He scanned the area beyond, but didn’t locate Relle, though he had no doubt she would begin her distraction at any moment. Spotting King Drokeh with his general at his side, Simith sheathed his sword and dropped down behind them.
Half a dozen blades turned his direction. He lifted his hands. “Greetings.”
Drokeh growled low in his throat and waved them away. “Back to your line. Watch those archers.” He regarded Simith with some surprise. “You didn’t flee.”
“I’ve come with an offer of help.”
Seshi grunted. “We just pulled you out of a trap of your own. How can you help us?”
“You’ll recall a trio of pookas approached you on my behalf.”
She flashed her fangs at him. “That’s to be our salvation?”
Screams erupted from the fairies.
“They weren’t pookas.”
Beyond the boulders, brambles swelled from the ground, scrambling vines as thick as tree branches sprouting daggered thorns. They curled around fairy limbs and necks, dragging them down while blackberries erupted like dark jewels, filling the air with the scent of blood and fermented fruit.
“Go.” Simith alighted on the tallest boulder. He unsheathed his sword. “Head east when you reach the other side of the hill and don’t stop.”
Drokeh shouted orders to his people as Simith scanned the area. He spotted Relle beyond the rise of lethal shrubbery. Once more, her glamour had fallen, revealing her Fae features. Her eyes were closed, lips clamped tight. Fell light surrounded her, an invisible wind tugging at her clothes and flattening her dark curls. The fairies not trapped in the brambles screeched when they saw her.
“Fae!” they cried. “Fae have come!”
A trio of archers still standing turned their bows toward her. Simith launched himself at them. He sliced his blade through the bowstring of one and tackled another. Snatching the dagger from the archer’s hip, he hurled it at the third, but not before someone kicked him in the ribs. The blow threw off his aim. He missed.
But the archer never shot his arrow. The dirt stirred around them and a violent tremor shook the ground. Startled, Simith leapt to the air again. A split formed in the soil under the archers. Not just them, he realized, turning in the direction the trolls had gone, but all the fairies. He watched in awed horror as roots twisted up like knuckles, pulling apart the shelf of land beneath the fairies’ feet. A chasm opened, an earthen mouth yawning wide to swallow them whole. They tumbled helplessly in, their screams an endless keen amidst an endless fall—until it snapped shut. The boom pounded his ears. A gust of wind vaulted him upward and dirt spewed into the air.
Silence followed. Simith swiped a hand over his face, shaken by the idea that any creature could wield such power. It was one thing to have heard of the tales of the Fae, but seeing it firsthand was something else entirely.
He descended with caution, squinting through the dusty haze in search of Relle. Picking out a prone figure crumpled on the ground, he arrowed toward it.
He called her name, landing beside her. She appeared unconscious. He lifted a hand to touch her shoulder, more than a little hesitant to do so. “Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”
She groaned softly and opened her eyes. Blood spilled out of them.
His stomach dropped to his boots. The curse.
“What can I do?” he asked.
She gave a minute shake of her head, silver gaze resigned. “Katie and Jessa,” she rasped. “Make sure they…get home.”
“What of you? What of your promise?”
“I…I…” Red dribbled from her lips. A whimper escaped.
Her suffering twisted his heart. She had spared his life in her world. He would not leave her to die like this in his.
Simith lifted her in his arms and gave her a stern look. “Don’t give up,” he said, and flew as fast as his wings could take him.
Arriving to Hollow Hill, Simith felt an echo of his younger self beside him as he spoke the password that allowed them into its sanctuary. He’d been barely eighteen at the time, his little cousins in his arms, his heart shriveled with overwhelming loss. Today, it felt no less heavy while he watched the trolls pass through. The same doubts. The same dread for the future. He caught a glimpse of Katie and Jessa sitting beside Relle in the wagon as it came by. Its iron structure helped to slow the speed of the curse as he’d hoped, though the symptoms continued to spread. Simith feared the iron’s drain on Relle’s strength might outweigh its benefit soon, but he could think of nothing more to do.
