by Zoe Parker
“There’s no way to cut the Feyrie out, you asshole. I can’t believe you fucking made this thing. I should’ve killed you when you betrayed me the first time you asshole. Not left you alive to create something that has fucked us all.” She stands up and stomps off, imagining killing him a hundred different ways.
Turning to Jameson I ask, “If her Feyrie nature is removed, the collar will come off?” He nods and looks to Iza disappearing over the sand, worry lining his face. “Grab the child,” I order him. I fear that if I touch him, I’ll kill him and possession or not, she won’t forgive me for that. Following in Iza’s wake I can’t help but be haunted by the story Life told me about the brain. Is there some significance to it that the fucker didn’t tell me?
When I get to camp, everyone is in an uproar, they thought Iza was dead and now she’s standing in front of them, wearing the collar. To them it’s almost as bad. They can’t feel her anymore, can’t feel that unified connection to the Dark that her presence gave them. Several of them want to ask questions, but no one has been brave enough to ask her yet. Smart of them. They’ll get nothing but a foot to the ass for asking.
Iza is sitting in a fold out chair, staring into the fire, her eyes alive with her inner turmoil.
“Since that idiot made the collar, can’t he take the thing off?” Auryn demands, pacing on the other side of the fire. Iza shakes her head and remains silent. I try to creep into her thoughts but the Magiks in the collar prevents me.
What is this new hell?
Pushing back against it with force, I try to get past it. Again I’m repelled. Over and over I hit it and nothing happens. She grimaces and runs a hand along her forehead; instantly I stop. I’m causing her pain for no reason. I won’t get past the Magiks. I might go kill Jameson myself. The fucking collar has cut me off from her.
A fiend appears beside her and bashes itself against the collar, to no avail.. At least she still has the connection to them, but that’s because it didn’t come from the Feyrie side of her. That came from our connection that’s slightly muted but still very much there; I just can’t get into her mind. She holds out her hand and the fiend armor trickles out to cover her arm.
“Well, there’s this anyhow,” she says and shakes her hand as it disappears. She extends her claws and makes a small cut across the top of her arm. It doesn’t heal instantly. In fact, it doesn’t heal at all. The healing part did come from her Feyrie side. “That’s a problem,” she muses and leans back in the chair with blood dripping down her arm.
“What do I do with him?” Jameson asks, walking into the camp with an unconscious Knox in his arms. Iza doesn’t even look towards them and for once I can’t read her face or body language.
“Lock him in the back of the van for now. It’s an old police van and still has the cage in it,” Auryn says, taking charge when Iza remains quiet. She turns back to Iza. “What are we going to do now?”
She looks up and in her eyes I see emptiness. “We still fight, nothing will change that Auryn,” Iza answers. Auryn nods her head and motions for people to follow her away from the fire. She’s giving Iza space and time to absorb this change in circumstance.
“Iza, you’ll need to be more cautious.” I’ve never been one to give her platitudes and I won’t start now. Especially now.
“I know,” is her simple reply. Even without the Feyrie part of her, she’ll still do incredible damage, but she’ll also take incredible damage. Light wasn’t wrong, this is my fault. I should’ve known that Light would use someone she has a weakness for. I foolishly thought he couldn’t get to her any longer.
She stands and without looking at me says, “I’m going to take a nap.”
Watching her look so defeated pulls at me, and I can’t let that look remain. I’ve done it her way for a while, now it's time to do it my way. I turn towards where Auryn and the others have gathered. Losing or not, we’re going to take down as many of them as we can beforehand.
And I’m going to go after Light whether I’ll win or not.
18
The force camped at the foot of the small hill doesn’t make me feel any better about the outcome of this war. This is only half the army they’ve transported here—that we know of. The rest are a day behind and escorting the Light Fey King himself, with his little tagalong prick, the Guide. This particular group has already engaged the military on several fronts and swept through them like a hot knife through butter. Leaving us to deal with them and we still need to go through these guys in order to be prepared for the second wave. If we wait until they combine, the future is grim to say the least.
