Rise of the Seven (21 page)

Several shards of solid, toxic ice pierced
the earth where we’d been standing, driving through both soil and
stone. I glanced up as the attacker dove past and saw dark wings,
adorned with flecks the yellow-orange of a monarch. Suddenly, a
burst of power struck and I spun away as rock and dirt exploded
beside me. I got to my feet to see Rowan cursing and spitting.

Chevelle and Steed remained on the slope near
me, the others spread among the top of the ridge and opposite side.
I hoped Junnie was no longer alone.

Chevelle flung a strike at Rowan, but he
moved too swiftly and remained unharmed.

Steed eyed the air above us. “So that’s the
ice boy, eh?”

“
Not for long,” I answered,
narrowing my gaze on the tiny bit of orange visible against the
dark clouds.

Before I released a blow, the slim black
wings opened and the fairy was diving toward me once more. I hadn’t
planned on killing him, merely stunning him to the ground to
capture and explain Rowan’s folly, Asher’s madness, so I only
allowed a small measure of power into the assault.

When it reached the winged beast, he froze
midflight, twisting and writhing, and then jerked against my
energy. I believed him to be struggling to overcome the blast, but
then Rowan laughed from his vantage point across the charred field
and I realized what was happening. I pulled frantically back,
trying to draw the energy in, but it was too late. I hadn’t thought
it possible, hadn’t believed this half-blood fey was strong enough.
He was stealing my power.

“
Take cover,” I screamed,
severing the tie, and the dark fey beast shrieked a hideous
cry.

Steed threw himself against me and Chevelle
leapt in front of us both, blocking the debris from the barely
missed blast. I gritted my teeth at being knocked once more from
the path of destruction so violently, and found my feet again.
Rowan used the opportunity to take another shot at me, which
infuriated me so severely I sent an excess of power his way.
Somehow it missed and a crater appeared in the dirt.

“
He’s like a
snake
,” I
seethed.

Emboldened by his victory, the dark fey
floated closer. “She is not so formidable, Rowan.” His head tilted
to the side as he examined me from the air, purposefully out of
reach. “If not for Father’s strength, she would be nothing.”

“
Stop wasting time, Sian,”
Rowan yelled from his position of safety. “Kill her.”

The fey smiled then, and his face changed. He
was no boy, but a man. He was slight and thin, but signs of age
lined his face. His long black hair was fine and dull, and the
papery wings were tattered and fraying.

“
Sian,” I whispered,
wondering if Chevelle knew the meaning of the name.

His palm brushed my back and
I knew he did.
The
second
.

Asher had planned this all along. Vita had
been the first, a unique and powerful light elf, and had borne Aunt
Fannie. But he hadn’t stopped there, when she’d been a
disappointment he’d moved on to the fey. My mother must have been
born after those attempts. And maybe he’d even given up on others
for a while when she’d shown promise.

But this was Asher’s second attempt, and
blatantly named as such.

I could see him there, in this fey’s eyes,
and the resemblance made my stomach turn.

“
It doesn’t have to end this
way,” I offered. “You have been misled.”

Sian’s mouth bent into a smirk. “She is
afraid, Rowan. She knows she will die.”

Anvil chose that moment to step over the
ridge and when Rowan commanded, “End it,” the skies came alive with
light.

“
No,” I yelled. But it
didn’t come in time.

My skin pricked and chest tightened an
instant before the deafening crack tore from the sky. Anvil had
thrown everything into the attack, and the lightning gathered among
the clouds for one long second before threading into several
strands that tracked straight for the fey. A blinding flash lit the
air around us, followed by an instant of dead silence before the
explosion.

Sian had fallen from the sky, but he was far
from lifeless. His body thrashed and shook, his chest heaved in a
few wicked coughs. And then the screeching sounded again. This time
it pierced our ears, strangled at first, but quickly stronger,
louder… chilling.

Steed cursed.

I’d no more than began to process what had
happened when a large, wet raindrop splatted against my cheek. My
head tilted back automatically, and several more landed on my face
and chest. I drew in a breath, but Chevelle was already calling out
the command.

