“Still. You need to slow down. We can walk just as easily.”
She shook her head gravely. “We don’t have the time. I found Simith.”
Jessa’s heart leapt. “Where?”
“About a mile west.” She pointed in the same direction where Simith’s blade had pulled on Jessa’s instincts.
“That’s all? He’s so close,” Katie grinned. “We can pick him up and head for the doorway before the night is out.”
“Getting there isn’t the problem. It’s getting him out. When I scouted around, I discovered him in the middle of a duel of some kind with the troll king.”
“That can’t be,” Jessa said. “He was going to discuss peace with their leader. Why would he be fighting him?”
“Oath-breaking is the word going around the spectators. It sounds like a fight to the death.” Relle’s expression was grave. “He’s not doing great either. When I left, he was bleeding all over the ground.”
A chill washed over her. “He must have been forced into it. Maybe the fairies captured him when he got back. He wouldn’t do this.”
“Why do you sound so sure?” Katie lifted a brow. “You just met him yesterday night.”
Jessa averted her gaze. “Yes, but I…I just know.”
She knew because she’d spent hours alongside Simith in her sleep, sharing his experiences, his friendships, his losses. She only just met him, but he was no longer a stranger. Jessa didn’t know how to explain how real the memories she saw in her dreams felt.
“There’s something else you need to know,” Relle said, pulling their attention back to the matter at hand. “I rushed back when I saw the fairy legion marching away from their camp. I followed along for a bit to listen in. The fairies are using the fight as a distraction. They left on a circuitous route that will lead to where the trolls are camped. According to them, the legion greatly outnumbers the trolls. Once the king wins and goes back to camp, they’ll launch a surprise attack. After that…”
She didn’t fill in the rest, but she didn’t have to. The trolls would be slaughtered.
Katie ran a hand over her face. “These fairy people are clever cheaters, aren’t they?”
Cold sweat formed on Jessa’s palms. They had to rescue Simith, but how could they stand by and do nothing while the fairies annihilated the trolls like this? And if the trolls discovered they’d been led into a trap, they likely assume Simith was part of the plot. That would be the end of any peace between their people, and since the fairies intended to begin all of it upon Simith’s defeat, it would also be the end of his life—and hers too. They had to get him out of that arena. But how? They couldn’t simply show up and drag him away.
Jessa rotated Simith’s knife between her fingers. “Maybe we can use this information to our advantage.”
Relle’s brows went up. “How so?”
“Simith never broke any oaths. That has to be some mischief of the fairies so they could arrange this ambush. We need to tell the trolls that Simith was attacked on his way to meet them. If they knew this fight was just a setup to trap their army, they might let him go.”
Relle considered. “He’s fought in this war a long time, hasn’t he? They might not let him go either way.”
Simith’s memories flashed in her thoughts. He wasn’t just an enemy fighter to the trolls, but a notorious one. They might not care whether he was innocent of oath-breaking or not.
“We have to try.” She sheathed his knife. “There aren’t other options.”
Katie held up a hand. “I hate to ruin a decent sounding plan, but we’re dressed like bunnies, here. I can barely take myself seriously looking like this. Who’s going to believe us?”
Jessa blew out a breath. A frustrated lump formed in her throat. Katie was right. No one would take their word on this.
She stilled. One person might.
“Come on,” she said, starting forward. “I know someone who will help.”
She couldn’t find Rimthea anywhere.
When they’d neared the arena, they left the horses behind and made the rest of the way on foot. By the torches lining one side and the shadows banking the other, it was clear which end belonged to the trolls.
Reaching the back of the fairy crowd, they decided to split up to search more quickly. Jessa was grateful the bellowing spectators clustered around the stone ring blocked her view of the fight. She smelled blood on the air. They had to find Rim and relay this information. If anyone knew how to use it to free Simith, it was her.
“What does she look like?” Relle asked before they separated.
“She has bright blond hair,” Jessa told them. “White-blond more than yellow, and dark eyes.”
