History of Fire (13 page)

“Your sister, she’s the queen of the Seelie, is she not?” Seritus swung again and my blade met his just in time. The twang vibrated in my hands, turning them numb and achy. I was breathing through my teeth to keep from hacking out my stomach’s contents. I would see this fight to the end, even if it meant certain death. I spat out blood-tinged saliva, and my lungs burned.

“Yeah. What of it?”

He actually snickered, but his face didn’t betray this. I could have sworn he was doing it for my benefit. What was he getting at?

“You can change his mind,” he offered. We circled each other again, probably only because he was fishing for something out of me.

“How would I do that?” If he thought I was falling for his stupid suggestions, he had another thing coming.
Thwack!
I slammed my sword against his, near the hilt. He barely noticed.

“He’s a foolish man with foolish aspirations.” Seritus dared to talk down on Oran? What the …?

Another hit, but this one took me by surprise after hearing what he was insinuating. The wide length of his blade whacked me just hard enough it felt like one of my bones cracked. Scrambling backward, I bounced on my feet, shaking off the biting pain.

He was trying to confuse me, catch me off guard. I had to be better than this.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” It was my turn to swing, and I managed to get him on the side with my blade. It caught fire to the small amount of tunic sticking out from under his armor where the scales were tied together, but he didn’t miss a step and put out the flames with one swift brush of his hand.

“I’m talking about offering a way to unite the courts.” Seritus frowned at me, looking suddenly like a tired old man.

Twang!
My hand turned numb, and my left arm was barely recovering from the last hit. I zigzagged across the clearing, jumping from foot to foot. This made me feel foolish, but it kept me away from his blade because it allowed me to move away more quickly. It also, however, tired me out even more.

This had to end soon, or I’d get myself killed from the exhaustion.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I huffed.

“Think about it.”

Smack!
He bunted me with the end of his sword when I attempted to swipe at his legs, but not as hard as he could have. Stars danced across my vision followed by a black tunneling effect that threatened to swallow me up. I shook my head and felt my feet give out as I stumbled to the ground. I hit with a muted thud, and the smell of moldy mulch mixed with damp earth filled my nostrils. I tried to get up and move, but my limbs wouldn’t cooperate. Moments passed before I could catch my bearings and shift my hands under me to lift up my torso. The world was oddly silent, and my vision was blurred.

Before I could get to my feet and search for my sword, I felt a hand wrap around my hair, knotting its fingers in my locks and yanking with ferocity. My scalp screamed in pain while I reached up to grab the hands twisted in my hair.

“Let me go!” I managed to call out as I struggled. I was sure it was Seritus who had me, but my vision was just clearing up, along with my hearing. The sudden jolt of noise and light was even harder to focus on with the cheering and screaming. I was getting my ass beaten and the Unseelie scum loved it.

In the periphery, I spotted the flash of metal from Seritus’s sword, held out to his side. Shit … was he going to decapitate me? No matter how hard I struggled to get out of his grasp, I failed miserably and hung there like a rag doll in his hands.

“You fool,” he whispered near my ear so only I could hear him. “You have two sisters. Offer one of them up to Oran, it doesn’t matter which one. He’s no idiot. He’ll want an alliance with the Seelie court. We’re all tired of this war. He wants to return to Faerie as much as any of these degenerates. Tell Oran this before I have to kill you.” His logic hit me at once, and I stopped my struggling. Seritus dropped me to the ground, letting go of my hair. I jerked my head up and scanned the crowd to find Oran watching my useless squirming with a mixture of disappointment and amusement.

What a freak. Time to end his party.

“Okay, okay!” I hollered, throwing my hands up as Seritus raised his sword, and the legions of warriors chanted “Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”

“I call for a truce!” I hissed. To his credit, Seritus lowered his weapon and waited. Finally, I managed to scream out at the self-proclaimed Unseelie king, “Oran … please … hear me out. I call for a truce. A truce between our courts.”

Seritus’s sword slammed into the ground beside me, sinking into the soft earth. I continued to gasp because my side was burning again. My muscles ached, and my head was especially killing me.

Oran got to his feet, and the arena of warriors became silent in one swift wave of his hand. At least he had his group well trained. They eagerly waited to see my demise, and most looked somewhat disappointed and angry. I struggled to get off my knees and up onto my feet. Paki ran out to catch me as I fell to the ground again. No one ran after to restrain him, which I hoped signaled that something would finally go our way.

The look he gave me as he hooked his arm underneath mine to help me up was one of pity and sorrow. My head was spinning, and I was sure I had a concussion. Blood seeped from a cut on my lip and on my right eyebrow, and there was most likely a missing chunk of scalp where my hair had been ripped out. Yep, I’m sure I was looking as far from man of the year as one could get.

