The Waking Magic (Winter's Blight Book 3)

by M. C. Aquila

  She’s so selfish, Alvey thought with a sniff, changing course out of the way of a line of carts heading west. Not to mention… Shadow Magic. Why does she have Shadow Magic?

  Two things were for certain: Deirdre was a type of Noble or High Faery, given her appearance, developing intellect, and sheer magical power, regardless of her lack of control and lack of horns (though those could just not have grown yet).

  Alvey also knew Deirdre’s primary magic was Shadow Magic, which was extremely rare for Noble Faeries. Magic types were commonly passed down through families, and there were only a couple of bloodlines with the potential for a Shadow primary. And Deirdre didn’t much resemble those families in scent.

  But there was one other option: Alvey’s adoptive parents had traded her for their only child, a girl called Deirdre. Alvey didn’t know why, except that some curse was involved. Father rarely spoke of his blood daughter, and Mother tried to avoid even thinking of her.

  But the child was presumed lost and probably dead. The curse was time sensitive, and after the time of its influence passed, the Court had tried to find the girl. But no one, not her parents nor the prince and his hunters and hounds could find her.

  “’Tis true,” Alvey muttered to herself, “that Deirdre must be dead. They would have found her otherwise. Deirdre is, after all, a common girl’s name, so there must be some explanation. It must be a coincidence. However…”

  She clenched the wheel of her chair hard and pushed onward forcefully. I do not like the idea of Deirdre coming to the court. Methinks… I should simply leave her behind. I have a golden opportunity right now in the chaos of this attack. After all, Deirdre does not really need the Court. She is getting far better at controlling her magic.

  Swallowing down the bitter taste of guilt, Alvey continued rationalizing. And Deirdre did not seem to really want to find her parents either. She was letting off a scent of fear when she spoke of them. ’Tis as if she does not wish to be a faery!

  Yes… if she does not go to the Court, it will be best for everyone.

  “Alvey!”

  Alvey slowed at the familiar, shrill voice and listened as James, followed by another, approached her. She sniffed, fearing the other person was Deirdre—but the smell was different. The other person’s scent was almost exactly like that Delphina’s, except more like James and Iain.

  Could it be?

  “Is that your mother with you, James?” Alvey asked, turning her seat around, sniffing the air again.

  “I—uh—” James let out a small, bemused and slightly disappointed chuckle. “How did you know?”

  Alvey put on her most charming smile and held out her hand toward the woman. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance. You are Kallista?”

  Kallista took her hand gently. “Yes. And you’re Alvey then.”

  “Aye. I am sure your sons have spoken of me, especially Iain?”

  Kallista faltered. “Of course they have.”

  Alvey immediately released Kallista’s hand, her fingers flexing as if rending something angrily. “Iain did not speak of me?” Alvey asked, her voice thin. “Not at all?”

  “Alvey, we need to get out of here,” James cut in. She sensed him reaching for the closest handle of her wheelchair. Only Kallista’s presence stopped Alvey from smacking his hand away.

  “Because of the military? Do not fret; they are most certainly not a force to be feared—”

  She jerked in her seat as the sound of gunfire sounded off far too close for comfort. Gripping the handles of her chair, she sniffed the air; the wind carried the scent of smoke and gunpowder.

  It was well within a mile.

  “Let us leave!” she said, pointing west.

  James let out a small snicker as he began to push her away. “That was the idea.”

  Alvey scowled but held her tongue.

  “Let’s follow this caravan ahead, there,” Kallista ordered from behind James. “They’re moving northwest toward the rendezvous point.”

  “We shall—” Alvey gulped, her throat suddenly dry. “We shall be reuniting with Iain, aye?”

  “Yeah,” James replied. “Also with Deirdre and Cai.”

  “Cai? Why?”

  “We don’t have time for this now,” Kallista cut in, now in front of her. James turned Alvey’s chair a bit sharply, pushing her faster down a drier, more level road.

