by M. C. Aquila
Just outside, Boyd and two other soldiers were waiting with one of the tanks, which looked almost like a dark, bulky creature that was dripping with rain. It took four soldiers to operate the weapon—one soldier was already inside the metal beast to drive it. Boyd would traverse the turret while the other soldier would load the ammunition, and Alan would command them from the turret basket and operate one of the two machine guns if needed.
The heavy metal hatch closed, and the tank drove out into the open field, an armed squadron following behind.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Last one!” Deirdre pulled the silver bell off the tree, dangling from the branch beside it. Hauling herself up to sit on the damp branch, she slipped the bell into her pack, shut it closed, and then shimmied down the tree, the many large limbs making the descent easy.
Her hands were sore and had some splinters, but she hardly noticed. There were twenty trees total, and she’d raced through the forest from east to west, south to north. A few minutes earlier, she had retrieved the bell from the westernmost tree, where the steady, hasty stream of evacuation had slowed her down somewhat. She had planned for this to be the last bell, but when she double-checked her map, she realized she’d forgotten one near the central tree; it was so close, the note for the center tree had overlapped it.
So she had raced back through the empty festival ground. The booths and chairs were still out; as she climbed down the tree now, she could glimpse in the distance the sea of chairs, dais, and the altar left over from the wedding. But there was no sign of life. Earlier people had stacked furniture, odds and ends, and even bags of rubbish as makeshift barricades, but many things were left in the haste to escape.
Now as she landed, she heard the steady grinding, marching, and snapping of wood made by the military approaching from the east. She had not heard or seen any sign of the spiders yet, even now as she looked one last time toward the southern woods.
Maybe the spiders won’t come in time…
She yelped and crouched as gunfire went off, much too close, from the east. Peering around the tree, she saw movement in the woods. It was too far to make out any distinct shapes but close enough to hear the sound of combat. Someone let out a horrible, pained scream, chilling her to her bone and freezing her in place.
“Deirdre!”
Digging her nails into the tree, she turned to see Iain running straight to her.
“Iain! I thought you were… soldiers or something!” She let out a nervous laugh, bringing her hands to her chest.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, putting an arm on her shoulder and beginning to steer her away from the commotion. His touch banished all paralysis, and she kept up with him easily as he asked, “Did you get all the bells?”
“Yes! Now I need to meet up with Singh and—”
An explosion went off from close by, and they both ducked down behind a nearby tree. The sound of gunfire burst out, punctuated by men shouting. Deirdre peered around to see a small skirmish between soldiers and armed men in the militia a few yards away. Some of the men she recognized from the scouting mission earlier.
And they were losing.
This isn’t right! She pushed herself to her feet, reaching out to the shadows all around them. I should help—
But before she could even finish her thought, a gunshot rang out again. One of the militia fell, a bleeding hole torn through his chest, and he did not move.
No… She clamped her hands over her mouth, unable to tear her eyes away. All noise around her faded, her vision blurring except for the sight of the man, dead—dead when she could have saved him, if only she had done something.
Then another in the group was brutally hammered in the skull with the butt of a rifle. A gut-wrenching crack split through the air, and he collapsed.
“No!” She slammed her fist on a tree beside her, and shadows leaped out from behind it. Iain jerked back with a startled shout as the darkness gushed toward the skirmish like a rampaging river. The wind died, and the air grew stale. The men screamed and scattered, trying to escape. The darkness swept over them all, and Deirdre could sense the magic corroding the guns to dust—and beginning to decay the men’s fingers as well.
The men screamed in pain and horror—they were no longer attacking each other, but all, friend and foe, were scrambling wildly as the darkness ate at them like invisible, gnawing worms as it also consumed sound and light all around them.
No, no, no! Stop! Deirdre begged the magic, slapping her hands over her ears. The darkness only grew denser and wilder, swirling like a whirlpool in the forest and tearing away even at the trees and ground.
“Deirdre, that’s enough!”
She jerked as Iain grabbed her shoulder, snapping her gaze to meet his eyes. “I-it’s not listening to me! It won’t listen to me!”
“It’s going to be all right—you’re listening to me now, yeah?” When she nodded, he continued in a steady voice, “You know this… this is the same magic as last night. It’ll listen to you again, just like you’re listening to me now.”
“I—” Deirdre inhaled, eyes shut, then breathed out, lowering her hands from her face. “I know. I know you’re right. I need to…”
Just focus. She turned all her attention toward Iain’s hand—warm, reassuring, and steady. Focus.
Eyes still shut, using the sensation of Iain’s grip as an anchor, she reached out again to the magic. She could still sense it swirling about, eating away at the men and the woods, but it had slowed, gnawing uncertainly, weakly.
Stop that, now, she ordered.
It obeyed. It was no longer decaying with its touch but otherwise was unchanged.
Why? Why won’t you stop moving and… No. Her eyes flew open, looking at the shadows. We both know the job isn’t done. I have to save Singh’s men and stop the soldiers. But how? Sucking out sound isn’t enough. The darkness is so good at pulling at things that…
Her eyebrows raised. I wonder if it could just tug on the soldiers? Like the moon was being pulled at last night? That— I remember! It was gravity.
