Wilde's Meadow (Darkness Falls #3) (7 page)

Chapter Six

Someone built a fire while Arland, Brit, and I were by the stream. When we returned, I sat on a log near the warm flames and recited the concealment spell over and over. It took Arland closer to an hour to divide everyone. He categorized people by their abilities: Healers, Swordsmen, Archers, Watchers, Scouts, and Communicators. Once we had an idea of what people could do, he split them into four groups.

My pants and boots have long since dried from my encounter with Dughbal in the water, and reciting the spell has already drained my energy. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up. Brit and the others are helping, but it’s me who the sprites listen to. It’s my love and fire they feed off of.

I stare at Arland on the other side of the flickering orange flames. He’s deep in conversation with Cadman and Saidear. Everyone awaits Arland’s instructions, instructions for where they’ll be sent and what they’ll do once they arrive. He’s so strong and determined, so focused; I wonder if he realizes he’s lost track of time, if he knows my ability to keep our protection up is waning.

“Am I really not helping at all?” Brit asks.

“Just keep trying. You’ll learn to conjure magic soon enough.”

Arland turns his head, a glimmer of concern passing through his eyes as they meet mine. He leans next to Cadman’s ear and whispers.

Cadman nods, takes a seat, then moves his lips. Blue sparks ignite in his hands and dance up his arms, engulfing him in flames. He’s using magic how I do, how I taught him. The power of the gods makes Cadman appear ten years younger, smoothing his wrinkles and scars.

I wonder what I look like while burning, if I look as I did when I was a child. I haven’t had a chance to sit and watch someone using old magic, but seeing the blue flames flutter around him fascinates me.

Arland clears his throat. The simple action, combined with his strong presence, commands everyone’s attention, even mine. He stands in front of the fire pit, hands clasped behind his back, and faces the gathered army. “The decisions have been made. Brice Cearbhaill will lead his group to seek out the daemons near Watchers Hall. When you find them, slaughter them quickly.”

Brice stands and fists his hand over his heart. “I will not let you down, sir.”

“You need not honor me, friend.” Arland smiles, a kind gesture, not a look of happiness. “You need to honor those following you; you need to honor Encardia.”

This is who Arland is meant to be. Leading is natural for him, just as loving me seems natural. He’s perfection personified. Every soldier here watches him, looks up to him, eagerly responds to his instructions. I have to protect Arland from Dughbal. If Arland dies in this war, no one will forgive me.

I
won’t forgive me.

He casts a sideways glance in my direction.

I’m sure Arland’s heard my thoughts.

“Saidear Fearghail, take your soldiers to Wickward. Cadman crossed paths with many daemon strongholds between Willow Falls and our former headquarters.”

Saidear stands and offers the same salute as Brice, but refrains from speaking.

“Thank you, Saidear.” Arland walks around the cracking timbers, then places his hand on my shoulder.

A range of foreign emotions rushes through me. Panic, the most prominent, overwhelms my heart and sends prickles down my arms, but I don’t understand why he’s afraid. Arland appears so composed, so held together.

“
The magic is gone, Kate, and we have visitors
.”

I jump to my feet, then spin in a circle, looking everywhere for the daemons. They aren’t difficult to find; coscarthas, tairbs, and hounds are
everywhere
.

We’re surrounded.

We’re surrounded, and it’s my fault. I let my guard down. I focused on Arland too much, on—

“
Shut up, Kate,
” Brit thinks. “
It wasn’t like you had much help, and you’ve upheld our protection for way longer than you should have
.” She stands. “And so it begins.”

“Take my hand,” Arland says.

I grab onto him, and his strength floods me. I will not let him down. I will not let these people down. We’ve come too far to stop now. This battle will be easy. Fear will not control me like it did earlier. Exhaustion will not cause me to make mistakes.

“Get to your feet, soldiers. Your first battle lies before you. Draw your weapons and fight with fire, fight with your heart, fight for your
lives
,” Arland commands.

The soldiers stand, drawing their weapons. Brice and Dunn notch burning arrows on their bows. A few women rush forward, creating dancing blue flames in their hands and transferring the fire to their swords.

