Peigi especially enjoyed batting water at Crispin, who hissed and snarled at her. Cats.
Stuart had gathered all the iron to him in one lump. The moment Crispin brushed water off himself and caught his breath, Stuart reformed the chains and made them wrap themselves around the Feline again.
“Aw, come on.” Crispin grabbed a chain and held it up in disgust. “What do I have to do?”
“Can’t risk you running back to the keep and unleashing a dozen hoch alfar guards on our asses.” Stuart coiled the ropes and hoisted them over his arm. “I’ll let you out when we’re home.”
“Great.”
“I say we make ourselves scarce.” Stuart eyed the castle, half-hidden by trees growing out from the gorge’s walls. “Before our new Tuil Erdannan friend decides to come after us, or send out the hoch alfar.”
“Surprised he hasn’t already,” Peigi said as she rose out of her bear form into her between-beast.
Stuart motioned them toward the bank, and they all splashed toward it. “Tuil Erdannan sort of live outside the rest of us, as though what happens to us isn’t any more important to them than what bugs are doing under the ground is to us.”
“Sure,” Crispin said in disgust. “The bugs aren’t important, until you’re infested with termites.”
“Exactly my point. The Tuil Erdannan only crush things when they’re annoyed. I’d bet the guy up there has already forgotten about us.”
“We can hope.” Peigi shuddered. “Do you believe him when he says he’s Lady Aisling’s husband?”
“Who knows? If we ever see her again, we can ask.”
Peigi wondered why the two were estranged, and whether the man had left Lady Aisling or she’d kicked him out. She decided she wouldn’t want to be between them when they fought.
They made their long way back to Cian’s camp, no one speaking much. The karmsyern was gone, and the Tuil Erdannan were more involved than any of them had thought. Unsettling; the outlook bleak.
Peigi traveled as her bear, keeping an eye on Crispin, who walked ahead of her, disconsolate. He’d gambled everything when he’d defected to the hoch alfar, and he’d lost.
They spent another night in the damp forest. Peigi was hungry, but Shifters could stave off hunger and thirst for a time, drawing on energy reserves until their next feast. Bears were particularly good at this, which was why they could nap for a month and wake up none the worse for wear.
Stuart also remained stoic, as though hiking through woods without food or water was a stroll in the park to him. Crispin didn’t complain, but he clamped his lips together sullenly, making sure they knew he suffered in silence.
Stuart and Peigi cuddled together at night. She wondered what Stuart would do now that the karmsyern was no more—Cian would need the iron master more than ever.
This was Stuart’s home, his true home. Peigi loved him, and she believed he loved her, if what she’d seen in his eyes was true. But the choice had to be his.
Peigi pulled him close, warming him as he kept watch, pain in her heart.
They reached Cian’s camp the next afternoon, and found it in chaos.
The battle had resumed, Cian told Stuart as he and Peigi hastened to where Cian stood over his map in the middle of the site. Tents fluttered as they were dismantled, dokk alfar hastily piled carts and wagons with supplies, and wounded soldiers lay everywhere.
Stuart translated for Peigi. Things were going poorly, Cian said. He’d have to retreat or be killed to the last man.
Stuart should have been exhausted from their three-day trek with nothing to show for it, but he straightened his shoulders and took on an expression of hard determination. He asked Cian a question, and Cian motioned him to his map spread out over flat boulders.
The map was beautiful, exquisitely drawn to the last detail, very different from a relief map or a hastily scribbled plan of battle. Peigi saw a flicker of movement on it and leaned closer.
She sucked in a surprised breath. This was a real-time depiction of the battle, with tiny figures moving around trees and rocks, as though a GPS satellite beamed images down to the sheet of paper.
Stuart rested his hands on his thighs as he scrutinized the battlefield, he and Cian speaking together in the dokk alfar language. Finally Stuart straightened up, gave Cian a nod, lifted the iron sword he’d reformed, and strode off under the misty trees.