As she raised her hand, the shadows lifted, hovering in the tree limbs like a storm cloud. She could see the militia and the soldiers there; pointing just one finger, she lowered strands of the darkness toward each of the soldiers, each time with a whisper.
Pull them down to the earth. Hold them there.
The darkness leaped onto the soldiers she targeted, sweeping over them like a blanket and flattening them to the ground. It was much like the earthen binds from earlier, but smoother, easier, and even gentler, gravity holding the men down to earth, increasing just as much as needed.
Now stay.
The small, dark pools of gravity obeyed, pinning the men in place, not growing weaker or stronger even as she lowered her hand and all other shadows faded and vanished.
“You did that?” Iain was beaming at her, eyes wide, half unbelieving. His hand was still on her shoulder.
Unable to contain her relief, she reached up and clutched his hand, letting out a brief, relieved chuckle. “Yes. Yes! Thanks to you.”
“Deirdre…” For some reason Iain was suddenly flustered, shuffling his feet and shifting his gaze around as if he were uncomfortable, but he smiled.
It was quite a sight to behold, making Deirdre let go of his hand and ask, “Are you all right?”
“I’m… I’m fine, I—”
“You!” One of the militia had spotted them; the rest of his group were retreating northwest, glancing scared looks at the shadows pinning the soldiers on the ground, then at Deirdre. “I don’t know if you’re faeries or what, but if you’re not with the army, get out of here! They are coming.”
As if in response to his words, gunfire rang out, very close, along with cracking and grinding of one of the many weak, makeshift barricades being demolished.
“Right.” Iain nodded to her, and they turned and headed straight west. “We’re going to meet up with Singh if we can, yeah?”
“Yes.”
The woods around them were growing darker. Afternoon was waning, and night came early in the forest. Its coming made her less anxious, even as her heart began to race as they ran.
Iain was right. I do have my magic for a reason. I don’t know what it is yet, but… She smiled, a strange sense of relief washing over her, despite the chaos of the battlefield. But I can’t wait to find out! I want to know what this magic is for. Even if…
Even if it means going to the Summer Court. Even if it means facing my parents, whoever they are… it’ll be worth it. She flexed her fingers, feeling a spark of Shadow Magic there, as alive as fire but soft as velvet. My magic is worth it.
It seemed that for each step they took, the military took two as they sprinted through the woods. There was the chaotic noise of small skirmishes, the explosions of barricades being destroyed, and then the grinding noise of a tank leading the assault, drawing closer and closer, leaving the others behind.
As they neared, a horrible fear grew that they were all chasing her, distracting her and making her look back too often. The fourth time she glanced back, her foot caught between two roots and twisted forward. A horrible pain shot up through her ankle.
Iain immediately stopped, asking if she was all right. She brushed his question away, going on like nothing was wrong. But her foot hurt more with each step.
This is nothing. I can treat it after we’re safe!
But she was limping by the time they reached the lines of barricades, the largest and most fortified. This was where Singh and his men were located; she could see glimpses of the militia, watching over the barricade and preparing to fight the assault. Or for retreat.
This is it! She began to run behind Iain across a stretch of wide clearing just before the barricade. If we get behind there, we’ll be okay! We’ll be—
A deafening explosion boomed above them, followed by a hollow crack as a tree split in two with the force of the cannon fire. Iain pushed her back, and they both fell, the collapsing, splitting tree just missing them, making the ground quake.
Deirdre’s head shot up, and she blew hair from her mouth, looking around wildly. What was that? It couldn’t be—
Then she froze, spotting a small tank, stalled by too many trees growing close together at the edge of the small clearing. Crossing the clearing was a large armored car, heading straight for them in the middle. Scattered rounds were coming from behind the large barricade, but the fallen tree blocked the gunfire.
Deirdre squinted at the dark windows of the armored vehicle; she reached out with her magic, sensing as though looking inside herself.
Though she’d only personally met him once, she knew him immediately: Alan. And that sickening feeling of being hunted, setting the hair on her neck on end, overwhelmed her.
“We have to go!” She leaped to her feet even as Iain was still rising, then winced and buckled down on one foot. Her left ankle didn’t just hurt; it felt broken.
Iain reached to pull her up, but she pushed him away hard. He didn’t try again, shocked.
“I-I can’t.” She gestured quickly at her injured foot.
“I’ll help you then!”
Her gaze darted wildly toward the truck, which was barreling toward them; they had only seconds.
“You go ahead; get to Singh and get help!” She took off the pouch with the bells and shoved them into his arms.
Immediately he shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving you.”
Help me get him out of here, Deirdre ordered the darkness around them, looking past Iain at the barricade. If I can get him out of here and over there, at least he’ll be all right!
Because once Alan gets here, neither of us will be safe.
The shadows obeyed and wrapped around all the trees around them. Iain started, automatically stepping back to look up. The vehicle slowed but still continued driving toward them.
Shutting her eyes, she zoned in on the trees, seeing them through her magic’s eyes. Gravity was pulling on the trees, trying to constantly draw them straight to the ground; like reaching out and grabbing a sheet, she pinched at the forces near the base of the trees, then pulled them all straight to the side, hard.
