by Jane Godman
Soon, she told herself, this ridiculous pretense will be over and we can all get on with trying to slaughter each other. And when that happens—she looked directly at Niniane with a bright smile—you are all mine, lady. Showing a flicker of emotion for the first time, the sorceress recoiled slightly as though she could sense the trend of Stella’s thoughts.
“You look beautiful, my star.” Moncoya came toward her. For a moment Stella thought he was going to kiss her. Although it was a perfectly natural gesture for a bridegroom, she wasn’t sure she would be able to stop herself from pulling away. Fortunately, he simply moved to take her other arm so that he and Lorcan escorted her the last few steps together.
When they stood before Niniane, with their backs to the assembled guests, Stella drew a steadying breath. This was it. Everything seemed to slow to half speed. Lorcan withdrew her hand from his arm. His eye closed in an infinitesimal wink.
“Showtime.”
He placed Stella’s hand in Moncoya’s and, the instant their fingertips touched, an explosion ripped through the eastern wing of the palace. The uppermost part of the turret exploded in flames while chunks of white marble rained down onto the gardens and the wedding party. Chaos ensued as the guests scurried from their seats, screaming and seeking cover. Instinct prompted them to run away from the scene of the explosion, but the only shelter offered was the dense forest on the hillside. As soon as the first partygoers moved in that direction, a pack of Iberian sidhes burst out of the foliage and stormed toward the open ground.
Without releasing Stella’s hand, Moncoya barked a command to Prince Tibor. “Deal with this. You—” he modified his tone slightly as he addressed Niniane “—may begin the ceremony.” His hand was like iron closing around Stella’s wrist. “This is a formality. We shared food. You are already mine.”
Prince Tibor whirled away, issuing commands to Dimitar in a guttural Germanic language. Stella risked a glance over her shoulder. Within seconds, all around the prince, ebbing and flowing as if drawn to him on currents of air, the vampire hordes were massing. It was clear that his powers, although very different from Stella’s, were equal to her own. The Iberian sidhes would be outnumbered in minutes.
It was time to stop pretending. Stella tugged her hand free. “Sorry, Ezra, I hate to disillusion you, but I’ve been cheating on you. I’ve shared food with another man.” She dropped her bouquet at Niniane’s feet.
“Cavalry’s here.” Lorcan nodded to where Cal and Jethro were advancing with the Iberian sidhes.
“I can’t tell what’s happening down here. I need to be able to see what’s going on.” Stella looked around.
“What you need is a command post.”
“Exactly. That’ll do.” She pointed to an ornate pagoda on top of an incline. “Tell Cal I’ll be up there.”
When she reached the vantage point, the scene below her had changed beyond recognition from the wedding party of minutes earlier. The battle lines were drawn. Moncoya’s sidhes, the vampires and their accompanying human servants were facing the hopelessly outnumbered Iberian sidhes, led by Cal, Lorcan and Jethro. Several guests, injured by flying debris from the explosion, scurried—bloodied and covered in white dust—out of the way. Bright flames and black smoke pouring from its eastern wing marred the storybook perfection of the palace.
“You?” Stella’s attention was drawn to Niniane as she heard her speak for the first time. The sorceress was staring at Cal with a mixture of loathing and longing on her face. “How can this be?”
“Sometimes you’re only as good as your last trick,” he told her, walking away. So much for kryptonite. It seemed Cal really had managed to break free of her at last. Stella winced as Niniane’s desperate howls followed him. Someone really needed to sit Niniane down—bottle of wine in one hand, tissues in the other—and talk to her about handling a breakup with dignity.
Moncoya’s attention had been fixed on his beautiful palace. When he finally dragged his gaze away, the air around him shimmered with the force of his fury. “Get on with this.”
Obedient to his command, Moncoya’s sidhes rushed forward. Bravely, the Iberian sidhes prepared for their onslaught. Stella tried to follow the action as fierce hand-to-hand fighting ensued. There was nothing she could do about this. Sidhes were not dead or undead. They had never been mortal. Her powers would be useless against them.
