Spark - ARC (26 page)

“Spark!”

With a cry of pain, Aran heaved himself up and threw himself into the path of danger, covering her body with his own. She felt the sickening thud of impact as the knight’s blow connected. Aran stiffened and cried out again. Then, slowly, his head dropped to her shoulder, his whole body going limp. She could feel the wetness of his blood seeping into her vest.

“No!” Spark’s voice broke on the word. It couldn’t end like this.

“Forgive me, my queen, for robbing you of your sacrifice,” the Black Knight said.

“Fear not.” The queen ran her long pale fingers along the length of her thorn. “There is another.”

The queen gave Spark a look that turned her blood to pure ice. Aran lay unmoving across her, pinning her to the ground. They’d failed. Hot tears ran from the corners of her eyes.

They were both going to die there, in the Realm of Faerie, all their dreams undone.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

M
oving like the wind over dark water, the queen knelt beside Spark.

“Farewell, mortal girl,” she said, raising her black thorn.

Spark braced herself for the queen’s strike. She’d rather die knowing it was coming.

“STOP!”

Five figures sprang from the air in the middle of the clearing. In the lead was a silver-armored knight, followed by a blue-robed mage girl, a bearded healing priest, a black-clad martial artist, and a mercenary wearing a bronze breastplate.

With a hiss of anger, the Dark Queen brought the thorn down towards Spark’s chest. The knight sprinted forward, deflecting the blow, while the mage and healer hauled Spark and Aran away from the Dark Queen.

Tears of hope blurred Spark’s vision. The rest of the Feyguard had arrived just in time.

“Glad to see you guys,” she said. “Aran’s hurt.”

“On it,” Zeg said, green light pouring from his fingertips to Aran’s wound. “You two get in there. Jennet, your dad needs a hand.”

Jennet helped Spark scramble up, then sent a bolt of power across the clearing, hitting the goblin that was sparring with Mr. Carter.

Metal clanged as Roy and the Black Knight circled one another, Roy’s bronze armor a brilliant foil for the knight’s darkness.

In the center of the clearing, Tam faced off against the queen, dodging her magical attacks but unable to get close enough to land a strike with his sword.

“Flame her,” Jennet said, raising her mage staff.

Spark called up her wall of fire, relieved to see that her spells had recharged, and the two of them sent their dual blasts toward the queen.

Flames engulfed her, and Tam danced back, lifting his shield. The fire reflected from its polished surface, bright orange. The queen laughed, then turned insubstantial as smoke, her black dress swirling about her.

Tam yelled and sliced his sword through that wisp of blackness. His only reward was more laughter, cold as frost.

At the edge of the clearing, a gang of goblins advanced on Zeg and Aran. Spark let out a relieved breath when she saw Aran was sitting up, his eyes open. Jennet’s dad joined them, and he and Zeg began dispatching the redcaps.

A clang of sword hitting armor brought her attention back to Roy’s battle. The Black Knight was pressing Roy hard. She needed some distance, and a clearer sightline to get a good shot. She needed…

Yes.
The grav-board was still in her game inventory. Spark summoned it and leaped onto the deck. With a faint whine, the board lifted. She whipped out her bow and nocked an arrow, sighting down it to the knight’s black helm. This time, she was making that shot—especially while Tam and Jennet kept the queen distracted.

Aim. Pull. Release.

It was a flawless shot—until Roy leaped into the arrow’s path.

“Roy, duck!” she yelled, her lungs squeezing with sick fear.

He did, throwing himself flat without a moment’s hesitation. Thank God. The knight looked up, and the arrow flew perfectly through the eye slit.

The knight let out an immense bellow and fell to his knees. He shook, and the clearing shuddered with him, the trees creaking as a rain of silver leaves stormed down. Slowly, he toppled, his black armor dull against the brilliant green mosses.

“Curse you, mortals!” the queen cried, re-materializing in the center of the clearing.

Her expression terrible with wrath, she passed one hand over her wounded knight, blue power flowing in its wake. He disappeared. With that, the rest of the fey folk fled until only the Dark Queen was left.