The trees cracked and then splintered down the middle, falling with horrible groaning as an entire chunk of their trunks was torn out from underneath them. They fell to the earth, some getting caught in the branches of others that were out of her reach, but most crashing straight down into the clearing.
She knew none of them would fall on her from the beginning, but one collapsed slowly, turning, raking through the limbs of others, straight down toward Iain. He noticed just in time and dove aside toward the barricade. The tree crashed to the ground, leaves and branches flying everywhere. It barred Iain from her but also blocked any chance of her own escape.
But now that Iain’s safe…
Facing the vehicle and tank, she raised her hands, which she willed to grow warm with magic. Tears springing to her eyes, she let loose all her fear, all her anger, and all her disgust toward Alan and everything he meant to her: a liar, a cruel man, and a horrible father.
And—tears fell as Kallista’s voice and face when speaking about Alan came to mind—a horrible husband. Everything… everything is his fault!
Her magic ran loose, leaping through the woods, alternately muffling sound, blocking out light, sometimes eating away at man and tree, and sometimes pulling people to the ground with bursts of intense gravity. She didn’t care what it did, just as long as it kept them all away from her.
And as the screams, shouts, and sounds of confusion reached her, for a moment her breath caught, eyes opening with hope at what seemed like a very real chance she’d be all right—
A gunshot cracked through the air; something struck straight through her shoulder, knocking her back. Blood streamed through her fingers as she, mute with shock, grabbed her shoulder. Her connection to her magic froze, growing numb as her mind reeled.
Looking back up, the last thing she saw was Alan, taking one step over her and raising his gun, bringing the butt of the rifle straight down toward her face.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I’m still bleeding.
Deirdre came to, feeling wet blood on her face. Then her ankle caught on something, and she hissed sharply in pain, eyes fluttering open. She was being dragged by the arms, and at first the woods around were just a blur of yellow, red, and brown and the gray-green of the military vehicles. Something hot was biting at her wrists, and she immediately knew the iron cuffs were back.
Then she was dropped as carelessly as a sack of luggage, falling hard to the forest floor. Groaning, she tried and failed to sit up as someone stepped past her; she heard the loud flapping of a large tarp being taken up and, with some struggle, being thrown off. There was an odd hissing sound, and the faint buzzing of something mechanical.
“What’s that?” she asked, her voice slurring as she shook her head and tried to sit up again.
“Quiet.” Alan’s voice was hard as he wrenched her to her feet and pulled her onward; she stepped down onto her damaged foot. She cried and buckled forward, the pain making her vision blur and threaten to fade. But she was hoisted up, pushed through the doors inside the back of a truck, and then thrust onto a chair, her arms pulled up. Alan yanked down iron restraints onto her arms, holding them down. Beside her was something hot, and iron was whirring mechanically.
What is this? What’s happening?
She forced her vision to focus on the strange machine beside her. Alan was standing nearby, tugging long, thick, dark tubes from the machine and drawing them out. She tried fruitlessly to move away, calling out to her magic weakly as Alan attached the tubes straight to her arms, right above the cuffs. Her magic answered, but it was drowned out as something sharp and iron dug straight into her veins. A jolt like electricity ran through her, overwhelming her senses and tensing her whole body, like she’d been stuck through all over with large needles.
The machine w
hirred louder and faster; there was the sound of something like water being pumped quickly. At the same time, her head spun faster and faster as she struggled to stay awake.
Help me. She reached out to her magic again, desperate. The response was faint, like a single raindrop where a whole storm should have been. It grew more and more distant, like the final rush of a stream that was drying up.
Her magic was slipping away, and there was nothing she could do.
Don’t go! Hot tears streamed down her face as she raised her hands weakly, as if to grab on. I can’t lose you. I was just getting to know you. Please…
“Almost.” Alan’s voice came as if from miles away. “I’m almost rid of you.”
She clenched her fists with all the energy she had, grinding her teeth. No—I won’t let you win. My magic can’t be leaving. He can’t do that! He’s just cruel, and he’s killing me cruelly. I won’t let him! Please— With all the strength she had left, even as she felt like she was falling, she ordered her Shadow Magic, These wires on my arm, these cuffs, anything holding me—destroy them! Make them rot and decay! No matter what happens…
She shuddered, freezing. She was falling into ice-cold water, with dead, sharp-nailed hands dragging her down. The last thing she sensed was the small traces of her magic inching around her, like worms, eating away at her restraints.
I won’t let him win.
* * *
The faery’s blood was nearly drained, her magic flowing with it and energizing the machine. The metal device hummed louder than ever before, thrumming with power; it drank the faery in like a creature starved of water, quenched for the first time in ages.
There was enough blood, enough magic to break through the barrier. Yet Alan’s hand hovered over the mechanism that would stop the suctioning of her blood, and he did not shut it off. It would shut off on its own once there was nothing left to feed upon.
“This will be finished soon,” Alan told her. “For you and for me. The Cataclysm will be paid for in Fae blood, and you will have helped to see it through to fruition.”