Prince Tibor issued a command and lightning fast, the vampires moved as one flowing mass to join the fray. Stella braced herself. This was something she could control. At least she could stop the vampires from harming the Iberian sidhes.
“Oflinnan.” Stella issued the halt command from her vantage point at the same time that Cal’s compelling tone rang out below her. Their combined power was such that they halted the vampires in their tracks instantly.
All around the vampires—frozen in place now like beautiful, monstrous statues—the fighting between the two opposing sidhe factions raged fast and vicious. Dirty tricks seemed to be compulsory. Across the distance between them, Stella had trouble locating Prince Tibor amid all the biting, gouging, kicking and scratching. Scanning the melee, she spotted him standing obediently stock-still in the midst of a particularly frenzied exchange. Nearby, Vashti punched one of the Iberian sidhes in the face before driving the full force of her elbow into his windpipe. Her prey fell to the ground and a pack of Moncoya’s sidhes fell on him like ravening dogs. Stella looked away as they systematically ripped him apart. Unmoved, Vashti advanced toward her next victim.
Stella focused her full attention on the vampire prince. She needed him and his followers out of the way even though their human servants would continue fighting on behalf of their masters. She needed an uncluttered view of what was going on.
“Swactrian.”
Although Stella spoke the Anglo-Saxon order to retreat softly, the word reached the prince, acting like a charm to rouse him from his trance. Prince Tibor and his followers were gone with the swift flash and sway of movement that was unique to vampires. She breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived.
“You dare to give orders to my master, necromancer? You will pay for this impertinence.”
Turning, she found herself confronted by the ice-carving features of Dimitar, Prince Tibor’s human servant. Dimitar’s smile deepened to a point beyond malevolence. His hand flashed out, grabbing her around the throat.
“Let go of me.” Stella’s words came out on a croak as his grip tightened, compressing her windpipe.
“I am not undead. I still live and breathe. You cannot command me, necromancer bitch.”
“While that might be true, it doesn’t mean a good kick in the balls won’t make your eyes water.” Coming up behind him, Jethro lifted Dimitar off his feet and away from Stella by the scruff of his neck. “What do you reckon, shall I throw this piece of shit into the lake?”
Massaging her bruised neck, Stella didn’t answer. Before she could take stock of what was happening in the gardens below, a rumbling noise from the direction of the forest drew her attention. Even Dimitar stopped struggling in Jethro’s hold and craned his head in that direction. It sounded like looming thunder or the first tremors of an earthquake. Stella looked down on where Moncoya was directing his followers to finish off the heavily outnumbered resistance fighters. Despite the yards between them, he was staring directly back at her. Her intuition told her his expression blazed pure exultation. The noise from the woodland grew louder and more distinct. It was a regular, rhythmic thud. Like giant footsteps looming ever nearer.
It was only when Cal appeared at her side, sliding a protective arm about her shoulders and staring at the hillside with a mixture of anticipation and dread, that Stella knew for sure they were in deep trouble.
Chapter 24
“I need to go to Stella.” Cal shouted the words to Lorcan above the chaos around them. “Sooner or later M
oncoya will try to get to her.”
Lorcan nodded a response. “Keep our star safe.”
“That’s my job.”
And even if it wasn’t, he knew that keeping Stella safe would always come first with him from now on. That was how much she had changed him, changed his priorities. His life. As Cal was closing the ground between the raging battle and the pagoda where he could see Stella’s slender, white-clad figure, two questions troubled him. First, where the hell were the werefalcons and elves? When he and Jethro had left the forest they had been hiding in the foliage, ready to come to the aid of the Iberian sidhes. Moncoya’s sidhes were systematically destroying their resistance counterparts, yet, despite Cal signaling frantically, there was still no sign of the next wave of good guys. The second question was becoming increasingly bothersome. What the bloody hell was that noise?
