Page 12 of Through the Veil (Endangered Fae #2)

Then he felt the tug on the currents of magic as the Fomorian gathered for a strike, and he had no more time to wonder. The river, so tranquil a moment before, sprouted whitecaps, its gentle murmur growing to a roar. A wall of water reared up and raced across the river toward him.

With a terrified cry, Diego flung up his hands, reacting out of pure instinct.

The wind rushed to him, a boom sounding as his displacement of air created a vacuum.

A shield of air met the oncoming fifteen-foot wave.

For a moment, the wave halted, churning mid-stream like some bizarre, nightmare fountain, then it collapsed with a crash back into the riverbed.

Panting, Diego fought against the urge to flee.

This was a whole lot scarier than he could have imagined.

Unlike the fae, who could regenerate to a certain degree, if he drowned or had his back broken, he would be dead.

Not merely dead, but really, most sincerely dead, as the Munchkin coroner had so eloquently put it.

The Fomorian champion stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He seemed to be waiting, so Diego had to assume it was his turn.

He reached out for the magic of the Otherworld, more accessible and of a different flavor than the human world, and gathered the air to him more gradually.

He fashioned a ball the size of a wheelbarrow, heated the air until the ball burst into brilliant red flames, then hurled his fiery missile at his opponent.

For a moment, Diego thought it might hit when the Fomorian cringed and retreated a step. But the dark champion caught himself in time and flung up a ball of water to intercept, extinguishing the fireball.

The Fomorian stood with his fists clenched at his sides, unmoving for several long breaths. Dios, I wish I knew what he was thinking…

Both black-clad arms jerked up as if flinging something.

Diego heard the whistling and glanced up in time to see the rocks hurtling toward him.

He backpedaled and threw up another shield of air.

The basketball-sized rocks tumbled into the water, and Diego drew a breath, only to find another pair of rocks heading for his head.

After four of these barrages, a prickle of adrenaline-charged anger rose up his spine.

This was ridiculous and getting them nowhere.

He shaped his air shield into a dome around him and reached into the currents for the strongest flows, pulling the energy to him from the trees and the river and the very ground beneath his feet.

There were things that had to be settled between the fae courts, things that had to be seen to. It was time to end this.

Finn huffed in frustration as the sidhe champion pulled the air all the way around him.

He thought surely some of the rocks would have found their target, that if he threw enough at once, he could distract the sidhe enough to get in a good strike.

Perhaps he could reach under the river and shake the earth beneath his feet, knock him off balance.

Then the sidhe champion pulled on the flows so strongly, Finn’s heart lurched. He had never felt such frightening power, not since…

His opponent began to form the lightning, not in a spear as Lugh would have, but in a lance. Only one lightning lance-maker existed in his long memory. It had to be.

“Diego? Diego!” He called out in his mind but there was no response. “Ach, thunder-blasted helmet!” He fumbled with the strap and flung it away from him just as the figure across the river hurled the lance.

Diego flung the lightning at the same moment the Fomorian tossed away his helmet, too late to call back the strike. He watched in horror as a thick fall of blue-black hair tumbled from that helmet and a familiar, beloved face appeared amidst the wind-whipped tresses.

“Finn! Dios ayudame, no!”

The lance struck even as he cried out. The far side of the river disappeared in a blinding flash of light. When Diego’s vision cleared, Finn lay sprawled against a tree trunk twenty feet back from where he had stood.

“Oh, God, no,” Diego whispered, unable to draw a full breath. He threw his helmet off as he ran down the bank and through the knee-deep water. “No, no, no, no!”

The Fomorians made way for him, milling about in confusion, as he raced up the bank to Finn’s side.

“ Querido, mi amor, speak to me,” he pleaded as he dropped to his knees and put his ear to Finn’s chest. “Mierda! ” Either there was no heartbeat, or he couldn’t hear it through the armor Finn wore.

Water, he had to get Finn to the water. Whatever was broken, he could put himself back together as long as he had water.

Diego slid his arms under Finn’s limp frame and lifted him, opting for speed over caution.

Only when he knelt in the river with Finn mostly submerged across his lap did he dissolve into tears.

“Oh, God…what have I done? Finn…my poor Finn…”

Whispers reached him from the riverbanks. “He weeps for his opponent. It is like Cuchulainn and Ferdiad. What have we done?”

Diego lifted his tear-stained face and looked around at all the stunned expressions.

Anger and sorrow welled up in him until his body could no longer contain it.

“You selfish bastards! All of you! Your stupid squabbles, your insistence on tradition and your damn, stubborn pride! No one could ask the question? Is Finn with you? Have you seen a human? No one thought there might be other solutions than this?”

Danu, back in her sidhe form, spoke from the bank. “Diego, we—”

“No! I don’t want to hear it! Go away, all of you! Leave us in peace!”

He turned back to Finn to gather him in his arms, rocking and weeping. The leaves rustled on either side of the bank as both fae courts slunk away.