“You shall pay for this day,” she said, her voice harder than diamonds.

She narrowed her eyes, sweeping her gaze over the Feyguard, and Spark shivered at the fury in those depths.

Then she was gone, and the humans were alone in the clearing, ankle deep in a silver wash of fallen leaves.

Almost alone. One member of the court remained, his form almost insubstantial among the trees. The edge of night retreated, the stars fading into pearly twilight.

“Thomas!” Jennet cried, dashing to the ghostly figure. “I didn’t know you were in the battle.”

He enfolded her in an embrace, then let go. “I could not aid you, but neither could I fight beside the court. My part is to observe, and to scribe the songs and sagas of what has befallen upon this day. Bitter and sweet as it may be.”

“Hey,” Aran said, stepping forward. “I owe you—”

Thomas held up his hand. “There is no debt between us, BlackWing. I should have spoken far earlier, and bear equal blame for what occurred. My only defense is that I am beginning to forget the fiery passions that move the human heart.”

The sorrow in his voice made Spark swallow in sympathy.

“Please, come back with us,” Jennet said, her voice nearly breaking. “Surely there’s some way.”

“Jen.” Her dad moved to stand beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders. “We’ve been through this before. We have to let him go.”

Thomas sighed, like an autumn wind bearing the last fallen leaf. “My love for you both remains, in all worlds. But I must depart. Farewell, Feyguard.”

He lifted his hand, his form already fading until there was nothing but pale-barked trees where he’d been standing.

For a moment, they all looked at one another. They’d won, though it didn’t quite feel like a victory.

“You were supposed to get some rest,” Spark said to Roy. Still, she was glad he hadn’t listened. It had taken all of them to beat back the Dark Queen.

“Did you see Puck as you all came in?” Aran asked.

“No,” Tam said, glancing at him. “I take it you’re the one Spark came to rescue.”

“Yeah.” Aran grimaced. “I owe you guys my thanks—and an apology. This was my fault.”

Roy crossed his arms. “So, what’s stopping you from opening the gateway again? Or telling somebody else how to do it?”

“A lot of things.” Aran looked at Spark, then away. “I don’t need to be convinced that the Dark Court entering our world means serious trouble. Also, I triple-encrypted the code. Nobody else could hack that.”

“Are you certain?” Mr. Carter stepped forward, studying Aran.

“Yeah.” Aran winced, fingers going to his stomach.

“Zeg, I thought you healed him,” Spark said.

“His injury was pretty bad. I poured all my healing power into him, and he barely pulled through.”

Jennet set her hand on Spark’s arm. “You should get him back into the real world. I assume you’re simming together?”

“Yes.”

“Can we trust him?” Tam asked, glancing at Aran.

Though he wanted to defend himself, Aran needed to hear Spark’s opinion. He tried not to twitch with impatience as she chewed her lower lip, and he tried not to twitch with impatience.

“Yes,” she finally said. “He tried to save me by sacrificing himself.”

Jennet and Tam shared a look, and then Jennet smiled.

“That’s good enough for me,” she said.

“Fine,” Tam said.

Roy frowned, but it looked like he was done arguing.

“All right, team,” Mr. Carter said. “Good job. I hope we don’t have to do it again soon.”

“The gateway’s back to normal,” Tam said. “Which means we’re back to regular guard duty.”

“Whatever that is.” Spark crossed her arms. “The Elder Fey are too cryptic.”

“They have their own rules,” Jennet said. “Our job is to keep people from stumbling into the realm, or get them out again if they do.”

“Like that always works.” Spark shot Aran a glance.

“I’m a special case,” he said.

“I’d say.” Roy’s voice was dry.

“I’m late to work,” Mr. Carter said, tilting his wrist, then shaking his head as he realized his avatar didn’t have a watch.

“Me too,” Zeg said. “Take care, everybody.”