“Ogres,” he said as he slid an arm around Stella’s shoulders, drawing her close against him.
“Oh. That doesn’t sound good...”
He had no need to explain exactly how far from good it was. Before Stella had finished speaking, the hillside appeared to break apart as dozens of giant figures erupted from the trees. That explained what had happened to the werefalcons and elves. Cal hoped they had managed to get away before the cannibalistic ogres arrived. The thought of any of his friends ending up as a prebattle snack for an ogre was not one he relished.
“Tell me you have a plan.” Jethro kept his eyes fixed on the huge, club-wielding ogres.
“Yes, tell us you do.” Dimitar added his voice to the conversation.
Momentarily distracted, Cal regarded him in surprise. “Where did he come from?”
“No time for that now.” Jethro pointed in the direction of the ogres. “My God, they must be eight foot tall.”
“At least. I’ve seen ogres who are almost ten foot in height, although that’s rare. The biggest ogre is usually the leader. Their intelligence is limited, so the tribe will follow orders from their leader blindly. Moncoya must have struck a deal with the leader of this particular tribe.”
“Can we stop them?” Stella asked. The ogres were getting close to the gardens now. Once the giant figures reached the open ground, it would be a massacre.
“We can try. If we can take out their leader, they’ll begin vying with each other to take over. An ogre leadership contest is nasty and bloody, and it can last for weeks. The good thing for us, is they’ll be too busy fighting each other to do anything else.” He looked down at Stella. Her eyes glowed with love and trust and his heart swelled in response. “This changes our game plan. Can you get Grindan here at once?”
Stella nodded. Moving away from the three men, she held her arms out wide as if in supplication. “Grindan the Faithful. Come to me, my friend. Hidercyme.”
Immediately, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble then shake wildly. The lake waters roiled as though coming to a boil. Cracks appeared in the surface of the grass, swiftly marring the perfect lawns. These joined and became one huge fissure, out of which Grindan and his army arose. Within seconds, the ranks of thousands of mounted warriors were lined up in front of the palace.
The ogres, startled by this new turn of events, halted in their tracks. Clustering like gigantic confused children around the tallest of their number, they seemed to be seeking reassurance from him before continuing. Cal nodded with grim satisfaction. At least they now knew which of the ogres was in charge.
“What are you waiting for?” Moncoya’s impatient tones broke the absolute silence. “Ignore this distraction. Your orders are to kill all of the other necromancers...but bring me the star!”
On hearing those words, Stella gripped Cal’s arm. “Lorcan is still down there.”
“Lorcan can look after himself,” Cal assured her. He hoped to God he was right. He and Lorcan had fought their way out of many a sticky situation, but they had never encountered anything of this magnitude before.
Grindan rode forward, his hand on his heart. “We are yours to command, breguróf steorra.”
“Thank you, Grindan. Kill the ogre leader.” Stella pointed to the towering figure who was reassuring and rallying his followers. Then she swung her arm in the direction of Moncoya. “Then defeat the faerie king.”
The ghostly warrior bowed low. “It is done.”
Grindan rode back to the head of his troops and issued his commands. As the first of the ogres set foot on the lawns, the mounted warriors charged, meeting the giants in a head-on attack. Cal hoped that Lorcan wasn’t somewhere in the middle. The ogres set about clubbing everything around them. The only consolation was that they lacked any sense of judgment and did not have the intellect to distinguish their allies from their enemies. Cal noted, with a certain wry satisfaction, that Moncoya was jumping up and down and screaming with rage as some of his own sidhes and vampire servants were felled in the path of the ogres.
“Do I need to call upon the corpse army?” Stella interrupted his concentration.
“Not yet. Let’s see how this unfolds.” Although some of his men were falling beneath the onslaught, Grindan was systematically driving his warriors toward the towering figure of the ogre leader.