Behind me stand the Feyrie, armed and ready to unleash upon the Schoth below us, and if necessary, go to their own deaths. Behind them, in quiet formations are the humans who—despite my cautioning—have decided to stand with us as well. With the help of Jarvis, they improvised on the plastic guns and now have a multitude of usable weapons at their disposal. Including some of the grenades that Jameson made. Unfortunately the supplies to make them were limited and we’ve only got a few precious crates to use. I also asked him if a collar would work on the Light King. Phobe was the one who informed me that other than a slight discomfort, it would have no impact on him.
That sucks too. Collaring him was an idea that gave me some hope.
Jameson and some of the other Magiks users, provided the humans with some temporary protections against Light Magiks, enchanting those that they could to make them temporarily more than human. It’s not much, but it’ll help them survive longer and fight harder. There are thousands of them but only a few hundred are spelled—but it's better than nothing.
The Feyrie, as strong as some of us—no, them—are, will go in first and hopefully do enough damage for the humans to play clean up and retreat before the second half gets here. I’ve got to fight at half-power and I’m not entirely sure of everything I have left to use.
Fist clenched, I turn and head back towards our small camp. I’m still as physically strong as I was, but my healing is shit. It’s fast enough I can survive shallow wounds but anything life threatening and I’m toast. Annoyed with the cause of this problem, I tug on it, pulling even when it starts to hurt. At the verge of inflicting severe pain I finally stop. There’s no point in it, but I can’t help myself. My body is pushing for it to be removed. The skin underneath it is one big open wound from where the Light Magiks are constantly burning me, and nothing soothes it. Arista tried to heal it, to no avail. She couldn’t even heal the small, self inflicted cut on my arm.
One good hit from the Guide or Light, I’m out of the fight, possibly permanently.
My eyes drift to Phobe, standing at the edge of the clearing, watching me. The amulet around his neck shines like a beacon to me and I send a silent thank you out into the cosmos to Life for that small bit of help. It’ll keep Phobe safe and potentially be the deciding factor in the next few hours.
His face grows colder as he looks back the direction I came from. Since the collar was put on, we can’t communicate telepathically anymore. It blocks him from reading my mind as well. Once upon a time, hell even at times now, I’ve wanted privacy from his all seeing eyes, but I also don’t like having it forced beyond my control either. The good thing is, the bond between us is untouched. I feel him as potently as I did before this stupid noose was put around my neck.
Jarvis strolls up to me, forcing my attention off the dark man watching me.
“When are we planning on moving on them?” he asks, his hands clasped behind his back, looking for all the world like a man in charge. Of the humans, he mostly is. Him and I butted heads once when we first met up and he learned the hard way that he has no say over my people or me. I emphatically reminded him that we do what the fuck we want.
“Soon. They know we’re here and if we don’t move first, they will. That will give them too much of an advantage,” I answer, looking at Phobe once again. He nods. “We go in first with you bringing up the rear. Don’t engage them—play defense.”
“See you on the field,” he says, turning and immediately calling out orders.
I turn to face the Feyrie and find them all standing, silent and waiting for me.
“Drop your glamour. Let this world see what—and who—defends them,” I say quietly. We will no longer hide from their eyes. Satisfaction and pride slides through me when some of the humans gasp in shock at seeing them in their true forms for the first time. Turning slightly to the military assembled, watching almost as stoically as the Feyrie, I say, “We monsters fight for this world, not because we have to, but because you need us to. After this is over, remember that. Remember the ones who will bleed for you.”
For several tense seconds, there’s no sound then the first soldier salutes me. In a cascade of motion, their hands all raise as they stand there, accepting what’s to come. “SIR, YES SIR,” they call out in unison. That’s pretty nifty.
Turning back to the Feyrie I open my mouth to speak but Phobe steps in front of me. This is different. Knowing he knows more about this shit than I do, I step back and allow him to say what he wants to. It’s not often he speaks to anyone but me, so this must be important.