“I’m supposed to see dark eyes at night?” Katie muttered.
Jessa dredged up more description. “She’ll have a bow with her, hooked over her shoulder, and she has a really intimidating glare when she spots something out of the ordinary.”
Relle snorted. “Three pookas wandering around here will definitely be that.”
Katie squinted at her. “How do you know this pixie-girl?”
“She’s Simith’s best friend. His sister, really and...” It struck her suddenly that Rimthea didn’t know her. Jessa had seen her with such frequency and familiarity through Simith’s memories, she’d nearly forgotten this was someone she’d never met. Katie eyed her strangely. Jessa struggled for a neutral expression. “She’ll be suspicious, but if we tell her it’s for Simith’s sake, she’ll hear us out.”
“You’re sure?”
“I can’t think of anyone else we can trust.”
Dividing the area into thirds, they parted. Jessa searched the middle section, scanning the faces for the one she knew. Every minute she couldn’t find her, every cheer and curse from the crowd, made her stomach turn with apprehension. Katie and Relle were already making their way back to her from their ends. She caught the eye of each in turn, and they shook their heads. Desperation gnawed at her. Deciding to take the risk, she wormed her way through the tense crowd to see if she might find Rim somewhere toward the front.
She didn’t. Instead, Jessa found a clear view of the arena. The sight pulled a small cry from her throat.
Simith, dressed in armor as white as summer clouds, struggled to keep his sword and shield up against a fearsome troll. Blood from multiple cuts painted his pale leather in streaks of scarlet. The troll advanced on him, a terrifying spectacle as he struck hard with his hatchet. Simith blocked it with his shield, pushing forward with a return thrust that seemed clumsy at best. Jessa squinted in confusion. She’d seen him perform that move in his memories. Even injured, it was always much faster and at an angle that should’ve gotten under the troll’s guard. Maybe he was worse than she realized. His hair was damp with sweat, and he favored his left side. Yet, his eyes seemed clear when he faced her direction. And the troll king, his lips were moving. Posturing, or something else? Simith gave no reply, but his gaze shone with urgency and determination, not malice. She’d seen that look in the greenhouse. A plan at work—if he could hold out long enough.
She rushed back into the crowd, pushing her way out again. Katie and Relle waited for her when she emerged.
“Anything?” she asked them.
Relle shook her head. “No one by that description. In fact, we didn’t find any pixies here at all.”
“None?”
“Maybe they were all deployed.”
Or the fairies didn’t trust them after Simith’s betrayal. Helm Firo had said the pixies might question the fairies’ plans if they knew he’d been trying to negotiate peace. Maybe the pixies didn’t even know he was alive.
She put a hand to her brow. “Rimthea must be with the rest of them.”
Relle took them each by the arm. “Keep moving. We can’t stand around here.”
She drew them outside the reach of the torchlight. Jessa glanced over her shoulder. Some of the fairies at the back sent far too curious glances their direction. Relle blew a quick
breath toward them, like extinguishing a candle. The fairies’ expressions blanked. They turned back around.
“Relle,” Katie whispered furiously. “Knock that off. They were barely interested in us.”
“And now they’re not interested at all. They won’t even remember seeing us.” She wiped at her nose, sniffing. Red dotted her fingers.
Katie blanched. “Relle…”
“It’s nothing.”
“Blood coming out of your nose is the opposite of nothing.”
“It doesn’t matter. We can’t risk being discovered.” She turned to Jessa before Katie could say more. “What’s our plan now?”
The crowd gave a sudden hiss, shouting for Simith to get up, to strike back. She touched her stomach, trying not to be sick. How long before that armor turned completely red? How long before he fell for good, and her with him?
“There’s no one to help us.” Jessa squared her shoulders. “I’m going to warn the trolls myself.”
