Page 45

Forty-Four

Rhoswyn

I f my mates are shocked by the gem-filled water beneath them or the glowing bitterblues above, it doesn’t show. I can’t see them, but their bonds are locked down with steely determination.

The Fomorians on the docks are overwhelmed.

One by one, they fall, invisible knives finding arteries with quiet precision. The fae slaves working in shackles around them duck, shielding their heads like they expect to be next.

Danu finally stirs at the sight of them, tugging and demanding inside of me, and I let her take over as the guards at the lift slump and gurgle their last breaths.

My glamour drops, and my skin starts to glow.

This was not the plan, but the Goddess doesn’t care, and neither do the fae below. Their shackles are being undone by invisible hands, the iron wire untwisted from around their wings as they stare up at me in pure adulation. Whispered prayers fill the air as they take up whatever weapons they can find, and Danu’s satisfaction burns bright as she relinquishes control, and I tug the glamour back over myself.

She’s started a slave uprising.

“So much for being subtle,” I mutter, returning Bree’s comforting squeeze of my hand.

The Goddess is just lucky that there isn’t too much iron up here. Enough to give me a light headache, but not to sever our bond.

I find myself suddenly glad that Drystan doesn’t know what’s going on. He’d almost certainly spank my ass if he did. Forcing down the answering pang of sadness that errant thought brings, I follow Bree’s lead down and over the edge of the waterfall. Salty water splashes me, filling my nostrils with the scent of brine, as I pull my wings back, muscles straining to hover in place.

The underground fortress looms over everything. The bitterblues and smoky braziers illuminate it with the same awe-inspiring mix of blue and orange light as before.

However, it’s been supplanted as the most terrifying feature of the great cavern.

When I was last here, the waterfall plummeted down into a small hole in the rock below, and it was that narrow, terrifying passage that I fled down to escape Elatha. It led me to the lake in the Deep Caves, and then to Bram.

Now, that tiny hole in the rock has been widened, dug out into a vast dark pit that’s partially swallowed the nearby market. It hosts a single, narrow stone stairwell which descends haphazardly into the fathomless depths, supported by rickety stone pillars that don’t look safe. It’s so deep that I can’t see the lake at the bottom, and so endless that the very sight of it fills me with dread.

I’ve never been gladder of my wings in my life than I am now, because if we’re going down there, I don’t want to take the stairs.

“Is that it?” Bree asks, drawing me close until it’s easier to tuck in my wings and let him hold us in the air.

The walls of the cavern tremble, small fragments of rock falling loose as the entire space rumbles like thunder. A handful of bitterblues fall, the plummeting fungi reminiscent of falling stars, and the thick clouds of dust add to the ominous impression.

I can’t be certain, but if I had to guess, I’d say the tunnel wyrms are unhappy about the adjustments to their demesne.

“Yes.” I steel myself, fists clenching to conceal the way my hands are shaking. “Down there.”

Bree hums thoughtfully under his breath. “We’ll stay in the air until the others get here.”

I settle against his chest, breathing in his honey scent mixed with the sea as we watch the Fomorians grasp what’s going on. Glamours drop as the first shouts go up, and the melee begins in earnest.

The element of surprise has given them a slight advantage, but the Fomorians are warriors. They live in a culture where they expect to be attacked at any moment.

Catching them off-guard was never going to be easy or enough.

I spot Lore easily, his wide-brimmed hat practically shining as he slashes through guards on the rooftops with a manic cackle, blinking around their crossbow bolts and disabling them before they can aim at Caed, Drystan, and Jaro, who are battling their way towards us. Jaro’s shield can’t protect against iron, but he’s expanded it so widely that only longer weapons can reach him. Caed’s swords hover on the outside, slicing through attackers, and Drystan’s fire spreads like a carpet in all directions.

My heart flutters slightly with pride as I realise this is how they were always meant to be. Their magic fits together like pieces of a puzzle. If not for the headache that intensified the moment we crossed the waterfall, I’d join them, adding my spirits to the mix and Bree’s animals.

If I do, I’ll only be putting them at risk. I promised to save my powers until we were in the Deep Caves, where the only iron we need to worry about is the ore in the rocks. After what happened in Elfhame, none of my mates are keen for me to overexert myself.

Secretly, I’d resolved to break that promise if they were struggling. I needn’t have worried.

They’re handling themselves just fine.

The only one I can’t see is Wraith, but every so often I hear howls mixed with screams coming from the direction of the fortress, so I assume he’s simply having his fun. With any luck, he’s protecting Prae and my brothers.