With Paki to steady me, I was able to peer up toward Oran who was now standing with a spiteful glare aimed our way.

“What sort of truce are you offering?” His face twitched while his jaw ground down into his teeth, making it look like he might not have any left when he was done.

“Uh, well … you see,” I stuttered. Shit. Now I had to offer up one of my sisters. How was that going to work out when Shade was already married? There was Anna, but she was barely of age to marry. She was still too young, and I’d never turn her over to the likes of him.

“He told me he wants to offer a truce of the Faerie courts,” Seritus started without me, and I turned to glare at him with the nastiest death look I could manage without wincing in pain.

“Really? What sort of union do you propose, Benton?” Oran’s mouth upturned into a surly grin.

“I didn’t propose anything. I … he …” I pointed at Seritus. “He said to offer you up one of my sisters to unite the two courts, but neither of my sisters would ever marry you. Shade’s already married, and Anna would never accept you.”

Oran cocked his head as he watched me. I was sure I’d said something of interest, but I was ready to grab my sword off the ground and thrust it into the Unseelie leader’s chest.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, elemental. There are rules for truces here, unlike in your honorless society.” Oran started walking toward me and came to a stop a few feet ahead of us. I flicked my eyes to my sword, which was lying about three feet away to my left. Seritus’s sword stuck out of the ground but two feet to my right. It left me calculating which would be the better choice to pounce on if I needed to.

“It’s an old Faerie law that when the land is in jeopardy, alliances must be forged between the two faery courts. When this happens, it’s very possible to break any current bonds between fey lovers that bind royalty to facilitate a truce to keep Faerie safe.” Oran’s smile sent a cold, silvery thread of chills down my spine.

What?

Was that true? Oran couldn’t be trusted. I needed to confirm this with someone neutral or someone from the Seelie Realm. If it was true, what could it mean for Shade? This would seriously suck for her if it was true. He’d force Shade to marry him and break her heart.

“You’re lying.” I spat the remnants of blood from my mouth onto the ground.

Oran’s laugh echoed throughout the expanse of trees, bouncing off into the distance. No one was laughing with him. I could only feel for them since they were obviously afraid of him. Or not.

“Ah. To a mortal like yourself, these rules don’t apply. But Shade is not just mortal, is she? She’s bound by the rules of the Land of Faerie.”

Well ain’t that a downer?

“What do you want me to do?” My body shook, exhaustion, dehydration and blood loss, not to mention my woozy head, were all catching up to me. “I can ask Shade, but I’m sure she’ll turn you down. What then?”

Oran narrowed his eyes, looking thoughtful. After a moment, his eyes brightened, a new plan forming visibly on his face. It only caused me dread, and I didn’t want to hear or be part of any of it. “You’re in luck. You won’t be dying today. You’re our pass into Faerie so we can speak with her.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at this ridiculous proposition. If he thought either of my sisters would marry him to unite the courts, he was going to be severely disappointed. All I could do was shake my head.

Regardless, Oran folded his arms across his chest, looking calm and composed. “We’ll return you to her. If you’re our prisoner, we can return you to the queen in good faith, which allows me passage through the Seelie Court of Faerie. Then she will have to break her bonds to her husband and marry me.”

Man, this wasn’t looking good. I felt my face pale as I took a few steps toward my Empyrean blade. When he turned away to walk back to his makeshift throne, I bolted toward my sword, sliding across the damp ground feeling twigs, rocks and other tiny things tear up my knees. Just as my fingers clasped around the hilt of my blade, it came to life with an explosive rush of fire. But before I could get back to my feet, I felt another smack against the back of my head that sent the blade flying from my grasp. My body sprawled onto the ground, my face slamming into the rocky mulch. I barely registered anything as a looming shadow approached and peered distastefully down at me.

My eyes were still open, stunned as I tried to turn and see who had hit me. I got nothing but a brief glance of Seritus reaching toward me before my mind gave up and the black curtains fell, plunging me into darkness.

February 17th 1703

As luck would have it, I’ve met a talented silversmith from afar, from a land I’ve never heard of. He has agreed to make a most powerful weapon to complement my family’s fire element, one I alone can wield. I was startled to discover that he even knew of our abilities, but being from a land of magic, I do not underestimate his talent for such observations.

He called the weapon an Empyrean blade, and as far as I know, he is the only one who can make such a sword.

