Chapter 26 #2
Leone shook his head, then straightened, authority settling over him like a mantle. When he spoke, his voice carried the unmistakable command of an heir.
"By my order, I, Lord Leone Kerridan, heir to the Throne of Ceilte, command an immediate ceasefire. Gather all the soldiers of Ceilte and bring them here."
The guards glanced at one another, hesitation plain on their faces.
"But, my lord… Lord Fenric…"
"Lord Fenric is nothing more than a greedy lord. He kidnapped my father, left me to die under torture at the Autumn Court, and now he’s trying to start a war with Oksha!"
The statement was a gamble. We didn't actually know whether Alasdair had been kidnapped, but his and my mother's absence from Ceilte raised serious concerns. Fenric stood as the only one who benefited from the chaos.
The guards exchanged another glance, and one of them—the youngest—nodded.
"Yes, my lord."
The three of them sprinted toward the battlefield, shouting Leone’s orders to the others.
"We have to find Fenric," Leone said, turning to me with determination in his eyes.
"I broke Kael’s nose in the central plaza," I replied, pointing the way with my axe. "He’ll definitely know where his father is."
Leone nodded, and we ran side by side toward the heart of the battle.
The bonfire square had turned into a hellscape of blood, scattered bodies, and screams of agony. The orcs, caught off guard at first, now fought with desperate ferocity. Despite the wounded and fallen around them, they were gaining ground.
I searched for Kael, but he wasn't where I had left him.
"Cease fire!" one of the guards shouted. "Lord Leone has ordered it!"
The soldiers of Ceilte ignored the command. They remained lost in the frenzy of battle, blinded by bloodlust.
"That’s enough!" Leone bellowed at the top of his lungs.
The shout tore through the plaza, drawing the attention of both Fae and orcs.
Malek, drenched in the dark green blood of his own wounds and the crimson blood of his enemies, turned toward us. I scanned him, searching for any life-threatening injuries. My shoulders only relaxed when I confirmed that the gashes on his arms and chest were superficial.
"Fenric is a traitor," Leone announced, his voice unwavering despite the chaos surrounding us. "He kidnapped me and is now using the guards to start a war. The Okshai have done nothing!"
Leone’s declaration shocked both sides—the orcs witnessing a High Fae defending them, and the guards hearing the accusation. Malek’s roar of rage at the confirmation drowned out the murmurs spreading through the crowd.
"Guards of Ceilte, surrender!" Leone continued. "Stop this massacre. Lord Alasdair is missing, and Fenric has staged a coup!"
Slowly, the guards lowered their weapons, still dazed and uncertain.
Kael staggered toward us, his face a bloody mess. A brief flash of satisfaction surged through my chest when I noticed blood pouring steadily from his broken nose.
"Don't listen to them!" Kael shouted to the guards. "The orc turned her into one of his kind," he continued, pointing at me, "and now he’s manipulated her into making the heir betray his own blood!"
Every eye turned toward me.
"He didn't manipulate me," I snapped, fury thick in my voice at the male's sheer stupidity. "In case you’ve forgotten, I was cursed by Merith on my wedding day. And now, Kael, I’m starting to wonder whether your father had a hand in that as well.
After all, how did she slip through our wards so easily? "
A few guards began whispering among themselves, casting suspicious glances toward Fenric’s son. Noticing the shift, the bastard pressed forward with renewed desperation.
"My father would never do that!" Kael shot back, struggling to appear indignant. "He cares about Ceilte—which, in case you’ve forgotten, has grown weak under Lord Alasdair’s leadership! For years, he allowed the orcs to advance into the mountains and did nothing!”
Before I could respond, Malek moved with lightning speed toward Kael, his axe raised to end the argument.
The Ruk’hai’s axe sliced through the air, but Kael dodged.
Fenric wasn't nearby, so his son became the target of Malek’s hatred. He no longer fought with reason, but with the raw rage of seeing his people attacked in the middle of the night and the agony of watching Okshai's blood spilled on their own ground.
"You’ll regret coming here, kir’shakur," Malek growled in Okshakai.
Kael scrambled to his feet, defending himself with the skill of a well-trained High Fae. However, his body lacked my orc’s strength and endurance. Malek’s blows forced him backward with every strike. It soon became clear that Kael was not prepared to withstand my orc's brute force.
Everyone watched the fight as though witnessing a dramatic performance.
The first time I saw Malek fight, he had looked like a harbinger of death with his giant axe, bared fangs, and the way he tore the dùthragh apart with his bare hands.
Now, however, he appeared even more terrifying.
Every strike was fast, precise, and relentless.
He dominated the battlefield, turning Kael into little more than a straw target.
Malek delivered a blow to Kael’s hand powerful enough to force him to drop his sword with a roar of pain. The sound of metal striking the ground snapped everyone out of their trance. With Kael on his knees, bloodied and wearing an expression of pure terror, my orc raised his axe.
"Ruk’hai, wait!" Leone shouted, lunging forward to intervene before the situation spiraled further. As much as he was an idiot, Kael remained the son of an important lord in Ceilte and needed to be judged accordingly.
Unfortunately for him, Malek didn’t care about Ceilte’s politics and schemes.
Malek’s axe struck Kael’s neck, slicing through flesh as cleanly as silk. The body slumped to one side while the head rolled to the other, the expression of terror still frozen on his face.
