Chapter 52
The Dark Peaks grew blacker with each passing day. The green hazy twilight she had become accustomed to day in and day out in The Dread Lands was slowly becoming an endless night. Mount Morte loomed in the distance, calling her. Like calls to like. Her blood whispered thoughts of darkness as the peak of the mountain shifted back behind the thick haze.
The Dread Ring on her finger pulsed with warning in the all too quiet castle, drawing her from her balcony and down into the castle.
She stilled at the top of the stairs in the Entrance Hall.
Mal looked up at her with low shoulders as he staggered. His eyes were a dark relief with no flecks of green visible. Maeve surged towards him, flying down the staircase.
Mal only made it up a few steps before he fell, hardly catching himself. Maeve was at his side a moment later, pulling him up. His dark clothes were wet with blood.
“Why do you keep going out there?” She asked, running her hands along the bleeding mess of his chest.
He did not answer. She knew the answer. There was no changing his mind.
“I see the darkness growing in The Dark Peaks, Mal,” she said. “I see what this is doing to you. One day you are mine and the next your mind and your Magic are foreign to me.”
Mal’s eyes bore into hers, panic flooding them. “Am I losing my mind?”
Maeve’s heart twisted. “No, My Prince,” she said softly, brushing his hair from sweating forehead. “Allow me to help you.”
Magic thrummed deep in her core, guiding her. She ran two fingers across her palm, splitting the skin instantly. Cupping the back of his head with her clean hand, She placed her palm at his lips. His eyes widened as her blood hit his tongue.
One swallow and he collapsed in her arms.
Her bleeding hand fell as she held him close. Maeve gently wiped the blood that stained his lips and chin, ensuring his skin was perfectly clean.
When Astrea had arrived at her side, she did not know. She didn’t hear the girl’s muffled words as Alphard kneeled before them. Astrea took Maeve’s bloodied hand smoothly and healed the wound with ease. A moment later, Mal was in Alphard’s arms and he and Astrea were gone.
Roswyn kneeled before her. He mouthed something. And then again.
Maeve’s eyes closed and when she opened them, Roswyn said her name a third time.
“Sinclair.”
With a heavy breath, she looked up at him.
“What are you going to do?” He asked.
She didn’t respond. She looked down at the stairs. Drops of her blood gleamed across the dark and shining stone.
Mal was suffering. And he may have been suffering for her, for all Magicals, but she wouldn’t, no-she couldn’t, go on watching him fade into darkness.
Roswyn stared at her. Maeve looked up at him once more, and then pushed off the stairs. She pulled her hair back, braiding the top section messily as she jogged down the stairs.
Roswyn was on her heels. She stormed across the courtyards to the stables. Her father’s horse, Spitfire greeted her silently, already saddled and ready for her.
“He specifically commanded you to remain here at Castle Morana,”said Roswyn as she swung her leg around her father’s horse. The silver and grey speckled mare stood taller than the rest of the horses in the stables, save for Obsidian, Mal’s black Clydesdale.
“Mal isn’t in his right mind, Roswyn. You bloody well know it. I am sick of sitting in this castle pretending like we aren’t about to lose him.”
She yanked on Spitfire’s reins as Roswyn snatched them up.
“You misunderstand. I’m coming with you,” he said.
Maeve opened her mouth to snap at him and closed it quickly. Arman stepped hastily into the stables. With a sharp whistle, he stalked towards them. He grabbed a saddle as his horse trotted towards him. He looked at Roswyn.
“Hurry up, then,” said Arman.
Roswyn straightened and obeyed at once.
As he pulled himself atop a horse, Arman looked over at Maeve, answering her unasked question.
“I saw Alphard carrying him to the Healing Chamber,” he said.
Maeve looked away and straightened.
“Do you know what’s out there? Beyond the Barrier?” He asked.
“No,” said Maeve. “But we are about to find out. I am tired of hiding in these walls.”
Roswyn moved to her other side.