“
Run!”

Suddenly, the air was empty, vacant as Sian
drew in the moisture from around us. My feet scrambled for purchase
on the slope, now littered with dips and rubble from the conflict,
and I looked for the ridge above. The eerie hollowness of the air
was intensified by silence, the sudden lack of thunder and wind,
and I knew we didn’t have long.

Anvil grabbed my arm, pulling me over the
ridge, and I caught sight of the trees ahead, lifeless as their
leaves had abruptly stilled. I felt the power build and release
behind us, but could do nothing to stop it.

Anvil had felt it too, and we were spinning,
turning to face the coming onslaught. The others were behind us,
and I met Chevelle’s eyes for one brief moment before he turned to
shield me.

Steel rained down upon us. The ice didn’t
carry the tang of poison, but it was death. Blades of hardened
water shone like glass, flying toward us in an endless assault. We
could do nothing to Sian, could not give him more power to use
against us, could only watch as he laughed and cackled a
scream.

We crouched, huddled together on the edge of
the ridge, Steed and Chevelle in front of me, Anvil and Rider at my
sides. Grey had disappeared. We blocked every shard we could, but
they were razors, cutting the air with no more than a whisper of
sound until they pierced the earth around us. Steed flinched as one
caught his arm, and I saw another connect with Rider. Blood
dampened my cheek an instant before I felt the blade thin shard
brush against it.

Sian raised his arms to the sky and the ice
turned to daggers, great crystal spikes in the form of a hailstorm.
Anvil was knocked back as a spear took him in the shoulder and then
Steed faltered as one planted deep into his leg. Chevelle cursed as
he tried to pick up the momentary lapse in our shield.

A solid thump rang through my bones before my
ears picked up the zzzshk of a too-close shard and I looked down to
find a spear of ice lodged in the side of my chest.

A squeal of delight erupted from the dark fey
elf and I glanced up in time to see him dancing in triumph. Numbly,
I watched as he spun to a stop and smiled back at me. The ice had
stopped too, and the others fell slightly away as they turned to
see what had his attention.

Chevelle had gone white. He reached up as if
to touch the blade but stopped, instead staring into my eyes. I
became very aware of our surroundings, the sudden silence
amplifying the chaos. The ridge was destroyed. My guard lay
bleeding around me.

Sian would overtake us. Any strike against
him would be not only be useless, it would be returned tenfold.

We were hurt. Hopeless.

Finn and Keaton howled from somewhere among
the pines.

And then I saw it, there in Chevelle’s
sapphire eyes. He hadn’t given up.

Suddenly, a jolt ran through me. Chevelle
hadn’t left the blade in my chest because there was no chance. He
had left it because I was still breathing. The ice hadn’t pierced
my lung, but was embedded in the muscle between my chest and
shoulder joint. My leather would hold it there, keeping me from
further damage, and it wasn’t poisoned.

It was, however, the only thing keeping Sian
from continuing the attack.

I kept my face slack,
letting him think it was shock as my eyes took in the scene. It
would be a brief reprieve, regardless, but there had to be some
way, some
thing
we
could do to fight him.

There was the barest sound from the base of
the ridge behind us, some small shifting of stone, and then
abruptly a large grey wolf stood beside us. Keaton had bounded onto
the demolished earth of the ridge, paws clattering the sharpened
ice against stone, and growled viciously toward Sian.

His muzzle was still pulled back in a snarl
when he turned to us, but his eyes shone bright. The wolf looked
first at Rider, then me. When he was certain he had my attention,
he moved his gaze slowly to Chevelle.

I couldn’t say how long it took for the
message to sink in, but when Keaton finally got through, I nodded.
I reached forward to clasp Chevelle’s hand.

“
The power,” I whispered,
“hold it for me.”

His eyes never left my face as I directed the
energy to release. I could feel the line as it stretched within me,
as it fell to Chevelle, and as it ran free to its target.

The impact threw Sian off his feet to land
soundly in the ash behind him. A puff of dust rose from the
destroyed trees and then settled around him as he writhed and
moaned. He struggled to control the power, but as he wrapped
himself fully around it, the energy would not work free. He let out
a high-pitched keen and then his neck snapped up to look at us.