Katie grabbed her arm before she could move. “You’re not going over there by yourself. What if trolls eat pookas? You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“He’s all by himself in there and he’s running out of time. We can’t give up.” Panic cracked her voice. “I have to do something.”
“We’re not giving up.” Katie took her firmly by the shoulders, her eyes imploring. “But you’re not doing this without us, okay? You’re not alone. For a year and a half, I’ve been trying to show you that, but now I’m telling you. You are not alone, Jessa. Let us help you. Please. Let us in.”
Heat built behind her eyes. Her heart ached. She didn’t want to let anyone in, didn’t Katie understand? It was safer to drift rootless on the current rather than reaching for a shore that might be torn away in another storm. Yet, looking at her friend, her dear friend who’d stayed by her side through the worst moments of her life, who braved this terrifying world of magic for her, Jessa realized she had to. If she couldn’t do this, if she didn’t extend her trust, she would lose this friendship. She would lose herself and be caught forever in the stranglehold of grief.
“Okay.” With a knot of fear tightening her insides, she clasped Katie’s hands, squeezing hard, and grabbed onto the shore. “We go together.”
Chapter Seven
He could’ve sworn he saw a pooka in the crowd.
Simith swiped at his brow, but when he looked again, it was gone. Perhaps he was worse off than he thought. What would a pooka be doing here?
"I grow tired of this, Sun Fury,” Drokeh grated out. “And I think neither of us has time for delay. You're growing weaker." He advanced. "Slower. It can't be from the scratches I've dealt you despite your convincing performance.” Anger rose in his voice as he spoke. “You warn of a trap, but these vague scrawls in the mud don’t tell me where it will spring."
With a roar, he swung his hatchet in a swift stroke. It cracked the rim of Simith’s shield. He nearly dropped it, wheeling backward to get out of the king’s reach.
He shared Drokeh’s frustration. What a torment this was. Despite the inexplicable boost of energy a few minutes ago, his strength flagged anew, and the words he drew in the mud weren’t enough. The closer the moon came to setting, the weaker he became. He sensed the end of his remaining time, and hope, coming like the final sands draining down an hourglass. Already his body leaned into the strikes, lagging his footwork, making his arm sag when a blow was imminent. The commands on his true name made his very flesh yearn for the fatal wound.
“There is a way out of this, pixie.” Drokeh circled him. “A way to free you from the geas, if you are bold enough.” His lips lifted on one side in a smirk. “But for that, you’ll have to trust me.”
Trust him. Simith hesitated. His thoughts spun toward his past, to the flames that had devoured his brother and his home. He had fought so many battles since then. Always, the trolls stood as an enemy opposite him. Now, their king asked for his trust. He might as well have turned the world upside down. Simith didn't know if he had any trust left in him.
"The geas hides your voice but I know your thoughts, Sun Fury, for they are mine too." He shook his head, as though he recognized the absurdity of his own request. "If it were my choice, I would never have agreed to that first peace meeting you petitioned. After all you have done, I had no interest in your words.”
Stunned, Simith movements halted. He’d been shocked himself when King Drokeh accepted his request. But if he hadn’t wanted to, what caused him to agree? Drokeh prodded him forward with a slash of his dagger.
“I made a promise,” the king went on as if he indeed knew Simith’s thoughts. “Two years past, I ran afoul of one of your little scouts. I was reckless after one of the more gruesome victories you secured.” He curled his lip at him. “I left camp alone to think. Clever quiet she was in those trees. By the time I saw her, she had the arrow trained on my unshielded heart."
A tremor of premonition ran through Simith’s limbs. Two years ago? A scout?
Drokeh feinted with hatchet and blade, stepping close and drawing back. “Instead of taking my life, she extracted an oath. She would let me live if I swore to hear out any offer of peace made to me, no matter the source.” He laughed, a harsh, scraping sound. “I wanted to refuse, certain she only played with me. But then she said, ‘Don’t let the blade wield you. It’s your hand on the hilt.’”
Simith stopped. It felt as though his heart did too. Rimthea had once said those same words to him.