Without another word, Maeve squeezed her legs together, and Spitfire charged forward. She barreled through the gardens of Castle Morana, which lay dead and devoid of life once more.
The horses climbed the winding, narrow, paths into the Dark Peaks. They had not passed The Barrier when the sound of snapping twigs and branches cracked across the silent hills.
Maeve sat deeper in the saddle, slowing Spitfire. They waited a moment, all intently listening. She looked over her shoulder at Roswyn and Arman.
“I’ll take the lead,” said Roswyn as he pressed forward on his horse.
She’d never been so far into the mountains. Just as Roswyn had said, she’d been forbidden from the place. Dark Magic lingered in the air. They were not welcome.
The trail opened up into a small valley between peaks. With a sigh, Maeve brought them to a stop.
“There’s nothing here,” said Roswyn. “We should just go back.”
Maeve navigated Spitfire around him, her eyes narrowed at the far wall of cliffs. “There’s movement.”
Arman pulled up next to her as the movement grew larger. Closer. She could make out the faint shape of. . .three people.
“What are those things?” Spat Roswyn.
The creatures crawled and limped closer, some of them missing entire limbs.
“Are those. . .people?” Asked Arman quietly.
They drew closer, barreling towards them without pause.
“Look,” said Roswyn, pointing past the trees, “there’s others.”
Four more of the strange creatures made their way towards them.
“Not people,” said Maeve, as the Magic in her veins screamed danger.
The creatures had traits of a human–of a Magical. Eyes, ears, fingers, and bodies just like theirs. But something was wrong with each of them. They were deformed, each in their own unique way. Skin hung from their bodies, some removed completely, exposing their bones.
A bright red shot of Magic whizzed between her and Arman. Their heads whipped to the side incredulously.
“Merlin and Primus,” said Roswyn, “they have Magic.”
Maeve gripped the reins on Spitfire as Arman threw up a shield. Another blast of Magic swirled towards them, shattering his shield at once.
“Seven fucking realms,” said Roswyn, shocked that these gangly creatures broke through a Supreme like Arman’s shield so easily.
Maeve hoisted her leg off Spitfire, and grabbed the horse's face. “Stay back.”
Spitfire circled her once and trotted into the tree line. Arman and Roswyn followed her lead, dismounting their horses and preparing for the fight on foot.
Roswyn fired at once. His Magic ripped through one of the creatures, splitting its head from its body. It continued barreling towards them.
“What?” He barked.
The two groups of unusual creatures were nearly upon them. Maeve fired on them with three consecutive shots, each one having little effect on their pursuit.
Arman’s brows pulled together. “Prepare for a physical battle.”
Roswyn’s fists clenched at his sides. “Each take one?” He asked, as the original three were yards away.
“Great,” muttered Maeve.
They Obscured in synch, each landing face-to-face with the haggard creatures. Maeve’s was missing most of its left leg. With two fingers, she aimed at the creature’s hip area, severing the limb entirely. It dropped to the rocky ground, the creature falling with it.
Maeve stepped back in disgust as it continued to writhe towards her.
Arman and Roswyn dove for their creatures, pinning them to the ground. Their fists slammed into the creature’s decaying faces, smashing its bones to nothing.
“Why. Won’t. You. Die?” Roswyn seethed between Magical punches.
Arman placed his hands on the creature’s chest, sending a blast of Magic potent enough to kill ten Magicals through it. Its bones exploded across the ground, but its flailing arms still gripped Arman, ripping his skin to shreds.
Arman’s arms oozed blood. The Supreme seemed unaffected as he shoved off the twitching creature.
Maeve’s spine prickled as swarms of the creatures crawled down the mountainside.
Roswyn Obscured further up the hill, taking on the set of four. Each blow of his Magic, knocked them back, sometimes even dislodging parts of their bodies, but they never stopped in their pursuit.
Arman faced the horde of creatures crawling towards them boldly. “We cannot allow them to continue down the mountains towards Castle Morana.”
Maeve nodded as he ran towards them, prepared to pummel them all, if that’s what it took.
