Rise of the Darklings

by Paul Crilley

  What if Sebastian was right? What if the Dagda really did plan on bringing his own armies through?

  She wanted to trust him. But when you were promised everything your heart could possibly want, you had to ask: what was the catch? Emily squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Emily,” repeated the Dagda. “The key. Where is it?”

  And then she heard Merlin’s voice in her head, as clear as if he were standing right next to her.

  You must try and make the decisions that are true and pure. Those decisions might not necessarily be what you want, but such is life. We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good. You are no different.

  Emily opened her eyes and looked calmly at the imposing figure standing before her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t give it to you.”

  He didn’t say anything, but the white pupils of his eyes dilated and his eyebrows drew together in a fierce frown. He bared his teeth in a snarl of anger, and that was when Emily knew she had made the right decision.

  The Dagda stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “Give it to me! Where is it?”

  “I tire of this,” said the Queen. “Ravenhill?”

  Emily saw the Queen standing only two paces away, gazing over the park with glittering eyes. “I think it is time to give your signal, Ravenhill.”

  An ear-shattering crack exploded through the cold air. Emily jumped in alarm, wrenching her arm away from the Dagda. She turned and saw Ravenhill lowering the gun he had just fired into the sky.

  A second later there was an answering shot from the forest. Then the members of the Order broke through the tree line, about a hundred men, all of them charging straight for their position.

  Emily looked over her shoulder at the Queen and the Dagda. How were they going to stop them? It was supposed to be a trap, but Emily couldn’t see what they had planned.

  The Order drew closer, a silent, heaving line, their breath pluming into the air. Emily could see their faces now. She spotted Mr. Blackmore, and to her surprise he was running slightly ahead of the others, as if eager to get into battle.

  And so he was the first to die.

  A fey troll, a hulking slab of gray meat holding a long spear, appeared out of thin air. Blackmore ran straight into it, the point punching through his body and out his back.

  Emily screamed in horror as the trap was sprung. The fey faded into view, totally surrounding the members of the Invisible Order. They stopped running and formed into a circle. The battle was joined with screams of wrath and defiance.

  Everywhere Emily looked she saw a different face, a different species, all leaping into the fray. A man who had only one of each feature and one of each limb hopped into battle swinging a bronze hammer over his head. Tiny, elflike creatures rode on the backs of crows, bombarding those below with arrows and spears so small they were all but invisible. A tall creature with a long, hairy nose held a sword in each hand, wielding them like a butcher. Another, with huge hands and huge feet, trampled into the ranks of the Order, kicking and striking those around him. Witches stepped out of the bark of trees to grab their prey as they stumbled past. Black Annis grabbed hold of people and lifted them up so that they stared into her cloaked face. Their screams of fear and horror were terrible to hear. Jenny Greenteeth simply grabbed anyone she could and tried to eat them. Emily could just make out a dark shadow crawling between the fighters. As she watched, tendrils of darkness probed outward and wrapped around a member of the Invisible Order, yanking him backward into the shadow of a tree. The Dark Man, hunting his prey.

  On the outskirts, Emily saw the dark, painted faces of the Black Sidhe. They darted into the fray with their spears and fired their elf bolts from the sidelines. Keeping pace with them were tiny human shapes with the heads of rabbits, foxes, and birds. They barked and whistled as they joined in the fight, biting and scratching for all they were worth.

  Everywhere Emily looked she saw the fey, Seelie and Unseelie, joining forces against their common foe.

  But the Invisible Order was not giving up without a fight. Shots rang out, and the fey collapsed and died with lead-and-iron bullets eating their way through their bodies. Those who didn’t have guns used iron swords, cleaving their way toward the Queen and the Dagda, trying to break through the defenses of the fey to strike down their leaders. Emily saw Sebastian at the forefront of this line, blood from Ravenhill’s blow still coating his face.

  And Ravenhill watched it all, an impassive look on his cold face.