Drokeh came in hard. Simith brought up his blade in time to meet the troll king’s hatchet. His shield blocked the long dagger. They stood, locked together.
“As you can guess, I gave my oath.” The king’s lamplight eyes burned into his. “If I’d known that offer would come from you, I might have preferred death. We are each here for our own reasons and your silence is intolerable. You must trust me to free you from this geas, or the fairies will triumph over us all.”
Rim’s voice echoed in his head.
It’s your hand on the hilt. Your choice. Your will.
It can’t have been anyone else Drokeh met in those woods. That he should hear her words in this place, at the edge of his demise, seemed impossible. He glanced up at the stars. She was gone, yet she had brought them all to this moment.
“Give me some sign you agree,” Drokeh said. “I will do the rest.”
He’d made the mistake of ignoring her once. He would not make it again. In answer, Simith let his shield droop in his grasp. Drokeh took the opening, wrenching it off his arm and hurling it away. The troll king wrapped his great fist high on Simith’s throat and lifted him off his feet. Pressure exploded behind Simith’s eyes and blood pounded in his ears. He could get no air, his windpipe squeezed shut. His true name forced his fingers to open, dropping his sword to the ground. Around them, the crowd roared.
Toward the lightless end of the trolls’ side of the arena, he glimpsed a torch flare to life. It scattered shadows, outlining a trio of silhouettes. Their shape was not that of trolls. A commotion of voices followed, but Simith couldn’t decipher them. His ears felt stuffed with cotton.
Drokeh released his broad blade, and from behind the circle of armor over his chest he drew an onyx spike the length of his palm. It was thicker at one end, gliding down to a vicious point. The darkness seemed to swirl within its narrow depths, a spinning galaxy of shadow-stars. Simith had never seen a twilight diamond shaped like this before.
“The only way to free you,” Drokeh raised it high, “is with your death.”
He plunged the spike into Simith’s throat. A blinding shock of pain vibrated through his body. His mouth fell open. His vision blurred. In the distance, he thought he heard his name screamed in anguish.
The command on his true name melted away, returning his will to him. Simith hands grasped the troll king’s arm, struggling. His mind swam. Had he been tricked? Had the other’s intention been to kill him all along?
“Hold still, pixie,” Drokeh barked at him
, moving the spike in his flesh like a needle seeking its stitch. “It’ll slip away from me if you keep wiggling about.”
Simith didn’t understand. The wound felt strange. His skin tingled, pinpricks cascading from heel to scalp. Magic pulsed in his throat, undulating softly, as though he’d swallowed a draught of dark silk.
Simith blinked hard. He fought to stay conscious. Air. He needed air.
The bellows from the crowd had fallen to murmurs of confusion. He couldn’t see the triad, but they had to know something was amiss. They would act soon.
Drokeh’s eyes narrowed. “There it is. Take hold of the shard and open your mouth.”
He complied, transferring his hand from the king’s arm to the twilight diamond’s cool length. Simith jolted in surprise when Drokeh jammed his fingers into his mouth. He tried to hold still. His eyes watered. Claws scraped the back of his throat.
“I have it.” Drokeh huffed in triumph.
He retracted his hand. Black coated his fingers like ink. Pinched between them shimmered the bright spark of the geas. He flicked it away, its light extinguishing long before it landed. Lowering Simith to his feet, Drokeh held him steady with a grip on his shoulder and jerked the spike from his throat. Simith’s legs nearly went out from under him. Black ichor drained from his mouth as the wound closed behind the diamond’s departure. He choked and spat out the geas’ remnants, and before anything more could prevent him, he spoke.
“The legion,” he managed in a shredded voice, “was sent to surround your army at its camp. The fight…just a lure to bring you here.”
“An ambush?” Drokeh’s grip tightened. “And your kind joined them?”
“Controlled,” he rasped, “with our true names.”
Wayward Magic Page 67