“Form a barrier around our Leaders,” Saidear instructs, removing his weapon from its sheath.

Our soldiers spread out in rows encircling Arland and me, Brit, Flanna, and Perth.

This won’t be like fighting with a group including young children. This army is well trained, fearless. Even Kent and Muriel fall into line, faces hard masks, eyes intent. They are young, but Arland is right; they will do this because they have to, because they
want
to help.

“No more fear?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No more.”

Searching my heart for passion, peace, love, for what I desire when this is all over—a lifetime with Arland—I focus everything over my heart, then allow rage to flow. It bubbles in my core, growing stronger and stronger with the thought of all the threats my desires face. Flames engulf me and spread onto Arland like wildfire.

He closes his eyes, and his thoughts fill mine; he thinks of me, envisioning my smile, remembering my kisses. “I love you.”

I squeeze his hand. “I love you, too.”

The image of me fades from Arland’s mind. He takes a deep breath, looking upon the battle before us. “Release your arrows. Do not allow any daemons to leave here alive.”

Arrows zip through the air, lighting the forest with streams of blue. A coscartha shrieks as he’s pierced between the eyes. Black oozes from his skull. Flanna releases her bowstring; her shot hits the same coscartha in his bony, gray chest.

Protect—

“Wait”—
Arland tenses his hand around mine—”
allow our people the chance to fight. If you take over every time, they will not feel as though they are needed and will grow complacent.
”

I watch as our army kills daemons all around us. We aren’t outnumbered; we double their totals. I will hold off and give these people confidence.

“
Yeah, it’s not like you have the energy to use magic anyway.
” Brit flashes a cocky grin and releases an arrow, piercing a tairb’s thigh. “Awesome. Can you believe a stupid daemon taught me how to use this thing?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Brit squints her right eye, lining up her shot. “I mean”—she allows another arrow to fly—”Lann taught me how to shoot this thing, but he wasn’t really Lann. He was a shifter.”

Flanna gasps, face blanching, then she glares at my sister with a look of mixed hostility and hurt. “Can we not mention that again?”

My Confidant pulls her bowstring taut, then lets an arrow soar into the heart of a tairb. The beast collapses; its glowing, red eyes fade to black.

“Sorry. I just thought it was funny that a shifter would show me how to kill one of his stupid little buddies.”

Maybe the shifters don’t have as much control over us as they think. Maybe our thoughts or our knowledge and memories influence how they act. Arland said Lann was a good man, a great soldier, who led his people on the path of Light for years. Maybe who we are can never fully be replaced by the evil of Darkness’ shifters.

Arland spins around and faces the direction of the stream, tugging me along with him. I doubt he’ll ever let me out of his sight again—at least not while Dughbal is still alive.

Saidear and a group of eight men raise their swords, ready to strike, and march forward into a group of hounds. A huge, black mutt barrels toward a tall soldier, its teeth bared. White foam drips from its jowls. The man falls to his knees, stabs his weapon into the chest of the beast, then turns and stabs another.

Burning daemons litter the ground and fill the forest with their desperate whimpers.

Arland turns his attention to the left. “More tairbs on your right.”

Cadman tosses his bow and draws his sword. “Conall, spread the soldiers out. Protect our Leaders.”

Perth pulls a dagger from his belt and starts forward. “We are growing weak.”

“Wait,” Arland says, placing his hand on Perth’s shoulder.

A large gap forms between the fighters. Our circle has diminished. Coscarthas surround Kent; their hollow, black eyes follow his every movement.

I can’t watch this. I can’t allow anyone to be hurt. “We should fight.”

“Give them more time. No Draíochtan blood has been spilled. No men call for our aid. They need to learn to battle and work as a team. We will not all be together when we leave this place.” Arland clenches his jaw. He’s always been on the front line, been the one to deliver orders and kill daemonic threats to his people. Following his own instructions appears to take a toll on him.

“Gavin,” Arland shouts.

Gavin drives his sword into the stomach of a tairb, then backs away from the poisonous blood spilling from its wound.

“Yes, sir,” he calls.

“You will lead the third group of soldiers. Remain here and act as protection for the Crossing Caves.”