  Tears streamed down Emily’s face. People were dying, and nobody cared.

  “Stop!” she screamed. “Stop it now!” She turned to where the Queen and the Dagda stood, watching the slaughter. “I’ll get you the key. Just stop them!”

  The Dagda raised his hand and immediately the Unseelie stopped their attack and stepped back. The Queen’s subjects did the same. The Invisible Order—what was left of it—looked around in dull-eyed confusion. They drew together in bloodied clumps of humanity, cries of pain and anguish the only sounds in the predawn air.

  “Bring the key, Emily Snow,” said the Queen. “Bring it now or we kill every single one of them.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  In which Emily faces the final choice.

  SIX THIRTY IN THE MORNING

  ON THE THIRD DAY OF EMILY’S ADVENTURES.

  Emily retrieved the key.

  She stood by the oak tree where she had buried it, staring at the wooden circle in her hands. She had lost. If she didn’t give them the key, they would kill all those people.

  But if you do give them the key, how many more will die?

  Emily walked slowly back toward the hill. At the top, she paused and looked over the field of battle below her.

  The members of the Order were dragging their wounded and dead into a circle defended by those who could still wield their weapons. But the fey weren’t paying them any attention. Every single one of them was looking in her direction. She could sense their anticipation, their eagerness.

  Emily couldn’t believe how badly she had failed. After all that she had been through to get the key before the fey did, here she was about to simply hand it over to them.

  She started walking again. The ranks of the fey formed a solid wall before her, but as she approached, they peeled off to the side, opening a clear path into their midst. As she passed the first of them, she looked over her shoulder to see the fey closing in behind her, blocking off any chance of escape. So she was not walking a path, but rather moving through the mass of terrible creatures in a small circle of clear ground.

  She reached the Queen and the Dagda, both of whom had their hands outstretched.

  “Give it to me,” commanded the Queen. “Or they all die.”

  “Emily. I can still give you your parents,” said the Dagda, stepping forward.

  As soon as he moved, the Queen moved as well, and Emily could hear a hiss of anger and unease running through the fey behind her. She realized that whatever pact had joined them in their fight against the Invisible Order had dissolved. Both sides wanted their hands on the key. Whoever opened the door would control the way to Faerie. And that was something the King and the Queen both wanted for themselves.

  Emily looked up at the sky. Dawn was arriving, but it was hidden behind thick, gray clouds. As she stared upward, something light and feathery drifted down and landed on her forehead. Then another, then another.

  It was snowing.

  Emily held out her hand and watched the silent snowflakes settle on her dirty palm.

  “No work today,” she whispered, then smiled.

  The Queen frowned. “What did you say?”

  But Emily didn’t get a chance to answer.

  “Emily Snow!” shouted a voice.

  Everyone turned to look in the direction of the voice. At first there was nothing, no indication as to who had shouted.

  Then Jack and William appeared over the rise.

  Emily’s eyes widened in horror. What were the
y doing? They were going to get killed! Emily opened her mouth to scream at them, to order them back.

  But then a line of fey exploded into view behind them.

  Emily blinked in astonishment. Jack and William lifted swords in the air and started to run. She saw Mr. Pemberton, with Corrigan sitting on the gnome’s shoulders and holding on for dear life, sprinting right behind them. And there was Merrian lumbering onto the field of battle, a huge stone ax in his hands. Behind them came the Landed Gentry and others as well, creatures Emily didn’t recognize.

  “Jack!” she shouted joyfully. “William!”

  “And Corrigan!” shouted the piskie, waving his bronze sword above his head. Mr. Pemberton stumbled as Corrigan accidentally poked him in the eye, but the gnome quickly steadied himself as he was overtaken by a horde of shouting, screaming gnomes, all of them armed with swords and dressed in immaculate suits.

  “Kill them!” shouted the Dagda. “Kill every last one of the traitors!”

  And the fey launched into their second attack of the morning.