Peigi, as bear, ran after him. Stuart turned to her as she crashed through the brush, but he didn’t admonish her or tell her to go back and wait for him. He rested his hand on her shoulder, and together they walked toward the battle.
The armies were fighting hand to hand by the time Peigi and Stuart reached them, bloodily hacking and cutting each other. Men shouted, screamed, died. Shifter bodies lay everywhere, motionless, while the Shifters still alive fought in tight groups, harrying dokk alfar who had to divert from fighting hoch alfar or be torn apart by Shifters.
So much for rounding up the Shifters and keeping an eye on them. Peigi saw Michael, roaring as his grizzly bear, his scarred face fearsome. He shifted to his between-beast as he fought a leopard who was lithe and fast.
“Stay down, you fuckers!” he yelled. “Stupid bastards. No Guardians, you assholes.”
The slain Shifters would simply be dead, no Guardian to release their souls to the Summerland and render their bodies dust. Shifter souls floating free could be enslaved, with no hope of reprisal. It was the worst fear of a Shifter, and Peigi shared it, to die out of reach of a Guardian.
No one was winning this battle—they were simply killing each other. The hoch alfar fought with mad hatred, as did the dokk alfar. The Shifters only added to the madness.
“Screw this,” Stuart snarled.
He strode forward. The mists silhouetted him as he lifted his arm and spun his sword like a quarterstaff.
Mist swirled from the sword and gathered around him like a cloak. Peigi hung back, not wanting to hamper him, poised to rush to his aid.
Stuart flung the sword high. It flipped end over end in perfect arcs, rising higher, higher. When the sword reached its apex, Stuart bellowed a single word.
That sound reverberated from the trees, amplifying itself above the noise of battle, above cries of man and beast. The vibrations of power that touched Peigi were no less formidable than what had come from the Tuil Erdannan in the castle.
Fae soldiers halted in sudden worry. Shifters were slower to respond—when Shifters hit killing frenzy, they were difficult to stop—but at last they ceased, breathless and wondering.
The iron sword splintered. It became thousands of shards, dull black against the mist, thicker than a swarm of locusts. A darkness formed around it like black fog.
Peigi had seen this before, when they’d fought the hoch alfar just inside a gate in the ley line outside Las Vegas. As they had then, the hoch alfar looked skyward in collective terror, and then they ran.
The hoch alfar soldiers fled through woods and underbrush, scrambling and slamming into each other, anything to escape the deadly bolts falling from the sky.
The Shifters stared in bafflement as the hoch alfar changed from attacking fury to screaming masses of terror. The shards began to rain down on the Shifters as well—they weren’t affected by iron, but a thousand bullets falling on them was going to hurt.
The Shifters roared and yelled, and tried to run. Michael had retreated under the trees when the shards began to fall, but he reemerged, realizing they weren’t falling on him.
He started driving the Shifters toward the river as Cian had directed him, using plenty of foul words as well as fists and roars. Peigi joined him, charging at the confused Shifters until they ran, snarling and yowling into the river. There they cowered, beating off the shards that stung them.
“Nice.” Michael’s voice held admiration. He held up his hand-paw for a high five as Peigi flowed from bear into her half-Shifter state.
Peigi studied the hand a moment, which hovered, waiting for a sign of comradeship.
She could give Michael a withering glance and turn her back. She’d won their dominance fight, and he couldn’t do anything about that.
Or she could acknowledge him, start healing herself by letting the anger out of her heart.
She slapped his palm with hers. Michael started, then grinned crookedly.
Someone should have slammed him in a dominance battle a long time ago, she decided. Might have made him turn out better.
The dokk alfar recovered from their dazed surprise at the iron master’s magic and chased the fleeing hoch alfar, their cries of triumph receding into the distance. Stuart lowered his hands and strolled toward Peigi, none the worse for wear. He wasn’t even breathing hard.
“So that’s done,” he said.
Peigi morphed into her human form, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Peigi kept shooting Stuart smiles full of hot promise as they returned to camp, Peigi dressed again, and Stuart’s blood burned. The kiss they’d shared on the riverbank had been sizzling, making Stuart want to carry her away and make love to her, screw the battle, screw ruined iron talismans.