“It will be an honor, sir.” Gavin smiles, revealing faint wrinkles around his brown eyes, then spins on his heel and cuts the mangled head off a coscartha.

The soldier fights with more enthusiasm, killing beast after beast in rapid succession. Did Arland’s assignment excite Gavin? Has he hoped for a leadership position?

I look at Brice to see how he fights. Blood drips from his hairline, streaking through his dirt covered face. He ditches his bow and lifts his sword, running toward a group of coscarthas. A loud, guttural battle cry escapes Brice’s mouth as he drives his weapon into the daemon’s ribcage. Two more creatures approach from behind him, but he yanks out the iron, spins, then severs their heads. A hound jumps from the cover of a bush. The daemon pushes the soldier to the ground, but Brice kicks his legs into the belly of the beast, gets to his feet, then stabs it.

He squints, glancing from soldier to soldier, then runs to the aid of two women struggling with one tairb.

“Brice fights well,” Arland whispers.

Taking two steps forward, Perth lets his mouth hang open. “Is that Rhoswen and … and … why would … ?”

Vanora
. The tall redhead hides behind Rhoswen, allowing the wounded Ground Dweller to act as a shield between her and the tairb.

“Hey, Perth, your lover is here.” Flanna cackles. “She has not changed much.”

Perth narrows his eyes. “We were children, Flanna.”

“By the looks of it, she still is a child.” She waggles her finger in the direction of the cowering Vanora. “May I step in, Arland? I would really enjoy showing that traitorous—what is the word you used again, Brit?”

“Bitch.”

“Right. I would really enjoy showing that traitorous—”

“
Flanna
.” Arland releases my hand and steps in front of his cousin, arms crossed over his chest. “She acted out of love.”

“She
acted
like one of them. She spit in our faces, Arland. Vanora is as good as Perth’s father.”

Taking Flanna by the arm, Arland yanks her toward Perth. “Apologize.”

Defiance lines her upturned chin. “What would I apologize to
him
for?”

“
He
saved all of our lives at Willow Falls.
He
kept secrets and stood up to the very man you hate.
He
does not deserve to be embarrassed by
your
childish behavior. I have threatened you once, and if you make me do it again, I will send you back. Emotions will get you killed out here. Now apologize.”

Perth slumps his shoulders and sighs. “No apology necessary. Vanora
is
no better than my father. If you send anyone back to Willow Falls, I would prefer it be her and not Flanna.”

A wide grin spreads across Flanna’s pale cheeks. “See. Glad to know Perth finally sees the light.”

“Yeah. I see the light, and not much else.” His gaze lingers on me for a moment, stealing the breath from my lungs.

Arland and I meet eyes, and I’m pretty sure I don’t have to explain what Perth means. I was his first kiss, his first glimpse at adult love—not the kind of innocent feelings he experienced with Vanora when they were children. I also crushed him with the amount of rejection I tossed his way.

He knew my heart lies with Arland when we arrived at Willow Falls, but that doesn’t mean Perth didn’t enjoy the act or wish for some of it to be real.

Cheers erupt around us. Soldiers raise their weapons over their head, shaking bows, daggers, or swords.

“Victory,” a man cries, slapping the bloody back of another.

“Behave,” Arland whispers to Flanna, then he turns and faces our army, arms spread at his sides. “Well done, but we must leave here at once. Brice, Saidear, and Gavin, lead our people wisely. Do not let your guard down. Do not leave anyone behind. If someone is injured, protect them. If someone dies, bury them. If you are outnumbered, find a way to outsmart the daemons. This war is almost over. Encardia will be free from Darkness, and you will be free to enjoy life as it once was.”

Soldiers form groups as assigned earlier and step behind their assigned leader. Kent and Muriel stand beside me and Arland. Many unfamiliar people join the children. Rhoswen hobbles toward us, followed by Vanora.

Perth blanches.

“Not happy to see me, Perth?” she whispers, passing us by.

He leans in close to my ear. “And I thought Arland and I were getting along. Funny he should put
her
here.”

“Keep your senses keen, and if you need help, send a message through your Communicator,” Arland says.

Brice, Gavin, and Saidear place a fist over their heart and nod.