  She had been gripping her armrests hard for nearly a minute, her arms and hands beginning to ache, when James asked in a low voice, “Are you all right, Alvey?”

  “I am perfectly well,” she replied, though her wavering voice betrayed her.

  “We’re going to be okay.” James lowered his voice further, saying, “Even if they catch up with us, I… I’ve learned some magic.”

  She let out a sharp scoff. “I am certain you did.”

  “No, I really did.”

  In the same low voice, he went on to describe the small explosion he’d made, using an approach to magic that Alvey had never heard of before.

  “Where did you learn all that?” Alvey asked, tilting her head back toward him. Gunfire went off again, and she cringed down.

  “I picked it up around the festival,” he answered, once again changing paths, following his mother, and passing between two wheezing caravans.

  “Nay, someone must have taught you,” Alvey pressed, sitting up straight again.

  “Maybe I’m just a natural.”

  “Absolutely not! ’Tis impossible for you to have simply picked it up and… and do things that I cannot do!”

  “Alvey…” She didn’t have to see to know he was giving her a smug look. “Are you jealous? Because if you are, maybe, uh, I could show you—”

  “Nay, I am not jealous!” She turned away, folding her arms tight, her cheeks flushing as he snickered.

  The army attacking… James using some sort of odd magic… Is the world perhaps coming to an end? She let out a small growl. Of course it would come to an end before I am even married! Oh Iain… Chin trembling, she lowered her arms. You did not even mention me once to your mother? Is that how little you think of me?

  She hung her head and wiped seeping tears away, suddenly feeling that death right now would not be such a terrible thing.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The battalion reached the east entrance to the forested festival grounds, having followed the hilly, winding, ancient roads. Alan sat in the passenger seat of the military truck as Boyd drove behind the large storage container that housed the device—the machine that would soon break the barrier to the Seelie Court.

  It was raining off and on for a while, but the sky had finally settled on a steady downpour, providing cover as the muted grays and greens of the Iron Guard vehicles blended in with the surroundings and the foggy, wet air. However, Alan’s mind was far from the late autumn rain. No, his mind was stuck in summer. Set on Kallista.

  Reaching up, Alan patted the pocket of his uniform jacket absently, feeling the weight of both the winter-white crystal and the wedding band inside—both gifts from the Master. He quickly lowered his hand, grimacing as he realized that his conversation with the Master had done nothing to ease his discomfort. He was still thinking of her—felt he was aware of her presence even.

  Of course, the Master had not been lying to him entirely. Because of the trade years ago, Alan had been able to do as he’d always planned to ensure the Courts were destroyed. He had barely flinched at the thought of Boyd executing Iain. But he had not expected his wife to linger in his thoughts—to make him feel like something was wrong. To haunt him.

  Funny how ghosts in tales are always sallow and dressed in black.

  Where she tread in his mind, it was always summer warm—bright like the colors she wore, like when he’d seen her last. She was wearing that yellow dress she left in, and the sight of her in it used to stun him speechless.

  “I’ll be leaving for a week or two,” Kallista had told him on that morning six years ago.

  He had no
t known then that she was leaving him. That she was going to meet the Master. That she was never going to come back.

  She had stood in the kitchen, wearing that yellow sundress, hands on her hips. “You’ll take good care of the boys, won’t you? I know you will. But you must remember to take care of yourself.”

  “Of course.”

  She’d looked up at him then, her mind working furiously behind her dark brown eyes, searching. “I miss you,” she said, her voice brittle. “I meant that I will miss you while I’m away. I’ll always miss you.”

  “It won’t be for long, love,” he’d answered. The words never carried weight.

  She had cupped his face, tilting her chin to meet his gaze. There was something desperate and searching in her face then—something that made him aware that something was wrong and missing. There was no hiding from her; she looked through him. That discomfort that he felt now had been only a spark then.