Bree’s wings flare, disrupting the steady eddies of air around us as he starts to lower us towards the narrow stairs. We reunite with the rest of my Guard at the top step.

“Just when I thought the Deep Caves couldn’t get any cheerier,” Caed announces, spreading his arms wide as if introducing the others to the pit. One of his ghost swords cuts a Fomorian with a battleaxe in half behind him.

“It really adds to the atmosphere of the place,” Lore agrees, blinking beside us with a severed head in his hand. “I love the decorations.”

Cocking his head to one side, he raises the still-dripping skull over the yawning pit and… drops it.

“In what universe do you expect to be able to hear a splash in the middle of battle?” Jaro demands, shifting back with a huff.

“Oh, I didn’t want to see how deep it was.” Lore wipes his hand on his cap. “I just really, really wanted to drop something in the ginormous hole.”

Caed snorts, and Bree’s ears twitch in amusement, but the moment is lost when Drystan folds his arms and narrows the glowing orbs that pass for eyes in my direction. A second later, he points his finger at the ground in a motion that cannot be misinterpreted.

“I am absolutely not staying here,” I tell him, barely resisting the urge to stick my tongue out. “You need me to close the portal.”

I half expect Jaro to say something about Lore coming back for me when it’s safe, but he seems to value his pelt, because he returns to his wolf form and leads the way down the stairs. Not happy with following, Lore blinks ahead, then disappears and reappears a few flights down.

“Echo-o-o-o,” he calls, and Bree slaps his own forehead as he steals the sound a second too late.

“Well, there’s no way anyone down there missed that,” Caed whistles cheerily. “Race you to the bottom?”

Bree’s wings flare wide. “It won’t even be a race.”

The odd moment of levity lifts my spirits, giving me the courage to tense and release the muscles on my back, returning to the air as Caed steps off the edge, dropping like a stone into the darkness. Bree dives in a blur of black feathers after him. I’m not in as much of a hurry, keeping pace with Jaro and Drystan as they take multiple steps at a time.

By some miracle, whoever built these stairs managed to bring them out by the edge of the lake, saving us from having to swim. The new ledge is made slippery by the water, and I can’t see anything, so I grab Drystan’s sleeve, miming a flaring motion with my free hand.

It takes him a second to oblige, but I feel much better when three tiny balls of flame start to orbit our group, banishing the oppressive darkness that seems so much worse than it was before.

“Hey, púca,” Caed pants, climbing out of the water with soaking wet hair. “I won.”

He rolls onto the ledge, which I can now see is actually a roughly hewn path carved into the cave wall, landing on his back with a snort and a clank of armour.

Bree raises a single brow as his wings disappear in a cloud of ink. “And yet, I’m not the one who now reeks of stagnant lake water.”

Caed pretends to sniff himself, and even half manages to hide the grimace on his face. “But it’s so refreshing.”

“Well, you’ll enjoy an extra dip then.” Lore blinks beside him, kicking him back in with a splash and a devious grin.

I wait for Drystan to scold them and remind them that we’re here for a reason, but the more time that passes in silence, the lower my heart sinks. What little precious levity they summoned with their antics turns to sludge in my veins, and I turn back to the path, hand falling to Jaro’s fur in search of comfort.

I almost expect the Fomorians to have carved the path right down to the muddy beach where I washed up when I came here, but it comes to an abrupt halt a few yards in.

For a second, I wonder if we truly do have to swim, but when one of the flames reaches the end, it illuminates a gap carved into the rock.

“How do we find him?” I ask as we squeeze through and head along the ensuing passage.

My work with Kitarni on connecting to the magic beneath Faerie has kept me from being involved in a lot of the strategy meetings. I’ve been reliant on Jaro to catch me up each night, but those plans were focused on taking Fellgotha, and I’m not sure we ever covered what we’d do when we got down here. The caves are so vast…

“The tunnels are always shifting,” Caed admits, flicking away a stray tendril of something brown and slimy from his shoulder as he rejoins us. “But from what the refugees told Prae, Elatha ordered them to dig straight east, following the old legends. If we lose their trail, we’ll try to do the same.”

It’s not much of a plan, but I keep my criticism to myself, because we haven’t really got any other options. Kitarni seemed sure I’d be able to feel the disturbance in the fabric of the realm when I got close enough, but I’m not sensing anything.

“And the tunnel wyrms?” I check the charm in my pocket, making sure it’s still there.

