Page 35 of The Shadow Path (Shadowlands #2)
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
D iarmuid mac Lir, the son of the sea god, strode across the land, and beneath his feet the water rose up, splashing against his legs as he marched toward his half brother.
“So the wandering bastard returns.” Cian sneered at his younger brother, dismounted from his horse, and walked toward Dru, with each step growing in stature until his height was even greater than the dark prince’s.
His arms grew long, and from his right hand, a gold-tipped spear emerged.
“We will end this.” Cian’s voice filled the air everywhere. “You and me.”
“Gladly.” Dru reached into his black cloak and drew out a silver sword. “This fight was always and only between you and me.”
The wild fae hung back as the two sons of Queen Aine wrestled for power in the stone circle where the oldest humans had prayed.
The wolves came to ring around the fight, but the remaining fae hung back, watching the two princes meet to decide their fate.
Dru lifted his sword and swung, but Cian struck first, his gold spear stabbing Dru just underneath his ribs.
Duncan hissed, but Carys’s attention wasn’t fixed on the battling fae princes. She kept one eye on them and grabbed Duncan’s hand, keeping low as they scuttled behind the hills below the éiren army.
“What are we doing?” Duncan asked.
“Looking for Finola.” She was searching for Finola’s guards as the fae and the human armies’ attention was fixed on the battle between Dru and Cian. She hadn’t missed the look of rage that the crown princess had sent her mother’s consort.
“I have a feeling there’s no love lost between Finola and Cian.” She spotted the crown princess watching the battle with two tall knights on either side of her.
Cadell . She could feel the dragon circling overhead and knew he was dying to fly down and pluck her off the field where she was surrounded by soldiers.
Nêrys, there are too many people. Run toward the Anglian line and ? —
Did Seren know Princess Finola?
The dragon was silent.
Cadell!
You need to leave the battle. The situation is volatile, and I cannot protect you on the ground.
Did Seren know Finola?
Yes, they met on many occasions, and Seren had great respect for her.
“Okay.” Carys breathed out slowly. “Seren knew Finola.”
“What does that mean?” Duncan muttered as they crouched behind a rock. “I don’t need to remind you that you are not your Shadowkin.”
Carys, I am coming down to meet you. Tell Duncan to stay with you until I am there!
“No!” She turned her head up to the sky. Stay overhead. Watch us. Cover us from above.
Nêrys—
Please trust me. She grabbed Duncan’s hand and looked at him. “Trust me.”
“What are you going to do?” Duncan whispered. “Don’t be a fool, Carys.”
“Seren knew Finola. She respected her. Me looking like a dead woman might just shock her into giving me a moment before her guards start shooting.”
Before Duncan could grab her or Cadell could yell more in her brain, Carys rushed toward the éiren lines, waving her hands over her head.
“Hey!” she shouted. “He-ey! I need to talk to Finola!”
She only got about twenty yards before soldiers grabbed her and wrestled her arms behind her back.
“I’m not fighting!” Carys shouted. “I just want to talk.”
Duncan came roaring up behind her with his sword drawn. “Carys!”
“Put it away!” Carys spoke as quickly as she could. “I’m Lady Carys Morgan, nêrys ddraig of Cymru, niece of King Dafydd!” She nearly fell over as the duel between Cian and Dru raged in the distance and the ground rocked with the force of their blows.
A soldier grabbed her and put a knife to her throat.
“Lady Carys Morgan!” Her heart was pounding out of her chest. “Nêrys ddraig!”
The soldier holding her was confused. His knife eased off her neck. “Cymrais?”
“Lady Carys,” she said again. “Nêr ddraig.” The soldiers only spoke éiren of course. She pointed to the sky. “Dragon! Ddraig.” She pounded a fist against the leather armor she wore. “Nêr ddraig.”
A few moments later, a knight in worn chain mail and a green-and-gold surcoat walked toward her and Duncan, speaking English. “You are a Cymric dragon lord and wish to speak with the crown princess?” His eyes were lined, and silver sprinkled his dark hair. His jaw was rough with stubble, and he wore a signet ring on his left hand.
An older knight, a man of some standing, and one with experience. It was exactly the kind of advisor Carys had been hoping to meet.
The ground rumbled again, and a tree shot up between Dru and Cian, its leaf-covered branches reaching out to try to wrap around Dru.
The knight’s eyes went wide, but he forced them back to Carys. “What does a dragon rider of Cymru want with our princess?”