“I will see if she responds to the twilight diamond,” Drokeh said, and Simith turned, surprised to find him standing beside him. “It might give her some relief.”
“My thanks.”
He surveyed his people walking past. “And you have mine.” His chuckle was a low rumble. “A Fae on your side. I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be more unpredictable as an ally than an enemy, Sun Fury.”
Simith couldn’t will a polite smile to his face. “It was never my people’s wish to be your enemy.”
Drokeh grunted. “Then you shouldn’t have gotten involved in the war.”
He fought the pulse of anger rising in him. “What did you expect us to do after your repeated attacks against our homeland?”
The stars were fading with approaching dawn. They’d arrived just in time. He watched the last of the trolls enter the hill.
“You ought to go in,” Simith said. “The sun will soon rise.”
But the king didn’t move. The intensity of Drokeh’s stare made Simith turn, expecting a glare to meet him. Instead, his regard looked closer to shock.
“Tell me, Simith of Drifthorn,” he said quietly. “As a long-time veteran of this war, do you truly believe I would see a tactical gain in attacking pixie hamlets?”
“There is always gain in destroying your enemy’s morale.”
“That’s not what I mean.” His hand swept wide around them. “Think. See the horizon of your homeland, its wide, flat landscapes. Look at its endless skies and sparse forests.”
“What of them?” he bit out, patience fraying.
Drokeh tilted his head and held his gaze.
Simith’s temper soared. He nearly stalked away. Then understanding crashed upon him, an unseen predator swooping down from above. There was no cover in the moorlands, not for many leagues. To attack the hamlets would be a great risk, with limited time to engage an enemy and withdraw to safety before night gave way to dawn.
No, they couldn’t have been tricked into the war. It wasn’t possible. He’d witnessed the trolls’ attack on his people himself. Unless…Glamour? He’d already witnessed the fairies’ use of it in the other world. He hadn’t recognized them at all. If not for the lights in Jessa’s greenhouse, he’d have sworn on his sword they were trolls. A groan of disbelief escaped him. The fairies hadn’t been able to conquer the Twilight Grotto on their own in close to a century. They’d needed an additional force to see it done. One that could attack from the air. One they could control utterly if only they gave them a reason. If they made them afraid. If they made them hate.
Simith realized he’d fallen to his knees. He stared at the ground.
“I think we have much to discuss.” Drokeh’s voice was soft.
“All this,” he said. “They’ve done all this just for a stronger conduit?”
“No.” The king eyed the horizon and stepped to the entrance into the hill. “They’ve done it because the twilight diamonds would make them immortal.”
Chapter Ten
Jessa watched the slow, meticulous movements of Simith’s hands winding the gauze from her first aid kit around the gash on her upper arm. His gaze was attentive to his task, but his thoughts seemed far away, his eyes sad.
“Simith,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
“I am well,” he answered, his voice as hollow as this hill.
He wasn’t well at all. Everything about him seemed hunched since he came inside, as if a physical weight rested across his s
houlders. She was torn between prodding him to talk about it, or letting him be. It struck her that she’d probably made others feel this way. Still, there were times when the hurt was too overwhelming to simply talk about. Sometimes the best comfort was having a friend nearby who didn’t force the issue.
“It’s cozier than I thought it would be in here,” she said.
“What had you expected to find?”
“A lot of dirt, for one. This is more like a garden.”
Her eyes drifted over the area. Covered in soft, green moss out of which little sprigs of purple-white flowers grew, the ground felt as soft as any cushion. Even the wide walls and high, domed ceiling were strewn in ivy and fronds of lush wisteria. Since the sunlight couldn’t reach any of it, she wondered how the plants thrived so well, but she supposed magic solved that problem. Narrow brick paths wound through the large space with bench-like mounds offering places to sit. Wooden lampposts shimmered with a ball of gentle white light that sent the shadows to the far corners. Simith had found her not long ago, bidding her to bring her first aid supplies, before leading her to one.
