, I was nothing more than a slave. A tool for the relic to manipulate.
I waved a hand out, and a swath of soldiers went blind. Another slash, and a group of knights went insane, attacking their comrades. I started to shake as I sang with even more ferocity, my terror changing into zeal. The relic was wooing me again, luring me back into that blissful illusion that I was in control. I was so powerful. The armies of Tír na nÓg would bow before me. All of the worlds would bend knee to my will.
I watched smugly as King Galen came riding across the battlefield, waving a white flag, shouting his surrender, and still I sang. I loved it, every second of it, even though I knew this power was killing something inside me, something that very possibly was me. Who would be left when I finally stopped singing?
Hugh was down on the ground before me, begging me to stop. I ignored him, my gaze taking in the magnificence of the moment. The victory and honor I was bringing my ancestors. The protection I was providing to all of the worlds. Arrogance lifted its ugly head inside my chest, and smiled at me with shiny, celebrity teeth. You're powerful, Elaria, it whispered. You are making them scream in fear! The music faded into a new song, and I smiled into the narcissistic high. Hugh cringed away from me like I was one of the “Seven Devils” in Florence + the Machine's song.
The music slunk down into a sensual grind, but the words were pure peril. I lifted my chin as the music conveyed my personal feelings to King Galen. He didn't have anything I wanted, nothing to bargain with or offer me that would make me stop. Keep your jewels, keep your crown, keep your damn kingdom. It would be a wasteland by the time I was done. All I desired was his complete destruction. Vanquish. Conquer. Subdue. Whispers lurked just beneath my thoughts, like teeming fishes fluttering along the surface of a lake. They focused my intent for me.
Spread out below my vantage point, the denizens of the numerous hells roared in approval as the land around them slowly shifted into something they were
more accustomed to. The sky darkened. The scent of blood and bile filled the air. Flames shot upward from the broken earth. Thunder cracked like a whip and lightning nipped at its heels in unnatural colors.
I sang on mercilessly, the hell of my previous performance merging with my current manifestation. Devils, demons, and dark gods ruled the war. But they were all there for me, eager to obey my every whim.
The Sapphire Castle shivered like a frightened feline, caught fire, and began to crumble. The crashes of its descent filled the air with the sound of doom, as fire filled it with oppressive smoke. The ground beneath my feet shook with earthquakes and the tread of monsters. Tír na nÓg was trembling in fear, and I rejoiced in it.
“Elaria!” Banning crested the hill, and came running to me. I couldn't hear his words, but I read his lips, the magic of the relic translating the motion so that I understood easily.
Hugh dropped his shields, and backed away from us both.
“Elaria!” Banning screamed into my face, shaking me. “Stop this! You're killing them all! This is pointless slaughter, Ellie. They've surrendered! Please stop!”
Banning yanked me against his chest and tried to kiss me, but I just tore my mouth away and continued to sing.
“Please,” Banning begged me. “I know you're still in there. You can come back. Just believe in yourself.”
“El, my girl.” Cerberus was back in human form. He put a firm hand on my shoulder. “That's enough now.”
Cer tore the iPod from me, the buds popping free of my ears. The cacophony of battle hit me hard as I lost my musical buffer. But I didn't need to hear the song anymore. It was inside me. I sang on, giving the lyrics life, helping their threats take shape. Ignoring Cer and Banning, I concentrated on the war.