  The discomfort had not faded even after she had been gone for a few days, then weeks, and then long after she was supposed to have been back. That was when he had sought out Marko for leads, hoping that knowing where she was and why she left would ease his mind. When he received no answers, he had put her as far from his mind as possible. For a while that had worked.

  But now…

  “General Callaghan.” Boyd grunted, and the truck slowed to a halt on the road. “We’ve stopped. The infantry will be awaiting your orders.”

  The several squadrons under his command were prepping to scour the festival grounds to neutralize any Fae threats they could encounter and to subdue and detain any civilians who gave them trouble. The soldiers, armed with batons and handguns equipped with iron or silver rounds, stood under the shelter of the trees, and they saluted as Alan arrived to brief them.

  “They’ve anticipated our coming here,” Alan informed them. “So we will have to expect that they’ve hidden the faery somewhere and are protecting her.” When a few of the soldiers glanced at each other questioningly, Alan clarified quickly, “These types of festivals are known for being quite rowdy. We’ve heard nothing since we’ve arrived, which gives me the impression they’re clearing out.”

  “What about the civilians, General?” one soldier asked. “Won’t they get caught in the cross fire?”

  Alan nodded solemnly. “The Seelie faeries present will fight to protect King Eadred’s executioner. She is a powerful faery and a key figure in their strategy. Some misguided humans may be on the side of the Fae as well. It may be difficult to discern innocence, but our main focus is to find and capture the faery traitor with as little loss of life as possible.

  “In addition, any Unseelie Fae you encounter may pose an equal threat, even though they have been warned to let us pass because of our conflict with the Summer Court. Faeries—all faeries—are unpredictable, and they are not on humanity’s side.”

  There was a sound of boots scraping across the soaked, muddy gravel as a younger soldier scuffed his feet, clearly uneasy. “General. I don’t mean any disrespect, but are we not giving those Unseelies what they’ve wanted by doing this? Sieging the Summer Court, I mean.”

  “It may feel as if we are doing exactly what the insane Winter King has requested of us, that we have given in to his threats… But this surge against the Seelie Court is a necessary step, albeit a difficult one,” Alan explained calmly. “The Unseelies are disorganized and chaotic. They are not as strong or as disciplined as the Seelies. With both Courts warring against each other and now against humanity itself, we have no choice but to end the threat however we can. The greatest threat to us are the Seelie Fae, and by attacking them first, we will appease the Winter Court. While their monsters are focused on destroying their ancient enemies, we, the Iron Guard, will focus on the task we’ve always been assigned: protecting our people from Fae.”

  Boyd, who had been sullen since their conversation in the woods after the Master had visited, was watching him closely now, his posture upright, that same bold look in his eyes as he used to have—one that told him he believed in this cause with everything he had. The other infantrymen had that same look on their faces, their doubts gone.

  The sensation of wrongness, of discomfort, and any thoughts of Kallista faded from Alan’s mind for the moment. He was so close now; he couldn’t let anything sway him again. He would not falter.

  “With Neo-London as our stronghold, with the fortresses we are occupying,” Alan continued, “the Seelies will learn not to trifle with us again. Once they face justice, we will then wipe the Unseelies from the face of the earth. And humanity will never suffer another Cataclysm.”

  The squadrons, emboldened and assured, left for their assigned areas, some on foot and others in trucks and a few in tanks with the turrets traversed to a nonthreatening position. The soldiers in tanks were heading to the usual exits of the grounds to keep anyone from fleeing. Alan walked to the large vehicle housing the machine, where the lead engineer, Levi, was waiting for him.

  The back doors of the truck, enforced with steel and iron, were open, revealing metal steps to the raised platform. There was a small makeshift laboratory inside, almost mirroring the one in the Iron Architects department in Neo-London, where Levi’s experiments on technology and magic, with Alan’s funding and support, had taken place. Stark white, cold, and metal, thrumming with technology—the room was truly a captive faerie’s nightmare.