“We crafted Hollow Hill to be a temporary home,” Simith replied to her comment, lifting his eyes to the two dozen trolls milling the area. He paused on the wagon before returning his attention to the bandage. “A sanctuary ought to feel like one.”
She doubted Katie would ever see it, glued to Relle’s side from the moment Simith brought her back. Jessa was grateful for his quick thinking. The iron bothered Relle, who moved in and out of consciousness, but it lessened the agony of the curse. The pain seemed to follow her even in her sleep. Katie, pale-faced and dry-eyed, sat vigil, feeding her sips of water and holding on to her hand like a lifeline.
Watching them, Jessa struggled with her guilt. They wouldn’t be here if not for her…but they had also chosen to come. Let us help you. Let us in. This was the trust Katie had meant. She’d never have found Simith without them. To let guilt consume her lessened the sacrifice Relle had made to secure their escape. Trust was more than sharing confidences. It was allowing others to be there in times of need.
That was what she told herself anyway. Believing it was easier said than done. The guilt remained, thick as mud in her chest, but the knowledge helped to keep her from drowning in it. She had to resist the old pattern telling her to withdraw into numbness. She’d been living in the cold a long time now. If she wanted to live, she had to let go of that shell.
“I must leave soon to alert the hamlets of our presence here,” Simith said, tucking the corner of her bandage under the wrappings. “Our tracks will be visible to any morning flyers.”
“I’ll come with you,” she said immediately.
His eyes met hers before sliding away. “It’s better if you remain. I’m not sure how they’ll react to me.”
She watched him pull down her sleeve, deliberate fingers easing the bunched fabric over her wound. He was nervous. She doubted it was for his safety.
“It’s been a long time since you came home,” she said. “It might be easier if you had company.”
He released her arm, shifting on their grassy bench to face her fully. His sharp brown eyes were guarded.
“Let us first speak of what there is between us. You told me my dreams are your memories. Relle said my death would cause yours. Why?”
Jessa took a deep breath. “Wayward magic.”
She launched into what she hoped was a comprehensive retelling of Ionia’s explanation of the memory-dreams and the link forged between them when he healed her. As she spoke, his jaw clenched so hard she worried his teeth might fuse permanently together.
“This was the cause of the weakness I felt?” he asked.
“And the cold. We have to stay near each other or the single life force we share gets stretched too thin.”
He stood, clasping his hands behind his back, pacing three steps away, then back. His eyes lifted to hers, a wall she couldn’t see through. “You have also seen my memories?”
“Some of them. There hasn’t been much time for sleep.”
His expression hardened to marble. “You’ve seen me in battle?”
She hesitated. Did he worry she judged him? Because she didn’t. Cruel chaos blanketed the battles she’d witnessed. Death like warm rain over fields of horror and fear. And Simith, slicing through the lives in his wake, his battered heart patched with hate thumping go, go, go.
She nodded. “Sometimes.”
Simith held her gaze, searching. His hard look melted away, replaced with inexpressible weariness. He sat heavily beside her again, his elbows on his knees, his face bracketed by tightly curled fists.
“Jessa,” he whispered. “Forgive me. I never intended this.”
She leaned back, startled. “It’s not your fault.”
“You shouldn’t have to watch such atrocities. I swear to do all I can to separate us.”
She lifted a hand, wanting to unclench one of his fists, unsure whether he’d allow it. “Simith, this was an accident.”
“Please.” He looked up, mouth severe, gaze beseeching. “Don’t do that. I am responsible for so much damage. So much,” his eyes grew damp and his voice wavered, “so much harm. You must not defend me.”
His terrible shame squeezed her heart. There were things he’d done for which he rightfully felt responsible, but not this. Not her.
She took hold of one fist and cradled it gently between her palms. “‘They whose guilt within their bosom lies, imagine every eye beholds their blame.’”
His eyes softened with awe. “What are these words?”