Dru spun around, slashing at the tree and gripping the trunk as he ripped the living tree from the soil.
Carys looked the knight dead in the eye and kept her voice low. “I have a feeling that you and your princess and all your soldiers are really confused right now, and I would like to tell you what is going on.”
The giant birch tree that was attacking Dru groaned and twisted before it crumbled and dissolved into dust.
The wild fae cheered, but Carys saw the remnants of the Fomorians crawling in the distance, heading toward Cian and Dru as the two fae princes battled.
“Please,” Carys said. “For the sake of the Queens’ Pact, take me to Princess Finola.”
The knight didn’t say anything, but she could tell by the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes that he was more than a little confused by everything that was going on.
“Sir.” Carys spoke as calmly as she could manage. “I am trying to stop a war.”
The tall man looked at Duncan. “And Prince Lachlan?”
“Oh, I’m not him.” Duncan shook his head, and the men holding him loosened their grasp. “I’m his Brightkin.”
“I see.” The man might have said that, but he clearly didn’t know what was happening. “Come with me.” He lifted his chin at the men holding them and said, “I will take them.” He held his hand out to Duncan. “Your sword, sir.”
Duncan looked at Carys, who nodded.
He handed over his steel blade, and the older knight took it.
“This is steel,” he said in a low voice.
“Yes, it is.”
The knight looked at Duncan with no little curiosity, but as the clash of fae swords continued in the background and cheers rose from the hills overlooking the battle, he urged them forward. “Come with me.”
On the ridge overlooking two giant, dueling fae, Princess Finola of Laigin, crown princess of the kingdom of éire and high commander of their army, was bending over a twelve-foot line of scorched earth at the front of her troops, walking among the charred bodies of dead horses, cavalry riders, and cloaked fae sorcerers who were nothing but ash.
Burned and injured soldiers were sitting on the ground, tended by healers and watchful brothers and sisters in arms.
Carys felt a knot of dread when she saw the dead and injured.
Cadell?
Fire burns, Nêrys. War kills.
I know.
Whether they were enchanted or not, Carys’s heart ached from the loss of life.
“Princess Finola?” the knight called.
Finola looked up, and her eyes went wide. “Seren?”
“No.” Carys raised her hands. “I’m not?—”
“They said you were dead.” Finola stalked toward her. “What is going on?” Her eyes went to Duncan. “Lachlan, what the hell?—”
“Not Seren,” Carys said, holding her hands higher. “Not Lachlan either. But I am Seren’s Brightkin, and Cadell?—”
“Cadell did this.” Finola’s face twisted in anger. “Cadell of Eryri did this to my people!”
“I know and I am?—”
Finola shouted, “ A dragon attack is an act of war. ”
“So is invading Anglia!” Carys shouted, trying to get the woman’s attention. “So is stealing children.”
Finola halted. Her mouth dropped open, and then she snapped her jaw shut and stepped so close that Carys felt the woman’s breath on her face.
“Back!” Finola shouted at her men.
“Princess Finola?—”
“Get back!”
The men stepped away, leaving Finola and Carys nose to nose.
“What the fuck is going on?” the princess whispered. “If you’re not Seren, who are you? Why do you wear Seren’s face and the armor of a dragon lord? Are you fae?”
“I am not fae; I am Seren’s Brightkin and I am bonded to her dragon.”
Finola was a tall woman. She stared down her nose at Carys. “Not possible.”
“Cadell laid down fire to kill the fae mages who were enchanting your army,” Carys whispered. “There was no way that he could avoid the others. Look around you, Princess Finola. You are on the Saris Plain in Southern Anglia. Cian brought your army by boat and marched you here while the fae sorcerers kept you enchanted?—”
“That’s not possible.”
“It was the strongest magic I’ve ever seen,” Carys continued swiftly. “Look at the land in front of you,” Carys hissed. “Look at the wolves, the wild fae, the human soldiers, and all the dead.”
Finola was silent.
“Your father?—”
“Cian is not my father,” Finola snapped.
“Your mother’s consort was about to march you and your army into battle against Anglian troops, and you wouldn’t have even known it was happening,” Carys whispered. “We had to break the enchantment.”
“Why are the Anglian forces arrayed against us? We are allies of Anglia.”
Carys’s heart sank. “Do you even know about the children?”
Finola stepped back. “ What children?”