“Good. Many of them have been through enough in their living years. I don’t want to expose them to this carnage unless I have to.”
Just when he didn’t think he could possibly love her any more, Cal felt his heart expand with the strength of his feelings. She really was the star the world had waited for. Even in the midst of this battle, her thoughts were for the souls in her care. He reached for her hand and she returned his clasp gratefully.
“Is this what you saw all those centuries ago when the prophecy was born?” Stella asked.
“What I see is always annoyingly vague.” Cal turned away from the battle momentarily to look at her. “The detail eludes me. I can only hope that this is the great chaos from which peace will be born.”
“Grindan is gaining on the ogre leader,” Stella pointed out.
Because of their limited intelligence, the ogres had not realized Grindan’s intentions and had not thought to protect their leader. The tallest ogre was surrounded by hundreds of mounted warriors before he knew what was happening. Although they looked like toy soldiers in comparison to his bulk, their combined firepower and relentless harrying soon had him howling like a wounded dog. Minutes later, the ground shook as the ogre leader was brought crashing down. Stella turned her face into Cal’s shoulder as Grindan’s men drove their swords into his body over and over until the grass around him was soaked with a pool of dark crimson.
The other ogres stopped in their tracks, turning to look at the still-twitching body of their leader. Instead of mourning his loss, their habitually blank expressions became a combination of pleasure and sly cunning. Their mission was forgotten. With one purpose only, they immediately turned their clubs on each other, raining blows onto those of their tribe who were nearest to them.
“You were right!” Stella exclaimed. “They are fighting among themselves.”
Cal released the breath he had been holding. Taking the ogres out of the fight gave them a better chance but, even with Grindan and his men, it was by no means a foregone conclusion. Moncoya had spent centuries building up his army in readiness for this fight. His sidhe forces were legendary throughout Otherworld for their discipline and viciousness. Speaking of Moncoya... Cal risked a glance in his direction. He was just in time to see the faerie king conferring with Niniane. They were pointing at Stella and Cal.
As Cal watched them, Niniane nodded and then began to make her way across the battlefield. Despite the bloody fight raging around her, she remained unscathed. Nothing harmed her. How could it? She was the most powerful sorceress Otherworld had ever known. And she was heading their way.
* * *
“Take Stella somewhere safe. She won’t get hur
t if you get her away from here. It’s me Niniane wants,” Cal said to Jethro, as the two men watched the sorceress glide up the incline toward them.
“Merlin Caledonius speaks sense.” Dimitar nodded his agreement.
“Merlin Caledonius speaks crap.” Jethro’s voice and expression were scathing. “You think I’m going to abandon you to face her alone?”
“Leave her to me.” Stepping in front of the three men, Stella cut their conversation short. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
As Niniane mounted the incline toward them, Stella moved forward, blocking her path. The sorceress halted. “Out of my way, little necromancer. This does not concern you.”
“Oh, but it does.” In contrast to Niniane’s harsh tones, Stella kept her own voice soft.
Niniane paused, looking from Stella to Cal. Her eyes narrowed into black, soulless slits. “You and he? No, that cannot be. I will not allow it.”
“Too late. Time for you to finally move on.” Stella stood her ground in the face of the icy fury that seized the ancient sorceress in an instant grip.
“Never.” The word resonated with hatred and misery.
Stella braced herself for whatever demonstration of Niniane’s supernatural powers was to come. Instead, she was propelled backward as the sorceress launched herself at her, trying to claw at her face. Remembering Lorcan’s words about using her size to her advantage, Stella hooked her foot around Niniane’s ankle, bringing them both crashing down onto the grass. She was able to use her speed, agility and the element of surprise to her advantage to pin the larger woman down so that she could straddle her, holding her arms at her sides.
Niniane’s shrieks and curses filled the air around them for several minutes.
“You should think about how you look.” Stella shook her head sadly. Lorcan had said Niniane was the vainest being to walk either world. She hoped he was right.