“A little Shakespeare. Another maker of verse.” She tried at a smile. “Listen to me now. This link between us is not your fault. Even Ionia said she’s never seen magic react the way it did.”
“Then what is the cause?”
“Partly, she thinks it’s because you refused to let me go even after your magic was gone. You…split yourself apart to save me.”
They stared at each other, the words settling between them like the memory of that moment. He didn’t refute them. His fist opened, fingers curling around hers. They gave a slight squeeze of acknowledgement.
“You said partly,” he noted. “Is there another element?”
“You could call it that,” she agreed with a sigh. “I’m pregnant.”
“You,” he blanched, “you were with child when it happened?”
She nodded.
“The second heartbeat,” he murmured. “What a fool I am. I thought you were simply different. I never even considered—”
He broke off, gaze flicking upward. Jessa followed where he looked, but saw nothing.
“What wrong?” she asked.
“Stay beside me.” Tension sang along the rigid lines of his body. “I’ll make sure we aren’t separated.”
“What do you mean? Are we in danger?”
Before he could answer, a line of pixies appeared along a mossy balcony spanning the length of one wall. It blended so well with the ivy she’d have never known it was there. Clad in rust-colored tunics, their long hair dressed in feathers and hollyhocks, they looked like creatures out of a child’s fable—a lethal one. Each held a bow in their hands, arrows already aimed at the occupants below.
“Trolls,” an older pixie with silver-black hair spat. “You trespass.”
Jessa squinted at him. He seemed familiar.
King Drokeh descended from the wagon. He didn’t reach for a weapon, his hands extended from his sides as he faced them. “We intended no trespass. We were invited here.”
“By whom?”
“By me.” Simith stood, drawing Jessa up with him. He regarded the older pixie stoically, but a slight tremor shook the hand that held hers. He touched his heart. “Father, I greet you.”
“Simith,” the other breathed, his bow drooping. A wave of emotions flitted across his face, too many to fully see. The hard lines settled back into place. If possible, he looked even angrier. “You should not have come back.
”
Then he lifted his bow and fired.
Continue the story with the final installment: “Through a Valley of White Mist.”
The only hope of defeating the fairies lies at the heart of the Forgotten Vale. To reach it, Simith and Jessa will have to bargain with the lich who dwells there, a terrifying wraith that feeds on reason and sanity. If they don’t find a way to outsmart its traps and obtain the magic they need, not only will the war be lost, but their lives as well.
Pick up Forgotten Magic, book three of the Magic Underground trilogy, today!
About the Author
A child of two cultures, Anela Deen, a hapa haole Hawaiian girl, is currently landlocked in the Midwest. After exploring the world for a chunk of years, she hunkered down in Minnesota and now fills her days with family, fiction, and the occasional snowstorm. With a house full of lovable toddlers, a three-legged cat, and one handsome Dutchman, she prowls the keyboard late at night while the minions sleep. Coffee? Nah, she prefers tea with a generous spoonful of sarcasm.
For more information about the author, please visit: https://amidtheimaginary.wordpress.com/my-books. Don’t forget to grab your copy of Forgotten Magic for more fantasy adventures.
The Greatest Sin
A Sacrifice of Body
Lee French & Erik Kort
Control taunts Algernon, dancing out of his reach with a whiff of smoke and shadow. Adults toy with powerful magic, producing unexpected results. When the two collide, blood is in the air.
Lee French & Erik Kort
In the world of The Greatest Sin epic fantasy series, a teenager grapples with the intense guilt of having violated the most basic tenets of his family's religious beliefs. The frustrations of adolescence propel him into a confusing maze of adults with secrets who want much more from him than they admit.
Two horses pounded through the mud of the packed earth road with rain falling in thick, opaque sheets. Algernon clung to his mother with numb, frozen fingers, desperate to stay on the horse with her. His father and Grandma Katona shared the second horse, her wounds still knitting after her taste of death.
Wayward Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 2) Page 69