Lightning crackled at her fingers. She circled her arm in a whiplike motion, prepared to strike the line of creatures running at them. The band of lightning let loose–
Sharp needles wrapped her ankle. She hit the rocky terrain with force and warmth trickled down the side of her head as it split open. Her lightning dissipated at once. The terrain spun as she twisted onto her back in agony. The creature holding her was half submerged in the earth as its bony and decayed hand gripped her leg, climbing higher from the ground.
Sedating and nauseating Magic swirled up her leg. She fell against the ground with a groan. Her head rolled to the side and she saw the single creature she’d manage to hit with her lightning lay still. Its body dissolved to ash in a matter of seconds.
“It’s fire,” she said, realizing how to kill the creatures. “Arman,” she called out as her vision blurred, “it’s fi–”
More creatures broke free from the ground. Breaking through dirt and roots and stone, they crawled towards her pinning her to the ground in a swarm.
Hundreds of hands broke from the Earth, all of them touching her and dragging her across the unforgiving terrain further up the Dark Peaks. Each bony and chilled hand that gripped her sent her further into darkness. She fought consciousness, shooting what Magic she could muster towards them.
It made no difference. She could barely open her eyes.
Her stomach flipped as warmth dripped across her face in little drops. The rugged ground was replaced with cold air. Some sensation returned to her as her eyes opened and she stumbled forwards. Arman’s grip never faltered as he Obscured them only a few yards.
He fell to his knees, dropping Maeve with him. She lifted her head, enough to see the creatures barreling towards them from all sides.
“Arman we need to–” she began, as he slumped into her. More of her vision returned as they fell to the cold ground together, only then did she realize he was covered in blood. His blonde hair was crimson across his forehead.
“Arman,” she gasped, pulling herself towards him. Her legs were still completely useless. She hovered over him.
“Go,” he said. “There is not time.”
“What,” she said groggily. “No-I can Obscure us–”
He smiled with blood stained teeth. “You can’t.”
Arman pushed himself up with a gut wrenching groan, ignoring Maeve’s feeble attempt to keep him down. He faced the oncoming pack of creatures. There were hundreds now.
“Don’t you dare,” said Maeve. “Obscure us again. Farther.”
“I can’t,” he said, as his knees bent. He righted himself and held his chin up with a slow breath “It’s alright,” he said weakly. His trembling hand formed a fist and landed against his heart. “I am alright dying for the daughter of my Premier.”
“No,” she said fiercely.
“Yes,” he replied. “Tell Arianna it has been her since- first m-moment I saw–”
Roswyn appeared at her side, grabbed her, and Obscured again. He teleported them down the hill. They tumbled across the rocky earth, slamming into thorny vines and jagged edges of stone.
Roswyn landed on all four and heaved. Maeve rolled further, barely able to push herself off the ground. Her body was numb.
“Don’t you dare leave him,” she seethed at Roswyn, her breathing low and sparse.
“I can only Obscure one of you,” he said sharply, pulling his beaten body upright, “and maybe not even that with this Magic pressing down on us. If I don’t get you out of here, we’ll both be dead.”
“I can Obscure all three of us,” she pushed her Magic out, sending a wave of spinning nausea through her.
“Not like this you can’t,” he snapped. “Now stop fucking fighting me.”
His hands gripped her arms tightly as her stomach flipped and darkness encased them.
The courtyard at Castle Morana blurred into vision. Roswyn’s grip loosened as she staggered sideways.
“Shit,” said a familiar voice.
Strong arms slipped around her, supporting her.
“Where’s Arman?” Asked Alphard, holding Maeve close. “Shit, shit, shit.”
She collapsed into him and pressed against his chest, trying to move back towards the gates.
“Take it easy,” said Alphard as her legs wobbled beneath the numb sensation.
Gravity shifted as he scooped the back of her knees up.
“Go back for him,” she groaned in a mumble.
“Are you out of your mind?” Asked Roswyn. “They were swarming us! Alphard and I cannot fight that off.”