“You and King Harold have been drawn into a fight that belongs to those two fae princes.” Carys pointed over her shoulder. “Cian tried to use you to break the Queens’ Pact, but this battle is not yours. It’s not Harold’s. This battle is between Cian and Dru to see who will control the fae of Briton.” She let out a breath. “And that is all this is about.”
Finola looked around, and Carys knew she’d been right. The woman had no idea what was happening, but now she had an army behind her, and she needed to regain control.
The fae commanders were dead. The sorcerers were ashes.
The princess was back in charge of her army.
Princess Finola mounted her horse and spoke quietly to her commanders, who fanned out across the ridge.
The princess shouted something over the line of troops, and those within earshot cheered. Then she spoke again at longer length. After she finished, her soldiers fell silent, murmuring among themselves, but Finola turned to face the battle between Dru and Cian, her face a stoic mask.
Duncan walked over to her, and Carys ran to his arms, holding on as Dru and Cian fought and the earth itself seemed to weep from the blood spilled between them.
Dru bled silver from his head, his pierced side, and a long slash across his neck.
Cian’s blood was a shimmering gold, and he was in worse shape than Dru. His right leg was weeping blood, and he leaned to the left, hardly able to stand.
The older knight who’d been holding Duncan walked over to translate. “The princess told the army that Prince Cian of Temris has been challenged for the rule of the fae throne,” he said. “But that since this was a rightful challenge on the sacred ground of Saris Plain, where the offerings to the old gods were given, we must watch in witness with our Anglian brothers and sisters. That we must respect the judgment of the gods, who will declare the winner.”
“Dru will win,” Duncan said. “Is your princess prepared to recognize the reign of Diarmuid mac Lir?”
The man’s eyes flashed with derision. “That’s fae business, human. No business of mine.”
Carys turned her eyes back to the stone circle and realized Duncan was right.
Dru was going to win.
Cian looked faded and broken, and with every strike of Dru’s silver sword, every roar from the wild fae around him, the dark prince grew taller, greater, more and more powerful.
The red crown on his head dripped with silver blood, and every place his blood dropped to the grass, a pool of water formed until the plain itself appeared like a shallow sea reflecting the stormy sky.
Clouds gathered over the plain, and a swift darkness covered the land. The watery shroud opened and rain began to fall, but when it touched Carys’s lips, it was seawater that touched her tongue.
Cian of Temris stumbled back, then fell forward, dropping to his knees as darkness covered the land.
“Cian, son of Elatha, old god of light.” Dru’s voice was an echo like thunder over the sea. “Don’t you know you are in the Shadowlands?” Dru’s smile was wicked as he drew his sword back. “You have no power here.”
With one stroke, the black-haired fae swung his sword, and Cian’s head fell to the ground.
Gold blood poured from his body, and his blood watered the land.
In the distance, the last of the Fomorians howled in anger, leaping over their dead and driving their monstrous and mangled bodies toward Dru and the wild fae army.
The wolves turned and lined up, the Anglian and Alban armies turned toward the awakened foe, and the éiren armies—newly awake to the Fomorian threat—began to beat their shields as low, droning horns sounded from behind them.
The king of the fae held up a hand, then bent down, touched the watery surface of Saris Plain, and Carys saw his mouth move as he spoke to the water.
Lightning flashed and thunder ripped the sky. With the fae king bent down, the ground burst open and the Great Serpent, its golden-brown scales shimmering in the flashes of lightning, burst from the watery ground and aimed itself toward the last of the Fomorian army.
His body was the length of a city block, as giant as a great whale, and as his mouth gaped open, Carys saw the jaws lined with two rows of vicious, serrated teeth.
The serpent slithered over the grassy plain as water poured from the sky, and then it opened its great jaws and swallowed the last of the monsters in a single, violent gulp.
“Fuck me,” Duncan muttered. “That’s something you don’t see every day.”
Every human on Saris Plain was frozen as the massive serpent turned, its body gliding smoothly over the grassy hills and the watery rills, passing by the Anglian armies, the various fae, and all the staring wolves.
After a pause, the wolves threw their heads back and howled in triumph.
A moment later, the Great Serpent of London twisted his great scaled body, slid into a massive pool of water near the fae king’s feet, and disappeared from sight.
In the middle of the howling and ferocious cheers of the wild fae army, Dru spoke words that whispered across Carys’s ears, then slipped away without leaving footprints.