The Iron Sword (The Fae War Chronicles Book 1) (32 page)

“That doesn’t sound like Titania’s style,” I said.

“No. Most felt the same way. But then, when the Queen recovered, she vowed she would find the weapon that would ultimately kill Malravenar, and avenge her sister.”

“She had to wait two hundred years for Molly to be born? Why not just take a mortal and politely suggest that she take a Sidhe lover? It wouldn’t be that hard.”

Ramel shook his head. “The Queen was bound by her own laws, which enraged her further. But then there was a Seer who brought her a prophecy, about a girl-child, half mortal and half Fae, who would bring the weapon of Malravenar’s destruction to Darkhill.”

“Molly,” I said. “The prophecy was talking about Molly.”

“Yes. So we have the girl-child, but not the Sword, and every day sees Malravenar’s power growing. The Saemhradall lies in ashes, and even though there is no love lost between Mab and Titania, the fall of the Seelie Court will greatly weaken Mab’s power, and strengthen Malravenar.”

“The enemy of Mab’s enemy is her friend. She should’ve tried to work with Titania before the Seelie Queen was captured.”

Ramel didn’t look amused. “Again, you have a habit of talking about things which you don’t completely understand.”

I put my hands up. “Fine. Sorry. It’s just a little disconcerting to be thrown into the middle of a Fae war. I’m just saying.” I stood and stretched my legs. “I’m going to go practice with my sword, if that’s all right.”

“It would be best if you didn’t mention any of this conversation to anyone else,” Ramel said. He sat back in his chair and gave me a look that was half exasperated and half weary. “Especially the part about you flouting the prophecy.”

“I’m not advocating any flouting whatsoever,” I grumbled. “I just think you need to think outside the box on this one.”

“What box?” Ramel asked seriously.

I rolled my eyes and headed toward the practice field, eager for a good sweat to wash away the strange thoughts still lingering in my mind.

Chapter 27

A
s soon as I stepped out of the barracks, two glows zipped toward me.

“Lady Tess,” piped Farin. “We have been scouting.”

“It is urgent,” said Forin.

“What?” I said. “Tell me as we walk.” I turned toward the clearing where we’d practiced in the morning. Even from this distance I could hear the clash of swords, and I knew it would be filled with sparring knights and guards. The Sidhe shared my distaste for idleness. I unsheathed my sword and ran a few practice swings as we walked, loosening my wrists.

“You should fight only with your right today,” Flora said, catching up to Forin and Farin.

“We have a report,” Forin said indignantly at Flora’s interruption.

“It is important,” Farin added.

“Then go ahead and make it,” Flora said mildly, settling on my shoulder as my strides carried me closer to the sword-grounds.

“We flew far,” Forin said.

“And we killed a spy, a dark spy,” Farin said breathlessly, baring her tiny teeth and raising one of her daggers. Though it was only about half the length of my littlest finger, I saw that it was stained black to the hilt, and I found myself once again impressed with the glows’ courage.

“What kind of dark spy?” I asked, pausing at the edge of the practice-grounds beneath a large spreading oak tree.

“It was a ghaunt-crow,” Forin said darkly.

“There are many but this one was following us,” Farin said.

“I flew on and Farin circled behind.”

“It could not tell the difference between us.” A faint note of smugness colored Farin’s voice. “They are stupid creatures, even when there is a ghaunt in them, because they cannot even—”

“What is so important that you must bother Lady Tess with a report?” Flora said irritably from my shoulder. I felt her shifting her weight impatiently.

“After we killed the first crow-ghaunt, the one that was following us, we saw a
flock
of them,” Forin said. “We hid in a knot-hole.”

“I wanted to fight them,” Farin clarified.

“I’m sure you did what was best,” I reassured Forin as he looked darkly at his twin.

“We hid in a knot-hole,” he repeated firmly, and Farin quivered her wings indignantly but remained silent, drawing one small finger along the edge of her stained dagger.

“Stop acting like a flit,” Flora scolded. “Go clean your blade, like a proper Glasidhe.”

Farin’s aura turned a vivid shade of scarlet. She zipped away into the trees faster than I could blink.

“Was that really necessary?” I said to Flora.

“She hasn’t been herself,” Forin said. “Scouting was hard on her.”

“I’m sure it was hard on both of you,” I said, holding out a palm. Forin landed, adjusting his bow across his back. “In any case, please tell me what you’ve found.”

“We watched the ghaunts as they flew by,” Forin said. “And we saw they were carrying something, each of them, and they were…disintegrating…faster than usual.”

I frowned. “Disintegrating?”

“The ghaunts carry a spelled spirit inside,” Flora explained when Forin shook his head wearily at my question. “The malevolence of the spirit eats away at the body of the creature into which it is put by the sorcerer.”

“Like a zombie,” I said in horrified fascination.