  But no sooner had the battle been joined then the surviving members of the Order launched an attack from the left flank, so that the Dagda and the Queen’s armies were assailed on two sides. Confusion swept through their ranks.

  Ravenhill grabbed Emily’s arm and wrenched her around. Emily fought desperately, but he was too strong for her. He yanked the key from her grasp.

  He quickly handed it to the Queen, then threw Emily to the ground and turned his pistol on the Dagda, who was just about to launch himself at the Queen.

  “I really do not advise it,” Ravenhill said. “Iron rounds, don’t you know. Nasty.”

  But Emily paid no attention to this. She only had eyes for the Queen.

  She was doing something with the key. She untwined and then retied some of the roots that wrapped around the circle. Her motions were precise and practiced, as if she had done such a thing before. When she was finished, she turned to the oak tree and placed the key in a hollow in the trunk. It fit perfectly.

  A second later a dark hole opened up in the trunk, growing in size until it became an archway opening directly into the tree itself. The outline of the arch was uneven, forming around the seams and boles of the bark. It gave the impression that the hole had grown into place over hundreds of years instead of appearing just moments before.

  A sallow light burst out of the tree, bathing them in a sickly glow the color of old bone. Emily squinted through the arch and found herself looking into a massive, decaying throne room. A bulbous, oversize moon cast its jaundiced glow through shattered windows, illuminating a chamber filled with dark, withered creatures. Emily stared in horror. It was as if someone had taken the fey and transformed them into nightmarish, misshapen versions of themselves.

  A movement caught Emily’s eye. She focused her attention on the rear of the room, where a figure sitting on a twisted black throne slowly stood up, looking in Emily’s direction.

  It looked like—

  No. It couldn’t be. She had to be mistaken.

  But the more Emily squinted into the gate the more she realized she wasn’t mistaken at all.

  The figure now striding through the hordes of monstrous fey was the mirror image of Queen Kelindria. It could have been her twin.

  “Em!” called a voice.

  Emily glanced over her shoulder and saw Jack, William, and Corrigan running toward her. She quickly turned her attention back to the tree and saw that the creatures were stirring, turning, and following the tall, pale figure of Kelindria as she strode toward the gate.

  Emily wearily pushed herself up. She couldn’t let this happen. It was her fault. It was her responsibility.

  Emily moved slowly toward the tree, knowing what she had to do. She turned once, smiling sadly and waving goodbye to William. His eyes widened.

  “Emily! No!” he screamed.

  But Emily didn’t listen. All of her attention was focused on the figure on the other side of the gate. The Faerie Queen (or whoever it was), paused just beyond the doorway and pointed a shaking finger at Emily, her face a mask of hatred and fury. The finger moved slowly through the gate.

  Emily ran.

  She ran past Ravenhill, who tried to grab her, and past the Dagda, who was looking through the gate in shock.

  And finally she ran past the Queen, the real one, who let out such a screech of anger that Emily shuddered in fear.

  The finger emerging through the gate became an arm. Emily pushed past it, still hearing the Queen’s cries behind her. She reached up and wrenched the key from its place in the bark. The door flickered, darkness and shadow replacing the pale yellow moonlight.

  “No!” shouted the Queen, but it was too late. Emily covered her eyes and leapt through the door. She heard Jack shouting her name from somewhere close by. The sounds of battle in Hyde Park echoed loudly for a second.

  Then stopped.

  She was surrounded by utter blackness.

  For a horror-filled second, she wondered if she had become trapped inside the tree, but then she was falling. Light flashed by, and voices, a whirlwind of sounds and sights: the clash of steel, the whinny of horses, a shout of surprise, of fear, a deep, horrific chuckle that sent shivers up her spine, searing heat, a face made from flames, a boy in a tunic holding a sword, a man who looked somehow familiar. There were other things she didn’t understand, sights that flashed by too quickly to register.

  Then she landed on the grass. Emily cried out, then lay still for a moment, trying to remember how to breathe.