“Dragons, Nightmares and anything else large—massive sweeps, take out as many as you can in one blow. Don’t hold back, give them everything you have, use every weapon at your disposal. We don’t need prisoners, we need corpses. Mages, shield the heavy infantry, get them as close to the elementalists as possible. Those are the ones that can do the most damage and are the most damaging to the humans. Healers, stay in back—in front of the human line. You only heal from a distance. Any injured need to be pushed to the back towards them. The rest of you, straight line to the spell casters that are being protected in the back, we need to take them out as soon as possible. Use the grenades ONLY on the casters.” Each order is clipped and cold, there’s no patience for argument in his tone. Checking him out, because wow, how can I not, I watch his shadows creeping in and out of his skin. He’s standing there in nothing more than a shirt and jeans, yet has more presence than anyone else here, and everyone—even Jarvis—is staring at him in rapt attention.
“Where will you and Iza be?” Auryn asks, not because she thinks we won’t be fighting but because she’s now as suspicious as I am about his plans.
“Coming from the back. We’ll meet you in the middle.”
How exactly does he plan to get us to the back? Great shadowy wings unfurl from his back as he grows in size. Oh, that’s how. Turning to me with eyes of fire he takes two steps and grabs me, before leaping into the sky and moving us away from the Feyrie.
Looking up into his contorted face, full of teeth and death, I ask, “Where were you hiding this gem?”
“I don’t know,” he answers without looking down at me. A lost memory perhaps? Or was this him in the beginning?
Taking us high into the sky, we pass above the shield the Schoth have erected above themselves. As I look down at the thousands of soldiers and mages, a shiver of apprehension goes through me. Phobe’s arms tighten on me as he tucks his wings, diving straight down. My eyes water from the force of the wind. If this were a different time and place, I’d have whooped in joy. Instead, I remain silent and grab a handful of his clothing, torn when he unfurled his shadowy wings, for balance. Landing a lot more softly than I expect, he sets me on my feet right as I hear the horn go off in the Schoth camp. They see our people moving down the hill.
“No going back now, huh?” I semi-tease. Phobe grabs my shoulders and kisses me hard before turning and hitting the shield with his fist. Light Magiks crackles and snaps around the crack that instantly appears; Phobe isn’t going for finesse this time around. He hits it again and pieces of it fall inwards, like broken glass.
Behind the shield, the camp is on full alert, and a group of them head towards us, while the rest peel off towards the larger force of Feyrie. With a feral smile, Phobe pushes hard and breaks through the hole in the shield. Inky blackness seeps out of him in waves. I’ve never seen this many before and it’s a sight to behold. The forlorn roar in challenge, and as their combined might hit the first group of mages, our attackers disappear into the shadowy maw of the forlorn maw with barely a peep.
Whoa. Pulling myself out of my temporary stupor, I follow in Phobe's wake, and run towards another group coming at us. Leaping, I take down the shocked Schoth as quickly as I can reach them. As Light Magiks fly towards me, shadows leap up to intercept it before it touches me. Phobe is protecting my back, damn multitasker.
Phobe leads the way as a one man killing machine. Dozens of Schoth disappear in big gulps of darkness. As he absorbs them, he grows stronger; as he grows stronger, he kills more quickly. I merely pick off the stragglers. Body after body, scream after scream, we work in tandem to take down as many Schoth as we can while heading towards the main force of mages that have already engaged the other Feyrie.
Taking a chance to glance at our forces I see a massive spider tossing out swaths of webbing to entrap people. Licar, a gigantic bear finishes them off. To the left, Schoth infantry fly into the air as Adriem swings his massive head. Dragon’s breath of fire and ice, rain down onto the Schoth in waves of death. That’s not counting the other Feyrie who are tearing through the infantry like the scary monsters they are.