Bree shrugs. “Caed says they hate fire and chickens. We have the former, but a certain redcap refuses to go and get the feathers we asked for.”

Lore blinks beneath me, hefting me onto his shoulders without warning so my head almost scrapes the ceiling. “Why would I want to scare away a snakey-kitty? I want to ride one.”

Goddess save us. “I’m not sure that’s possible,” I choke out.

Caed gives a huff of agreement. “Don’t worry, I’m fifty percent sure I managed to explain to the dour knight that big snake equals more fire.”

“If not, we’ll all laugh when he burns off the wolf’s dick later,” Lore pipes up.

Their complete lack of fear is actually encouraging. Or at least… it is until the entire cave rattles and groans, forcing my mates to brace themselves against the walls.

My shoulders hunch, jaw clenching as I wait for it to end. I spend every second that passes waiting for the rock to give out over my head, burying us, and Lore’s hands on my thighs tense as my fear pummels down the bond.

The tremor seems like it will never stop. The air grows thick with dust, and then…

It’s over. Just like that.

My Guard straightens, resuming course like nothing happened, and Lore’s tight grip on my thigh relaxes until he’s petting his mark over the fabric of my leggings.

The rest of him vibrates with excitement. He’s positively thrilled to be down here.

Many people have told me that Lore is mad. I’m not sure I truly believed them until this moment.

“How often does that happen?” Bree asks calmly, only for another quake to hit on the heels of the question.

This one is twice as long.

Caed’s throat bobs as he swallows, his swords appearing around us in a protective circle. “Not that often.”

“It could be the unstable portal,” I mumble hopefully; though truthfully, I doubt it.

“Or my father has pissed the wyrms off,” Caed finishes.

Neither bodes well for us.

“Let’s just hurry,” I finish, a chill skating down my spine as the tunnel breaks through into one of the forgotten halls.

The light of Drystan’s flames falls on a strange, lumpy shape on the shattered stone floor. Jaro’s wolf gets in the way before I can make out any features, but it doesn’t take a genius to realise it’s a dead body.

The wolf nudges the corpse, shifting it until we can all clearly see, despite his missing head, that the unfortunate male was once an ogre. I suck in a breath of damp, stale air, saddened despite how inevitable we all knew this was.

“If there are any fae left alive, we have to rescue them,” I say, silently vowing to guide the Wild Hunt across the sea to bring home every lost soul.

“Of course,” Bree promises, ears twitching as another rumble hits.

“He’s been dead a while,” Caed observes, joining Jaro. “A few days at least.”

My stomach turns, and I look away, hoping Lore isn’t about to join the two of them. Thankfully, the redcap is either uninterested in old blood or simply decides to take pity on me because he strides right past, following Drystan to the spot on the opposite wall where the tunnel resumes.

It’s not the only dead body we find. There are more, sometimes in groups of two or three, sometimes fae, sometimes Fomorian. I don’t think these are the only casualties, either, because we also pass splatters of dried blood on the walls.

“Tunnel wyrms don’t leave bodies,” Caed mutters, after we cross the dozenth abandoned corpse. “I’d bet my father used their deaths as motivation for the other fae and his soldiers.”

Keep going or die?

It fits, and I grind my teeth together in anger. Was killing them really that motivational? Or did it simply appease the Fomorian King’s vanity to inspire more fear?

The silence stretches after that, punctuated by the echoes of our footsteps in between rumbles.

And then, the inevitable happens.

“Dead end,” Bree whispers, tattooed fingers tracing lightly over the pile of boulders in front of us.

Indeed, the obviously hand-carved passage has collapsed, leaving us with two choices, left or right.

Worse… “I think we’re near some kind of iron,” I admit, fighting back nausea as the pounding in my head grows worse.

All heads snap towards me, and Caed curses. “Lore, put her down. There’s a seam right above you.”

When I’m on the ground, I glance up, gripping Lore for stability as the move makes my head swim. Sure enough, a reddish-brown vein traces through the otherwise grey ceiling exactly where we were standing. The tunnel wyrm that collapsed the original tunnel seems to have followed the line unerringly, making both directions equally unfavourable.

“We should go left,” Bree says, tongue flicking out to taste the air. “The scent of Fomorians is stronger that way.”

Jaro’s wolf circles back, coming to stand by my side like he’s waiting to catch me if I fall, and I relinquish Lore to take an unsteady step forward.

I can do this. It’s just a headache.

Lore draws a dagger, throwing it up in the air. “Excellent! This was starting to get boring.”