His character winked out, and Mr. Carter’s followed. Roy gave Spark a last, regret-filled look, and was gone. Tam hugged her, then shook Aran’s hand. Jennet did him one better, and gave hugs all around.

Then it was just Spark and Aran in the faerie ring. He bent forward, one arm held tightly across his middle.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

And then they had some serious talking to do.

She lifted her finger in the command to log out, then held her breath.
Please, don’t let us be trapped in the Dark Realm.
Thankfully, the air about her swirled, motes of golden light whirling until she was dizzy.

The clearing wavered and disappeared. The bright light faded, but still strobed oddly, and a high, screeching noise penetrated her gaming helmet.

Spark ripped off her helmet, then doubled over, coughing. The hotel conference room was filled with smoke. The fire alarm blared, lights flashing. She glanced around, heartbeat racing. It was too smoky to see where the fire was coming from.

“Aran!” she called.

She could barely make out his form through the haze, still sprawled in his sim chair. Fear pounded inside her skull—had Zeg’s heals failed? She darted over and squeezed his shoulder.

“Wake up!”

She yanked up his blood-covered shirt, then sagged with relief. No gaping wounds, only a scar running across his ribs, a faint silver line against his dusky skin. He was still breathing.

Quickly, she stripped off his helmet and gloves and pulled him out of the chair. He was heavy, and she didn’t get him down to the floor as gently as she would have liked. The air was better there, though smoke still scraped her lungs.

Staying low, she dashed to the door and wrenched the handle. It didn’t budge. She tried again, throwing all her weight behind it. Panic pulsed, hot and frantic through her veins, keeping time with the blaring alarm.

“Help!” she cried. “Let us out!”

Spark pounded on the door, cursing the fact that there were no windows facing into the hall. But there were some on the other side of the room.

Coughing, she scrambled toward the windows, then stopped when she heard Aran groan.

“Spark? What’s going on?” His voice was groggy.

She knelt beside him. “Fire, and we’re trapped. Trying the windows.”

“Sec.”

He sat up and stripped off his T-shirt, then ripped it in half. The cloth left streaks of blood on his hands. With a crooked smile, he handed her half his shirt, then tied the other section over his nose and mouth. Spark, trying not to be squeamish about the blood, did the same.

The two of them scrambled across the room. When they reached the windows, Aran stood. Spark took a few copper-flavored breaths, feeling dizzy. The smoke was starting to get to her.

He dropped back down, eyes bleak.

“Jammed,” he said.

“Break it?”

There was a chair pushed into the corner by the window. Aran grabbed it by the legs and swung it hard against the glass. The chair bounced off, and he cursed.

“Legs first,” she croaked.

He pointed the chair legs at the window and rammed it, his body shielded by the seat. The glass shivered, but held. The alarm shrilled out its useless cry.

“Damn reinforced glass.” Aran dropped the chair, coughing.

“Get down here.” She beckoned him to the floor.

Face taut, he went to his hands and knees.

“Any other ideas?” he asked.

Spark shook her head. She didn’t even have her messager on her—it was on the nightstand upstairs.

“Hey.” She covered his hand with hers. “I’m sorry none of this worked out for us.”

“Don’t give up yet.”

“Lie down, anyway. Better air.”

He dropped to his stomach, looking like a bandit with the blood-smeared cloth over half his face.

They lay there quietly, and Spark concentrated on breathing.

“There has to be another way out,” she said.

Aran went up on his elbows. “We should check the whole room. I’ll go right.”

She nodded, saving her breath, then began crawling over the scratchy brown carpet. Smoke stung her eyes, and she was starting to feel lightheaded, but they couldn’t give up.

Halfway down the wall, she found the air vent. She didn’t have the breath to yell for Aran, so instead she kicked a table over. The clatter brought him running, though he was smart enough to stay doubled over.

“Vent,” she gasped. They had nothing to pry it open with. Except…

Leaving Aran at the vent, she scrambled over to her sim system and grabbed the helmet. VirtuMax wouldn’t like this, but it was a small price to pay. She set the helmet by Aran.