In front of me, Phobe grunts as several mages wearing Light’s amulets, chain-cast spells at him. With a low growl he swings out with his right arm and pushes back the spells. Darkness rears up and devours the Magiks as he walks unerringly towards them. He’s totally got this; all they managed to do was irritate him. Taking a deep breath, I turn and guard his back against the endless waves of Schoth.
The battle rages on for several hours until, after what feels like an eternity, the last Schoth falls. Covered in blood and other gore I stop and stand, breathing heavily, to survey the field. Sadly, several dozen Feyrie fell during the battle; their bodies are already being gathered by other Feyrie and taken to the back. Without my connection to them, I’m not sure how many we lost, but I know by sight some of those I see on the ground, unmoving. Carefully, I pick my way over the mounds of dead bodies until I find each one of them.
Among the first ones I get to is Ryan, the beta shifter. His green eyes are clouded and stare up at nothing, his chest torn open, exposing his ribs and chest bone. He didn’t go down without a fight. At least six dead Schoth surround him, their bodies holding the marks of his claws that ended their lives. A heroic death is his final repentance for all that he did to his own kind. I bend and close his eyes, giving him the last dignity in death that I can.
The next one is Alagard. My eyes burn when I see him, but I hold back the tears. He’s in his natural dragon form, his neck torn open and his eyes gone. In his open mouth lay the body of a gryphon, with more laying nearby. Gryphons are the natural enemies of dragons and Alagard did something most dragons could not. He took the fucking things out with him, alone. Good for him. His death is a blow to Feyrie and will be noticed. I pat the scales of his neck and pick up a loose one to take with me.
Still, I turn and keep walking; there are more dead to say goodbye to.
In total we lost a hundred and twenty souls to the Schoth, and have another forty-three injured severely enough that they won’t be fighting again anytime soon. Compared to how many Schoth we fought, and defeated, it’s a small number of casualties. They will need to be mourned properly when this is done.
Michael walks towards me, covered in blood, his clothes torn and even singed in some places, but he’s alive and that’s good enough for me. It’s also a testament to how strong he is, he’s proven himself beyond a shadow of a doubt. That doesn’t mean I approve of him being here, it simply means I can’t win an argument about it.
Exhausted, I make my way over to where Auryn and Licar are moving the dead Feyrie and arranging them in a line until they can be moved to the Sidhe. The desire to sit and let my more fragile body rest is enough motivation for me to start helping others who are carrying the Schoth
bodies to pile in two separate piles. One is for burning while the other is for… other things.
Another battle will be fought here tomorrow and we need the field open.
Jarvis joins me at one of the burning piles of bodies. He’s dirty and pale faced but still intact.
“We didn’t lose a single human life today because of you, but we know that you lost some of your own. After this war is over with, we’d like to erect a memorial to them.” Humans and their memorials. Alagard would get a kick out of it.
“That’s only half the army, don’t celebrate victory yet,” Phobe says coming to stand beside me. “The second half is the more dangerous one. Consider this practice.” Phobe isn’t one to mince words and I can’t criticize him for it. I was considering saying something similar. Probably ruder.
Jarvis contemplates Phobe with a thoroughness one only uses to size up something that scares you. I don’t blame him, I saw what Phobe can really do for the first time—that was beyond scary and I’ve seen some shit in my life. I had an idea of what he was capable of, and while the bloodthirsty part of me completely appreciates it—well, all of me does, seeing Phobe unleashed was a glorious experience
The humans are probably not appreciating his power in quite the same way. A single man who can take down thousands of Schoth, single handedly—yeah, that’d scare most people. Even some of the Feyrie are giving him a wide berth. I won’t point out to them that he probably saved most of their lives being what he is and they should be thankful. Now isn’t the time.
“Everyone needs to eat, and what some of them eat will disturb you. It’s best if you take your men and women off the field and get them cleaned up and rested for tomorrow when the rest of the Schoth get here,” I say, turning to head towards the small pond I saw not too far away. I need to wash the blood off and take a minute to gather my composure and sneak a rest. I don’t want them to see how tired I am; it’ll fuck them up.