Only the cold, damp ground, the snarling Shifters, and the wild screams of celebrating dokk alfar had stopped him. He wanted Peigi somewhere warm, soft, and private.
Cian’s expression was bleak as Stuart told him in more detail about the destruction of the karmsyern and the appearance of the Tuil Erdannan. Cian let out a few colorful words Stuart hadn’t heard since he’d been much younger.
“We’re fucked,” Cian concluded.
“Maybe,” Stuart said. “What we’re hoping is that Lady Aisling will be amenable to making another one for the dokk alfar. If she hears her husband is involved, that might motivate her on your side. I got the feeling the two aren’t exactly on the best terms.”
Cian remained cynical. “The Tuil Erdannan do what they damn well please. As we discussed before, we can’t count on her.”
“I know,” Stuart answered. “But we have friends she likes. I’m going to gamble on that friendship.” He let out a breath. “Face it—it’s all we’ve got.”
Cian growled. “I suppose we don’t have a choice.” He trailed off into phrases that would make a human howl and flee if they knew what they meant. Human swear words were sparkles and glitter compared to the ones in dokk alfar.
“We’ll need to go back through the ley line, or bring our friends to us,” Stuart said, and waited.
Cian frowned. “I told you, I didn’t bring you through this ley line. I have no idea how to send you back.”
Stuart didn’t like the qualm his words gave him. “It doesn’t matter—if we find the ley line and have a spell or a talisman that can get us through, good enough.”
Cian shook his head. “My spell-caster was wounded and hasn’t regained consciousness. He’s hurt too badly to do any chanting any time soon. And I’m fresh out of talismans.”
“Um …” Crispin, who’d been helping bandage wounds of the captive Shifters, rose from kneeling beside a hurt Lupine and came to them. He spoke dokk alfar and would have understood the entire conversation. “I have a talisman you can use. It’s how I crossed over in the first place.”
He reached into his tunic. Stuart grabbed his hand, not trusting he wasn’t going for a weapon, and searched Crispin’s pocket himself. He closed his fingers around something warm and metal, and brought out a small silver medallion fashioned into a Celtic knot.
Stuart studied the medallion in his palm, feeling its tingle of magic. “Why are you volunteering this? I can’t believe you’re suddenly excited to help the dokk alfar.”
Crispin shrugged. “The Tuil Erdannan dude will tell the hoch alfar I sneaked you into the keep, so I won’t be good for anything but a lion skin if I go back to the Fae prince. Besides.” He deflated. “I should go home anyway. Throw myself on Dylan’s mercy.”
Stuart closed his hand around the medallion. “Good choice.”
He didn’t trust Crispin entirely—any Shifter who had chosen to go over to the hoch alfar couldn’t have his priorities straight. But it was worth a try. He would have Cian keep an eye on Crispin while Stuart checked out whether the medallion worked. If the medallion did anything it wasn’t supposed to, Stuart would … Well, he’d think of something.
Cian showed him on the map approximately where Stuart and Peigi had been when they arrived, and where the ley line ran.
The closest point was about a mile from camp. Stuart explained the situation to Peigi, and together they walked out of the teeming camp, making for the ley line.
“That was hot,” Peigi said.
He started. “What was? Asking how to get to the ley line?”
Peigi walked closer to him. “You alone facing the hoch alfar. Whirling your sword like a bad-ass.”
Stuart grinned at her, then he sobered. “Cian was right that he needed an iron master. I didn’t realize what he was up against. And I never guessed the hoch alfar would be able to destroy the karmsyern.”
He didn’t like the tension his words put into Peigi’s eyes. “What will you do?” she asked, voice calm.
“I don’t know yet.”
She meant would Stuart remain in Faerie, lending his magic to Cian? Stuart had learned on his brief journey here years ago to save Cassidy and Diego that his family and all close to him were dead. He’d decided there was nothing left for him. He’d gladly gone back to Shiftertown to be with Peigi and take care of the orphaned cubs.