  She finally managed to push herself to her knees. She didn’t recognize her surroundings, but she could hear the sounds of water lapping close by.

  She staggered to her feet, and only then realized where she was.

  She was standing on the bank of the Thames looking out over London. But it wasn’t a London she was familiar with. The city was smaller, less sprawling than the one she knew. The buildings rested lower to the ground, huddled close together as if in fear of something. Off to her right, London Bridge stretched across the water. Houses and buildings clustered together along its path, climbing one atop the other to make the most of available space. Crowds milled about on the bridge, and she could see people standing beside stalls and barrows.

  Emily looked around numbly. A warm wind buffeted her back, and something slapped against her leg. She looked down and saw it was a piece of paper. She picked it up. The London Gazette, it said. Emily’s eyes scrolled across the primitive typeface, then froze when she saw the date.

  From Monday, Septem 3, to Monday, Octob 26, 1666.

  1666!

  Emily dropped the paper and stared across the Thames in numb horror. Things slowly started to fall into place. Everything the Queen had said about waiting two hundred years for revenge. Everything Merlin had said about knowing her. It was all true. She really had been here. She was here.

  Emily was startled by a series of thumps on the grass behind her. She whirled around, ready to run from whatever new horror awaited.

  Except it wasn’t anything horrific. In fact, it was the total opposite.

  Jack, William, and Corrigan lay in an untidy heap on the grass. Corrigan was hitting Jack on the head.

  “Get off me! How much do you weigh?”

  William pushed himself to his knees and looked around with a dazed expression on his face. Emily ran forward and grabbed her startled brother in a fierce hug. After a few moments, he tried to push away.

  “Em! I can’t breathe.”

  Emily reluctantly released William. Jack was standing behind him, his arms outstretched.

  “Don’t I get a hug?”

  Emily hesitated, then stepped forward and hugged Jack, as well. She released him and turned to Corrigan. The piskie brandished his bronze sword at her. “Don’t even think about it. I have my dignity.”

  Emily smiled, looking at the others in amazement. “How did you get here?”

  “Couldn’t let you just run through on yo
ur own,” said the piskie. “I’m the only one who can keep you out of trouble.” He shrugged his thin shoulders. “So I followed you in. Then these two louts followed me. Just made it, too, before the door closed.”

  “Actually,” said William, “that’s not quite how it happened. I think Jack and I ran through first.”

  “Details, details,” said Corrigan dismissively.

  “You said ‘just before the door closed,’ ” said Emily. “So we did it? The Queen’s army won’t get through?”

  “No, girl,” said Corrigan gently. “You saved London.” He straightened up. “But you wouldn’t have been able to do it without me, eh? How many times did I save your life?”

  “What are you talking about?” snapped Jack. “You’ve been nothing but trouble from the get-go. We’d be better off without you.”

  “Oh, so that’s how it is, is it? I’ll have you know—” Corrigan stopped as he finally took in their surroundings. “Where are we?” he asked.

  “London,” said Emily. “Sometime between September third and October twenty-sixth.”

  Corrigan frowned, still looking around. “What year?” he asked slowly.

  “Sixteen sixty-six.”

  “Sixteen sixty-six?” said Corrigan, his voice heavy with dread.

  Emily shivered, glancing at William and Jack. They were both staring at the piskie, worried looks on their faces. “What is it? Corrigan, what’s wrong?”

  “This is when the war begins, Emily. This is when the Fire King tries to destroy London.”

  Emily felt sick. She stared at the buildings on the opposite shore, trying to imagine the flames raging throughout the city. The screams of the dying.

  “The Great Fire of London,” she whispered.

  “The second war of the races,” Corrigan whispered back.

  Here ends Rise of the Darklings, Book One of The Invisible Order. Book Two, The Fire King, will chronicle Emily’s encounters with the Order as she tries to help Christopher Wren and Merlin the Enchanter stop the evil that is known as the Fire King.