~Brendan

The feeling of movement under me jolted me awake. It felt like I’d been thrown into the bed of a carriage or wagon, but I wasn’t sure. I tried to blink away the light, but the brightness of the day made me squeeze them shut again right away. My entire body felt like it’d been hit by a train, tossed to the side and rolled down a hill. Mentally taking stock of my injuries, I wondered just how broken I was and how it was possible I was still alive.

Or maybe this was hell. In heaven, things wouldn’t hurt like that, right? I’d be euphoric, maybe flapping some strong, gorgeous wings. Instead I was tied at the wrists and being carried in the back of a wagon that was knocking me about so much I wanted to heave. This business of feeling like utter crap was getting old in a hurry.

It smelled like a dirty horse and coppery, like the blood caked on my face. I blinked until my eyes focused on the world around me, finding a sobering view. I was tied to one of the supports of the wagon by a cord connected to the rope binding my wrists. Sitting up with my head pressed against the wooden siding of the wagon, I breathed slowly, hoping the dizziness would fade. I wasn’t surprised that it didn’t help.

The wagon had a covering that kept the sun from shining right into my eyes and seemed to be used to store food and water barrels. It was half full, but I didn’t yet notice that I wasn’t alone, for I was afraid to sit up. It would definitely make me hurl, and I couldn’t even hold my head with my hands tied up the way they were. When one particular nasty wave of nausea hit me, I managed to crawl to the end of the wagon, haul my body partially over the back end until the rope that held me went taut, and threw up.

I probably needed a doctor. The dizziness wouldn’t subside, so I hung there, peering off the back end of the wagon, catching the nasty glares of Unseelie soldiers on foot and on horseback as they avoided the puddle of puke I’d left for them to dodge. I focused on the sounds emanating from around me and caught half glimpses of the surrounding brittle woods, and a long, rocky dirt road. After a while I half dozed under the late afternoon sun blaring down on us, enjoying the heat and warmth of it on my cold soul.

Dozens of horse hoofs clicked around me, and the smell of sweat and soot mixed along with manure and body odor made me want to stuff hay up my nose. I heard voices chattering calmly around me, as if taking a Sunday afternoon ride through the country was commonplace for treacherous Unseelie Sluagh warriors. There was dirt everywhere, on everything, even on the spindly trees that rose up around us. The land was mostly flat, but occasionally we dipped or ascended small hills. The jolting ride made my head ache like nobody’s business.

It began to look far too familiar as the forest thickened, and the land began to smell more sweet and vibrant. It was downright beginning to freshen up despite the company of the filthy riders surrounding me.

I slowly moved my arms up under my head. They felt numb from dangling for hours, and the pain from my injuries made me wince and want to groan aloud, but I swallowed it back.

“Benton?” A familiar voice came from outside the wagon, so I turned my head as slowly as it would allow me. It was a relief to find Paki riding beside the wagon. He was also tied up, but anchored to the horse. He looked exhausted but in good health. At least one of us was well enough to know what was going on.

“Paki.” I threw him a weak smile. “What’s going on? How long have I been out of it?” My throat felt like it was coated in sawdust, and my lips cracked when they moved. I wanted to sit up, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I shifted as best I could and listened for his answer.

“It’s been almost two days, sir.” He motioned to the burnt orange sky. “It’s almost nightfall again. The time for the dark creatures to ascend upon us.” Paki pulled at the reins of his horse to keep it even with the wagon. “Here, you need to drink.” He tossed me a canteen he’d had hung around his neck. Mighty nice of the Unseelie to hydrate their prisoners. They hadn’t seemed concerned that I might die in the wagon.

“Thanks, man.”

I grasped the screw top, slowly unseating it, and dumped some water on my tongue. I coughed and sputtered on it at first, but eventually got the hang of swallowing again. I finally managed to sit up even more and peered around.

We were in a caravan of some sort with Unseelie soldiers behind and in front of us as far as the eye could see. I groaned as I spotted the approaching Scren Palace, a few miles ahead. I’d missed most of the trip but could feel every mile embedded into every crevice of my body.

“So what’s going on now?”

“We’re prisoners of Oran. They’re escorting us back because it allows him passage to the Scren Palace through Faerie without repercussions. He’s going to propose to the queen to unite the courts.”

I shook my head. “Shade will never break her vows to Dylan. He’s barking up the wrong tree.”

Paki stared somberly ahead. His frown couldn’t have been tighter if he’d just been told Oran was after his own daughter. “I’m afraid it won’t matter. It’s a fairly simple rule of the land and must be followed.”

“Damn … he can really make her break her vows?” I frowned, fighting the hopelessness away. “Got to figure something out.”