Now Peigi was his mate. But dokk alfar could die by the thousands if he did nothing. They were strong fighters, but without the karmsyern, and with Shifters turning on them, Stuart’s people needed all the help they could get.
Peigi pulled him to a halt before Stuart could continue. Mist surrounded them, and against it, Peigi’s eyes held warm comfort.
“I know you have to make a choice,” she said. “I’ve struggled with this decision, because I know this is your life, your people, your home.”
Stuart’s body went cold, his heart like lead in his chest. She was going to tell him to leave her, to stay in Faerie with Cian, to save the lives he could. To say good-bye to her, to the cubs, to all he’d come to love. Because it was the right thing to do.
Stuart drew a breath to speak, but Peigi put her fingers to his lips.
“Let me finish. I’ve decided that, whether we’re stuck here, or we go back, or you decide to stay, I stick with you. Doesn’t matter what.”
His throat went dry. “Peigi …”
“Doesn’t matter what. We’re mates. Mates protect each other. Remember what you said to me? That it was stupid that when things were the most dire we split up? Well, I agree.” Peigi slid closer to him, moving her fingers so her breath could touch his mouth. “We stay together. Until this is done.”
The knot in Stuart’s heart dissolved, until he felt light, floating, as free as the mist. “Yeah?” He swallowed. “You’re not just saying that?”
“Nope.” Peigi smiled, which was like sunshine bursting through the worst rainy day ever. “You’re stuck with me. But once we finish what you need to do, we’ll have to go back to Shiftertown, because we promised the cubs. Remember?”
“I remember,” Stuart said, voice gentle. “When I said I didn’t know yet what I’d do, I meant whether or not to come back and help Cian from time to time. I’m definitely going home with you right now. So help me, Goddess.”
Peigi’s smile widened, and she kissed him, quietly and with tenderness. Stuart kissed her back, getting lost in the sweetness of her.
She eased from him after a long, satisfying interval. “I’m glad that’s settled, and without hours and days of drama.” Peigi straightened. “Let’s go find this gate.”
“If Crispin isn’t shitting us about this medallion.”
“Ben was in the house when we were sucked across,” she reminded him. “If anyone can find the residual magic of that and act on it, it’s Ben.”
“Here�
��s hoping.”
Peigi leaned to him and kissed him once more. “Let’s go find out.”
Peigi sensed exactly when they reached the ley line and the thin veil that separated this world from the other. The air vibrated, as though an electric power plant hummed nearby.
Except for that, this part of the woods looked no different from any other—she’d have never found the place without Cian’s directions.
“So how does this work?” she asked, trying not to shiver.
Stuart slid the medallion Crispin had given him from his pocket and dangled it from its chain. “Hey,” he addressed the air. “Open up.”
Peigi stifled a laugh. “Very mystical.”
Stuart flicked a gaze to her, every line of him taut. “I’m a fighter, not a magic user.”
“And this isn’t an RPG.”
“I wish it were,” Stuart said. “Then I’d just roll dice or click on something.”
Peigi cupped her hands around her mouth. “Ben! Are you there? We need you.”
They waited. The woods remained quiet, the only sound moisture dripping from trees to the damp forest floor.
“The gate won’t necessarily come out in our bedroom,” Stuart said. “Or Kurt’s basement. Or anywhere near our Shiftertown, for that matter. The pockets in between space and time move around. Trust me, I did plenty of research on this, for years.”
Peigi didn’t like the sound of that. What if they emerged in the middle of Antarctica? How did they get home then, if they didn’t simply freeze to death?
“So do we charge around waving the medallion and see what happens?” she asked.
Stuart handed it to her. “You try. I’m realizing that whenever I’ve come through, you’ve been with me. When we went after Diego, there you were—and I hadn’t been able to open a gate before that, no matter how much I tried. The first time Cian summoned me, I got stuck. Maybe the gates still don’t work well for me, but they do for you.”
Iron Master Page 22
