Chapter 46
Chapter forty-six
FINN
As soon as the Lia Fáil roared, Finn knew that it was all over – the battle.
He wheeled his stallion around, Failinis still ravaging whatever Albion soldiers dared to approach the two of them – the bárd of the Fianna and the hound of Lugh, gods how it thrilled him, soothed him, to know that here in his last stand, the magic of old éire was still fierce and strong– and waited with bated breath, almost oblivious to the tremors rattling the stones and uprooting the trees all around him, of the terrified shrieks and screams f mingling with the ear-shattering roar of the rock of destiny.
Finn did not shout, in fear or in celebration, but sat unmoving, and waited for what he knew would come next.
Did she not remember, he thought, heart clenching as several long, tense moments passed and nothing appeared on the horizon of the high green hill.
Had she forgotten, what they had discussed, the plan for the newfound power that the Lia Fáil would grant her, that would send the Albions running or the sea, should any of them survive what horror she was meant to awake, to call forth from the deep slumbering corners of the sky and the wind?
It was to be his signal, as well, the sign for him to raise his voice in song for the last time, to call forth his brothers-in-arms, so long lost to him, to ride once more into battle by his father’s side, and then, his fate accepted, to slip into the shadows of the land between the worlds and await his passage across the star-studded sea, his duty done, his vow – at last – fulfilled.
“Come now, a bhréone,” he whispered, licking at the sweat beading across his lip. “Come now – do not fail us now.”
As if she heard his whispered words, this last encouragement, the final request he would ever make of her, it happened –a savage, deafening splintering, and then from the distance, far beyond the clouds lazily meandering across the summer sky, he heard it – an unholy skreiching.
Finn’s chest shuddered as he sighed in relief, dropping his sword to the ground as he raised his own arms in the air, even as far above him on the hill, he saw her emerge to do the same, and his breath caught at the sight of her – his queen, burning bright with the boundless power of the deathless gods.
The pale blue sky grew black and blurred, thousands of skreiching, misshapen forms descending onto the blue-and-gold sea of soldiers beneath them – monstrous creatures, the bocánach, bat-like wings and hideous goatish horned heads, the most dreaded beasts of the air and the sky, who fed on the fear and the violence of battle.
And Rory had called them forth, set them free from their airy prisons, for one purpose and one purpose only.
Complete and utter annihilation.
He could help with that.
Even though it would cost him his life.
Finn clenched his fists, still raised high in the air, opened his mouth and began to sing.