Orcs and Fae alike stood motionless, staring at the lifeless body of Lord Fenric’s son at Malek’s feet.
"No!"
A scream shattered the stillness. Lord Fenric rushed toward his son, his face twisted with terror.
He dropped to his knees beside the decapitated body, sobs tearing from his chest. Seeing the male responsible for all of this kneeling in his own son’s blood stirred no pity in me. He had known exactly what he was doing when he invaded Oksha.
Leone stopped at my side, his eyes fixed on the scene, shock still etched across his face.
His mouth opened, then closed again, unable to form words.
I understood his position as well; as the heir of Ceilte, allowing one of his citizens—even a waste of space such as Kael—to be killed in that way could easily be viewed as treason.
Malek, his axe still dripping with blood, turned back to face us. The fury in his eyes slowly ebbed, replaced by a mask of cold indifference. He was ready for whatever came next.
"Murderer!" Fenric shrieked, lifting his blood-stained face after pressing his forehead against his son's chest, his eyes bloodshot with hatred. "You filthy animal! I swear by the Goddesses that you and all your people will pay for this!"
He rose to his feet and raised a hand toward Malek, preparing to strike with magic. Against weapons, the orcs stood a fighting chance, but certain Fae, Fenric among them, could inflict devastating damage with nothing more than a gesture.
With the An Talamh vibrating beneath my hands, I hurled my rage forward to protect Malek. All I could see was him—my mate—standing in danger. The earth beneath my feet responded instantly, and the ancestral strength of Marukoksha surged through me.
"Enough!"
My voice rang with magic, amplified into something powerful and unfamiliar.
A wave of emerald-green energy burst from my hands—not as an attack, but as a barrier. I thrust it toward Fenric, intercepting his magic before it could reach Malek.
The collision between the two forces roared like a volcano, producing a flash that blinded everyone in the square—including me.
Fenric staggered backward, his eyes wide with shock after his attack was stopped. He hadn't expected me, cursed or not, to wield magic with control, considering I had never shown much skill before.
"You! You freak!" he screeched, pointing at me. "You betrayed your own people! You betrayed your father!"
"My father would never order an attack like this, Fenric," I shot back. My hands still tingled from the aftershock of the magic, but I held my ground between Malek and the lord. "What did you do to him?"
Fenric stepped back, his surprise fading quickly into calculation. His gaze flicked from me to Leone, finally settling on Kael’s lifeless body.
"Your father is a coward," he sneered, venom dripping from every word. "A weak-willed lord who allowed these savages to encroach upon our lands. I won't let him destroy Ceilte's reputation!"
"You have no authority to speak for Ceilte, Fenric," Leone intervened calmly. "My father is the Lord of Ceilte, and you are nothing more than a traitor."
Fenric laughed—a dry, brittle sound that never reached his crazed eyes.
"This doesn't end here, orc!" he snarled. "And you vermin will pay for this. I am the true strength of Ceilte, and you are nothing more than worms crawling in the dirt! The throne will be mine, and you will learn what happens to traitors!"
With a sharp motion, Fenric summoned a portal. The dark rift tore open behind him, exhaling the sharp scent of ozone. He stepped through it and vanished in a flash of light and shadow, abandoning his son’s body behind him.
Silence fell so suddenly that even breathing sounded too loud.
The ground of the village lay stained with blood. Bodies of High Fae and orcs were scattered across the place where children once ran and played, their innocence now touched by war. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, mingling with the lingering odor left behind by Fenric’s portal.
Malek moved first. He lowered his axe; the sound of metal striking the earth carried a dry finality. With his eyes fixed on me—searching, questioning—he stepped closer.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied, my body relaxing at his proximity, the tension of battle finally draining away.
Leone, pale and visibly shaken, looked at Kael’s body, then at Malek, and finally at me.
"We need to go back to Ceilte."
His declaration forced me to focus on the urgency of the situation. We had no idea what Fenric’s next move would be; by now, he could already be preparing another attack, using Kael’s death to justify calling upon the Autumn Court to wipe out the Okshai clan.
"Yes," I agreed, turning to Malek. "I have to go with him."
His large, warm hand—still stained with Fae blood and his own—rose to cradle my cheek.
"I’m going with you."
"You can't, Malek," I said, shaking my head with regret. "If Alasdair is missing and Fenric staged this attack, you have to remain here. The people need their Ruk’hai."
He clenched his fists, frustration burning in his eyes.
"I’m not letting you go alone."
"She’ll be with me," Leone intervened, sounding more resolute than ever. "I’m going with her. And you, Ruk’hai, have responsibilities here."
Malek studied Leone carefully, weighing the change in the heir’s demeanor. For the first time, no contempt remained in his gaze—only reluctant respect.
"Go," Malek said at last, his voice low and rough. "But take Drak with you. He’ll make sure you arrive safely."
I nodded, understanding that time allowed no further argument. Malek pulled me into a desperate embrace, burying his face against my shoulder.
"Return to me, krash’uk," he whispered. "And if Fenric touches a single hair on your head, I’ll kill him."
"Protect Oksha."
It was the only thing I asked.
He pressed his forehead against mine, drawing in a deep breath, committing my scent to memory.
"Go," he murmured at last. "Before I change my mind."