There was no way he could tell, no
possibility he would understand, but Sian knew something had
changed. He fought to his knees, twitching and jerking, and tried
to center his focus.

He pulled harder against it, struggling to
wrench the energy free, but it only stretched thinner. Through our
connection, I could feel Chevelle now as he anchored the power. I’d
had no control over Asher’s power alone, but it was steady now
fastened within our bond. And our target was growing weaker.

My mouth pulled up in a smile and Sian
realized he was no longer assured victory. His face fell, and then
his eyes moved along the ridge. I followed his stare to find
Junnie, bow raised and drawn in readiness. There was a sharp
screech, the call of a bird, and she loosed the arrow.

Junnie didn’t wait for it to hit the mark,
but jerked her head toward the clearing.

Rowan stood opposite us, watching with horror
as the events unfolded. He couldn’t see the figure slip up behind
him, nor the blade, too quick, that sliced his throat. Rowan’s hand
came up automatically, and blood flooded through his fingers.

When he fell, Grey stood behind him.

Chapter Twenty-five

New Beginnings

I stared blankly at Grey’s lithe form,
watching as he drew the dagger across his leg to clear the
blade.

“
Freya,” Chevelle whispered,
sliding his hand up to cradle my face, my neck.

My eyes met his and his hand continued to my
shoulder, where he squeezed, and I suddenly realized he was bracing
me. There was a bit of a choking gasp that escaped my throat when
Steed pulled the shard free, and then Junnie was there, closing up
the wound.

I blinked, staring up at her, and she smiled
in greeting. “Freya.”

A long breath fell from me and I sagged a
little as the tension dissipated. We had done it.

“
Are we all alive?” I asked,
watching Chevelle hold Steed’s leg while Anvil removed the hardened
ice.

Junnie glared across the field at Rowan’s
prone form. “The important ones, yes.”

Grey was making his way up the slope of the
ridge, but detoured to check on Sian’s body. Junnie’s arrow had
pierced the dark fey’s heart.

“
There,” Junnie said as she
patted my shoulder. “The wounds are clean. The blades were thin and
sharp so the cuts fall right together and, once sealed,” she
glanced at Steed’s leg, “will heal well in time.”

Grey kicked a shard of ice as he approached,
appearing completely unscathed by the ordeal. Rowan had been
slippery, but he’d met his match here. He smiled as Ruby came to
join us.

“
How is Finn?” Rider asked
as he took his turn with Junnie.

Ruby smirked. “He’s the best patient I’ve
ever had.” She eyed the lot of us, bruised and bloody, and the
mirth dropped from her expression. “He’s had it the worst,” she
explained, “because of the poison.” And then she shrugged. “But,
lucky for us, Frey was attacked weeks ago and I’ve had some time to
study the toxin.”

“
Yeah,” I muttered.
“Lucky.”

She smiled down at me. “He’ll be fine.”

Anvil passed me a canteen and I drank deep. I
would have thought I’d have been done with water for a while, but I
couldn’t seem to get enough of it. Eventually, the others gathered
in the pines with Rhys and Finn as we prepared to return to the
castle. I remained on the ridge with Junnie, where she cradled a
small, half-human child.

“
Junnie,” I asked, sliding
the pendant from my belt, “what do you know of this?”

Her eyes narrowed on Veil’s gift, and I
explained his visit and our theory in more detail.

She nodded. “That’s four. The ice and silver
you know.” Her gaze came up to mine. “And bone,” she said, “Freya,
that’s you.”

“
What?” I argued. “Why would
I be a danger to myself?”

Junnie shook her head. “It wasn’t a warning
for you, Freya. It was the four who could claim the throne.”

“
But Asher had more,” I
contended. “There were so many.”

“
Yes,” she agreed. “But not
capable of ascending the throne.”

I sighed. “Okay, then who is the fourth?”

Her eyes stayed on me a long moment, too
long, and then we both looked at the child in her arms.