“Fuck you, Roswyn.”
“Fuck me?!” The hot tempered blonde screamed. “You are the one who failed.”
“Shut the fuck up, both of you,” said Alphard sharply.
Maeve pressed her fingertips to her chest. Alphard and Roswyn both sucked in sharply at the sensation.
She called to all the Bellator who now wore Mal’s Dread Mark.
You are called to fight. Beyond the Barrier, Arman is wounded. Fight for your comrade.
She’d been so panicked she’d forgotten to tell him. . .
It’s fire, she sent through her Dread Mark. Kill them with fire.
Alphard and Roswyn’s bickering voices faded in and out as the dim firelights of Castle Morana blurred by.
“If she dies at either of our hands, Roswyn, we both die. You remember that, right?” Snapped Alphard.
“You think I can’t feel the reminder burning across my palm?” Roswyn fired back.
More firelights blurred by as she came in and out of consciousness.
Alphard set her on the soft bed in the Healing Chamber as a groan escaped her dry lips.
Abraxas rounded the corner with Astrea hot on his heels.
“Merlin, Gods, fuck,” said Abraxas as his face paled at the blood coating her front.
He shoved Alphard aside and placed himself in front of her. Astrea rounded the raised bed and placed her hands on either side of Maeve’s face.
Abraxas scanned over her quickly. “What happened, Roswyn?” He quickly scanned her body. “Do you need healing? What happened?”
“No. We got ambushed by a bunch of. . . I don’t even know.”
“Arman is out there still,” said Alphard. “I’m going to join the rest of the Bellator.”
“None of you are listening to me,” said Roswyn hotly. “He’s dead.”
Abraxas’ head whipped to Roswyn. “What?”
Alphard grabbed Roswyn by the front of his uniform and dragged him out of the hall.
Pressure built in Maeve’s head, nearly unbearable.
Astrea’s hands moved down to Maeve’s throat, covered in developing bruises. Her legs and arms would be the same.
“These wounds are all different,” said Astrea. “Multiple and of varying Magic. She was attacked by many.”
“Where’s Mal,” asked Abraxas.
“He’s sedated,” she answered. “For now.”
The pressure in Maeve’s head released as she breathed fully at last.
“Good,” said Astrea encouragingly. “Another.”
Maeve sucked in deeply.
Screams filled the castle. Maeve knew the cry well. The noise her sister made upon realizing their father was dead had been burned into the back of her mind. It played over and over on her sleepless nights while the gaunt apparition that haunted her evenings listened intently.
Maeve’s clothes were sticky and stained with her own blood, as well as Roswyn’s and Arman’s. The crowd of Bellator parted as she passed. Some of them were kneeled, their heads hung in both silent and verbal prayers.
Arman’s lifeless body lay rigid on the dark marble tile. Arianna lay next to him, her hands on his face.
Maeve stumbled towards them. Abraxas caught her.
Arianna’s helpless sob filled the hall. Maeve reached for her, slipping on the blood that pooled beneath Arman. Fear plunged down her spine, and she reacted in the nick of time, throwing up a protective shield.
Lightning burst through the hall, but Maeve’s hand was void of Magic.
Arianna glared up at her with enough hatred to bring Maeve to her knees. The impact of the floor went unfelt. Arman’s blood was cold as it seeped through her pants.
Her own tears were just as cold as they slipped down her cheeks and pooled at her jaw.
Maeve ignored the electric Magic that cracked across Arianna’s knuckles. She didn’t care about an explanation of her sister’s sudden burst of rare Magic. Magic only Maeve herself possessed.
Arianna sucked in multiple sharp sobs of uncontrolled breathing. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
One by one, the Bellator closed their fists over their hearts. With dirty and bloodied hands, Maeve took Arman’s fingers and curled them under. She placed his fist on his chest in salute.
When her own fist sat over her heart, she said, “Milites.”
“Mundi,” rippled through the hall from hundreds of Magicals.