“I don’t know,” Flora said. “You’d have to ask Wisp if that is an apt comparison. In any case, ghaunts need a physical body, so if the body is destroyed then it sends the spirit back to its master.” She shuddered. “Most of the time. The worst ghaunts are the ones that can still fight when they’re insubstantial.”

“How do you fight a bodiless ghaunt?” I asked.

“You cannot,” Flora said.

“The report,” said Forin at the same time, twitching his wings.

“The report,” I reminded myself, focusing on Forin.

“The ghaunts were carrying something,” Forin repeated. “We didn’t know what, and then Farin became ill, and I began to feel weary.”

“It’s a good thing you hid then.”

Forin waved one wing dismissively. “Lady Tess,” he said leaning forward and looking furtively from side to side. “They were carrying…they were carrying
it.
The deadly metal, the Great Weakness!”

“The crow-ghaunts were carrying iron?” I repeated in a hushed voice.

Forin nodded. “Yes, Lady. Little shards, each of them.”

“Which way were they flying?”

“In this direction, but not directly toward the barracks, and some broke off in groups.”

I frowned. Why would Malravenar send ghaunts with shards of iron, if not to directly attack the Sidhe? And then an idea struck me, chilling me to the bone. “Forin, did you see any of the crows land?”

“Yes, Lady, we saw one group land.”

Too deep in thought to correct him on his use of the honorific title, I asked urgently, “Did you see what they did with the iron?”

“They placed it in the ground, covering it with a small amount of earth.”

“Thank you, Forin, you’ve done very well. Please tell Farin that I thank her as well.” I sheathed my sword and Forin leapt from my palm. Flora gripped my shirt as I strode quickly back toward the barracks.

I burst into the first room unceremoniously, garnering a few curious glances. With Flora clutching at the cloth on my shoulder, I looked about quickly, and didn’t see Ramel or Finnead. Vell, though, sat by the room’s fireplace, inspecting the fletching on her arrows, Beryk curled in a black swirl of fur by her boots. He opened one golden eye as I approached, and after taking in my expression, he opened both eyes and whuffed softly to Vell.

Vell looked at me with her sharp, unsettling gaze. “What is it, Tess?”

I stopped by the chair, staring into the fire for a moment. “I think we’re in trouble.”

Vell laughed softly, looking back down at her red-fletched arrow again, her long fingers dexterously examining the feathers. “And when exactly did you have this revelation?”

Realizing she was laughing at my statement, I bristled. “Two of the Glasidhe brought back some information that I think might be useful.”

Beryk’s tail swept across the floor once and his ears shot forward. I knew Vell was listening, even though her eyes were occupied with the arrow across her lap. “They said there were ghaunt-crows, flying in this direction but not directly at the barracks, breaking off in groups. They were carrying something, disintegrating more than usual, so they followed one group.” I took a breath. Beryk’s golden gaze transfixed me. “The ghaunt-crows were carrying shards of iron,” I continued, “and they’re burying them in the earth.”

Vell’s fingers stilled on the arrow. “A fence,” she said, smiling mirthlessly. “To pen us into the barracks like so many lambs for slaughter.”

Beryk showed his teeth at the mention of lambs.

“Are you going to tell them? Or should I go tell them?” I demanded.

Vell finished examining the arrow in her hands, and then slid it lovingly into her quiver. She looked up at me. “Whether I tell them now or one minute from now, it won’t matter.” Shaking her head, she said, “I’d heard stories of how mortals are terribly impatient, but I never really believed them.”

I rolled my eyes. “I heard stories about how Northerners are terribly barbaric, but I never really believed them.”

Vell grinned at me in an unsettling echo of the wolf by her feet. She stood and slung the quiver over her shoulder. “I think you should probably believe them, Tess,” she said with a decidedly wolf-like growl lingering in the bottom of her voice.

Beryk stood and stretched. I caught a glimpse of glimmering black claws. He looked up at Vell, who dropped to one knee and hugged him suddenly and fiercely.

“Be careful,” she said to the black wolf, who licked her face and galloped out of the room.

“Where’s he going?” I asked.

“To find the fence, of course,” Vell answered, adjusting her quiver-strap about her chest. “Come on, then. I think it will probably be time to convene the war-council, or whatever the stuff-shirted blowhards decide to call themselves these days. The Grand Council of the Forest Barracks, or something, probably.” Vell quirked her eyebrows as she continued her irreverent sarcasm. I smiled a little and followed her into the second room, hoping that Finnead and the others would know how to slip the tightening noose of Malravenar’s making.

Vell disappeared into the infirmary, and when she returned, Finnead strode in her wake, white-faced and grim. I noticed the dark shadows beneath his eyes, and I wondered if he had gotten any sleep recently. Had he simply been working in the infirmary the whole time? I knew that the iron-poison affected him less than an ordinary Sidhe, just because of the nature of his power, but I also knew that it hurt him just as badly, eventually. He glanced at me, his eyes strangely wary, and I realized that my concern probably showed in my face, softening my eyes and my lips as I looked at him. I shut away the thoughts, and carefully smoothed the expression out of my face. I knew I’d succeeded when the old aloof look crossed his handsome features and he turned back to Vell.