Paki’s liquid dark eyes didn’t look at me but instead stared at his home, the Scren Palace. “Oran can make her marry him, and he will. Faerie has laws in place to keep its integrity. Unfortunately, he’s in the right. There’s no hope.”

I thought about his words for few moments, feeling the same despair sneaking into me, the same thing I’d felt when I had faced Seritus. I didn’t want to hear how we’d already lost this fight. We had to hope, somehow, or everything was already lost. There had to be something that could help us. Or someone.

I scanned the endless stream of Unseelie for the Elder King Seritus. At least he seemed able to manipulate Oran a bit. I was still alive, wasn’t I? It made me wonder what his ulterior motive was. There always was one when it came to the Unseelie. There never was a straightforward faery now that I thought about it. Still, he could have had me killed when he knocked me out. But I was alive, a prisoner of the Unseelie. If he hadn’t wanted me dead, why had he steered Oran into this direction in the first place? What was in it for him?

A flicker to my side made me glance into the forest. I could’ve sworn I’d seen something, but try as I might, I saw no other movement. Was I seeing things now? A tiny prickle of magic touched me, and I straightened up to concentrate on grasping onto it with what little magic I could wrangle. When I finally managed to lock onto it, it tightened around me and began infusing me with a thin but potent thread of healing magic.

Small sparks of energy hummed through it and into my skin, spreading across my body like worker ants hurrying to repair the damage. My arm had a crack in the radial bone, near my wrist, where it was purple and swollen. The stream of magic pumped into it and got to work fixing the break.

I hissed quietly as the bone snapped together and the swelling began to recede. The work it took to keep my face straight as the excruciating pain ripped through my arm while the bone regrew and straightened was enough to get me sweating. My shirt was drenched in no time, making the dirt on it dark and streaky. Still, it was hard to tell I was soaked, since I was filthy and streaked with blood and forest debris. I leaned forward, steadying myself on the side of the wagon as I felt the blood drain from my face.

Who was providing me with this healing magic? I laid my head against the wooden frame of the wagon and peered out from the covering into the thick of the woods, hoping to catch more than the sliver of magic connecting me to the person helping me.

Don’t look for us, you won’t see anything.

I jerked. I knew the voice speaking in my head right now.
Sary? But how?

Shade knows what’s going on; she’s preparing for your arrival. Nyol and Nautilus discovered you’d been taken prisoner. Braelynn and I are here to help you heal. Stay where you are, don’t try anything funny. The palace is preparing. There will be war.

That’s just great. I cringed and sucked in a breath again as my arm finished healing and my lips began to mend. There was crusty, dried blood all over my face, and I was sure I looked frightful with my hair mussed up and my clothes torn. Still, I was relieved to hear from the Vyn princess.

What do you want me to do?
I asked her. It was weird, this talking inside my head. Now I knew how Shade felt her entire life, plagued by spirit guides until she managed to banish them. Entirely accidental, but still. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but I managed to keep my face straight as Sary continued to talk to me.

Just heal. We’ll figure out a plan once Oran brings you inside the gates of the Scren. Oh, try not to scream, there’s an infection in the cut on your back.

A searing stab hit me where Seritus had cut my back. My face screwed up as I bit down on my tongue to keep from yelling out. The wound began to feel wet, like blood was pouring from it again, down my back and onto the top of my jeans. After a moment, it stopped bleeding and a cooling sensation took over, giving me relief as I panted and tried to relax. I wasn’t liking my mortal body at the moment, even if it was stronger than a regular human’s. I felt vulnerable against Oran’s army, weak and fragile. I’d been nothing but scum under Seritus’s boot when he’d smashed me down without effort. I stared ahead as my breathing returned to normal and Sary and Braelynn’s magic withdrew, leaving me pain-free for a moment, but in a sour, glum mood.

I was going to have to up my training and fighting skills. I was good, but I was nothing compared to the stronger, older faeries. This fact alone forced me into an even crankier mood.

Stay alive. We’ll see you soon.
Sary cut me off, and the feel of her magic retreating left me empty instead of shiny and new. My body wasn’t made to be healed by faery magic, but she didn’t know that. My uncle Brendan had noted this in his grimoire, how elementals suffered from ill effects from being exposed too long to faery magic. Especially healing magic. It wasn’t lethal and wouldn’t kill us, but it took a few days to feel normal again after prolonged exposure to large doses of it. I was hating this fact right now, because my stomach was not happy, still bubbling and lurching about even though I’d had nothing to eat for over a day and had heaved out what was left of the bile and fluid in it.

At least my pain had receded. Had to look on the bright side, right?