  The spiderlike machine was bolted to the metal floor for stability, and there was a chair beside it. In testing, they had used a hospital bed for transporting the faerie subjects but had since upgraded to a more durable option that would ensure no faery—no matter how powerful—could escape the iron restraints attached.

  As Alan strode up the steps and into the narrow room, Levi, who had been examining the machine and checking items off a sheet of paper, looked up to greet him. His skin was clammy and sweating as usual, as though he was perpetually nervous. But perhaps that was only when he was around the general.

  Alan closed the doors and fastened them behind him, giving them privacy.

  “I was just finishing the final tests, and some of my colleagues discovered these delightful little Flower faeries hovering about in the woods.” Levi gestured to the glass wall ahead of them, behind which creatures the size of moths flittered around, their movements jerky and fearful. “Our biologists are keen to study some samples later on—”

  “Is the machine in working order?” Alan asked.

  Levi’s smile faded slightly, but then he recovered, pushing his glasses up as they drooped down his nose. “It certainly is—”

  “Show me how to operate it,” Alan demanded.

  That would be the answer, surely. That would rid him of everything holding him back, if he could be the one to destroy Deirdre. She had somehow caused his most loyal soldier, his own firstborn son, to desert his army and defy him. She had stolen James away, putting the boy and the deal he had made with the Master in danger.

  It’s her. She’s what’s wrong.

  Levi was staring at him when he snapped out of his thoughts. Alan met his gaze with a hard look that made the man jolt.

  “General Callaghan,” Levi began hesitantly, “I should be the one to operate the device. My technicians and I are the only ones who know exactly how to work it—”

  “I am certain you will try your very best to teach me in the little time we have.” Alan gestured to the machine, walking over to it.

  With a resigned sigh, Levi got to work. After he summarized the basics in as simple terms as he could manage, Levi began to situate the machine so it was facing the glass with the faery creatures buzzing behind it.

  “Now that I’ve shown you the basics of draining the plasma and energy, I can demonstrate just how it will work once the plasma is inside it and redirected.” He squinted at Alan, saying, “I suggest you simply subdue them; they are still useful for my research. A little power released from the device will knock the little things unconscious…”

  Ala
n took over the controls from Levi. He focused the device on the faeries behind the glass. It was over in a flash of light and a surge of electric, thrumming energy—a second. There was little left of them; fragments and flakes of their petal-gossamer bodies floated, charred as ash, to the floor behind the glass. Ones who had escaped the blast of energy lie twitching on the ground.

  The whites of Levi’s eyes shone whiter than ever.

  “Thank you for the lesson.” Alan walked to the doors and opened them. “Now, when I deliver the faery to the truck shortly, I expect you to stay out of my way.”

  Levi sucked in a breath, pursed his lips, but did not argue. Before he left the truck, he said, “You seem confident, General, that this faery is a Noble. What makes you so sure? Without the proper tests, there is no way to know for certain. You seem very set on this faery containing the energy we need.”

  “If I were judging by appearance alone, it is clear from her human looks that she possesses powerful magic,” Alan said. “In my experience, the more human-looking the Fae, the more potent the magic. Take the Winter Queen, for example.”

  Levi let out an anxious laugh. “You’re… you’re joking, aren’t you? No one’s ever seen the Winter Queen.”

  “Well, she doesn’t have horns, if that’s what you were picturing.” Alan smiled wryly, then continued, “Furthermore, one of my soldiers reported to me firsthand of Deirdre’s power. She caused an earthquake and a cave-in, and she killed a highly dangerous Unseelie dwarf that had been causing trouble for the Iron Guard for years in the Forest Caves.

  “Beyond all that evidence, I do not need any tests to know what kind of creature she is.” Alan looked Levi in the eyes as the man edged to the steps outside. “It is one thing to study Fae in a lab. It is entirely different to see the truth of them and their magic on the battlefield or in the aftermath of the Cataclysm. After living through that, you learn to rely on your instincts rather than some scientific test.”