Finnead sent a few younger members of the patrol out to gather specific Sidhe. The younger warriors didn’t even question him, hurrying away on cat-quiet feet to carry out his orders. Eamon appeared at the door of the infirmary, his eyes questioning.

“Tell me if any of them worsen,” Finnead said to him in a low voice.

The healer nodded, replying, “It will be Allene’s watch in an hour.”

Finnead gave a brief nod and then went to the table, unfurling the neatly rolled maps. Seeing that Finnead wasn’t paying attention to her any more, absorbed in examining the maps, Vell left the room without even a backward glance. Somehow I felt a little disappointed that she hadn’t even slid a parting jibe into the tense air. I was half-tempted to follow her—what could they want with me in their grand discussion of strategy, after all? But when I took a step in the direction of the door, Finnead said suddenly, “She got the information from you?”

I stopped and drew back my shoulders a little. “Yes. The Glasidhe helped.”

Finnead stood looking down at the map, the firelight sliding slickly across the blue-purple sheen in his raven-dark hair. None of the other Sidhe had arrived from the practice-fields and watch-stations yet. The crackle of the fire weighted the silence between us.

Finally I ventured, “I’m…sorry for mentioning…what I did. Earlier,” I clarified when he looked at me inquiringly.

A small humorless smile touched his lips. “What was it that you mentioned?”

“Don’t be an ass about it,” I said in irritation after a moment. Was he trying to make me relive my mortification and confusion? “I was trying to apologize.”

His stormy blue eyes bored into me. “I suppose you can’t help what you see in your visions.”

“I didn’t know it was a vision.” My voice rose defensively. “I thought it was a dream.”

He shook his head. “Why can’t you accept that your powers are beyond your control?”

“Because they are
not
,” I said, even as I realized that he was partially right.

“You like being in control,” he said, his piercing gaze examining my face. His eyes hardened. “But some things are beyond your power.”

“Can you stop speaking in riddles?” I asked, half-gentling my voice so it didn’t come out rudely. “Do you mean that the Sword is beyond my power? Is that what you’re talking about?”

He smiled and looked away. “No,” he said, his face still turned away from me, “I wasn’t speaking about the Sword.”

Then the door swung open and three Sidhe walked in, Emery among them. I slipped to the side of the table, observing silently as the council arrived and took their seats at the long map-table, Finnead at the head and Ramel beside him. Since I knew precious little of battle strategy in comparison to the others, I simply stood in the background and listened, toying with Gwyneth’s iron ring and frowning in concentration. Emery, Donovan, Ramel and Finnead gathered around the map, and a handful of other Sidhe joined them. To my mild surprise, the Sidhe listened to Forsythe and Flora, and even Wisp, when the glows had something to say, or pointed out a detail they had missed on the map. Soldiers came and went through the room while they talked, carrying bows and quivers, stones for sharpening blades, and healing supplies.

“Emery,” said Finnead, “what is the latest count of able-bodied?”

“Thirty,” replied Emery.

“And we don’t know at all how many Malravenar may be bringing against us.” Finnead said the Dark One’s name without any trace of fear, and none of the Sidhe present flinched. Although my heart had fallen when I’d heard there were only thirty able to fight, a wave of pride washed over me at their courage.

They talked about defensive positions for the archers, and bringing the horses into the first room before the battle began, since the stables were a relatively recent addition, and no spells lived in the grain of its wood. I tried to pay attention, but many of the maneuvers they spoke about had no meaning for me, and at times they unconsciously lapsed into their own tongue. The Sidhe most often used Common-tongue, as they called the English language, to prevent confusion from dialects, Wisp explained to me as he took a break on my shoulder, but sometimes they reverted to their native language.

“In any case,” he said, “the Queen has always deemed it necessary and proper for the Court to keep their language skills fresh. It’s not hard at all for them to learn, you see. All it really takes is listening to a few minutes of someone else speaking the language and—” He snapped his small fingers for emphasis.

“Well, that would certainly be a useful skill,” I mused quietly.

“It is,” Wisp said affirmatively.

Then I heard my name mentioned in the conversation, and I leaned forward.

“—should be placed with the archers,” Emery finished. I felt a flush of pride, that I was included in the battle plan. Even though my archery skills weren’t quite up to Sidhe standards, I had been itching to experiment with
taebramh
-lit arrows. It would be interesting to see their affect on the creatures.

A Sidhe I didn’t know personally sat between Emery and Donovan. He was the largest man I had ever seen, mortal or immortal; and only his rugged handsomeness saved him from being incredibly frightening. He was intimidating just because of his size anyway: he barely fit in the chairs that comfortably held the other Sidhe, and he wore a leathery vest that looked like it was made from an entire deer hide. A necklace of sharp, dagger-like teeth hung around his massive neck. As Emery spoke of me, he looked over at me as if seeing me for the first time.