Chapter 30 #2
Malek squeezed my hand again, the warmth of his touch giving me strength.
King Faélán watched us carefully; the balance of power was tipping in our favor.
Should he decide on war, he would violate the treaty with the Winter Court, which dictated Lyraen as a neutral region and therefore exempt from war.
If Faélán went to war with us and conquered Ceilte, he would also have trouble with the other Courts.
“Unfortunately for you, I can’t allow that,” he replied at last, surprising me. Did he truly prefer to risk the tenuous alliance with the enemy Court rather than return our father?
With a brief gesture of his hand, hundreds of guards armed with bows and arrows appeared upon the walls of Brathadair, aiming them at us.
Faélán’s eyes gleamed with triumph.
“I must congratulate you, Lord Leone. You and your sister have nerves of steel to threaten a Court. But I must remind you: a sick Fae has no exchange value to me, and a handful of savages doesn’t intimidate my soldiers.”
Malek let go of my hand and stepped forward.
“You’re mistaken, kir’shakur. We’ll be your death,” he growled, that hoarse and guttural voice I loved so much echoing through the clearing like a promise.
The king didn’t even blink at the threat, his posture straight and his mask of contempt intact.
“Arrest the heirs of Alasdair!” he commanded the guards. “Kill the orcs.”
Everything happened in the blink of an eye. One moment I was at Malek’s side; the next, he pulled me behind his body, rising like a shield between me and the arrows aimed in our direction.
Behind us, the Okshai warriors let out a war cry loud enough to chill even the bravest heart. Then, as one, they surged toward the guards. Leone drew his sword, a silent command for the warriors of Ceilte surrounding Brathadair to attack.
As if time slowed, I saw the guards draw back their bowstrings and release. Hundreds of arrows sliced through the air toward us, deadly and far too fast for escape. In front of me, my orc tensed, caring little for how vulnerable that position left him so long as I was protected.
Panic seized me, and the An Talamh responded to my instinct. Without thinking, I summoned it. The force of the earth erupted from my fingers, no longer a soft mist but a wall of pure emerald-green energy, dense and vibrant.
The arrows remained suspended in the air. The flash of the An Talamh illuminated Malek’s face as he turned to me, his eyes wide but filled with pride.
“My krash’uk,” he whispered with a bared-tooth grin, before letting out a guttural battle roar.
Leone, at my side, seized the confusion. “Attack!” he bellowed, and the army of Ceilte surged forward with renewed fervor.
The arrows fell harmlessly to the ground, but the emerald-green barrier of magic remained, vibrating with the strength of the land of Marukoksha behind us.
Malek surged forward, his axe tracing a deadly arc through the air. He was a blur of fury and strength, striking the line of guards who were desperately trying to reorganize. His roar resonated, mingling with the cries of the Okshai, who now fought with ferocity while shielded by my magic.
Leone, sword in hand, engaged the other guards. He moved with speed and precision, seizing the chaos to advance toward the king, who was retreating into the midst of his soldiers.
“Your Majesty, surrender!” Leone shouted, his voice filled with authority. “Release Alasdair!”
Faélán, however, did not listen. His face was a mask of pure hatred. He raised his hand, and a pulse of Fae magic, the color of autumn leaves, struck the An Talamh barrier. The shock was painful and made my entire body vibrate.
“You won’t stop me, aberration!” he screamed.
The pain became the spark I needed. The An Talamh was not magic meant for attack; it was the magic of life, creation, and protection. But the moment Faélán tried to harm me, I felt the ground beneath my feet tremble. I directed the energy into the soil, surrounding the guards of the Autumn Court.
Thick, thorny roots erupted from the ground with the violence of whips, snagging the guards' ankles and dragging them down. Confusion spread among them, and the Okshai and the soldiers of Ceilte surged forward, capitalizing on the moment of weakness.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Malek. I understood why he was called Strong-Axe. His muscles contracted with every strike, his entire body moving with brutal efficiency as he raised his weapon and brought it down with devastating force, cleaving through guards and splitting skulls apart.
He was the embodiment of strength and fury, and I was his anchor—the magical shield that kept him protected.
The An Talamh barrier did not waver, yet I couldn’t attack and defend at the same time.
With every strike from Faélán, I felt the energy draining from me, exhausting my magical reserves.
As if that were not enough, the Fae of Grìosach kept appearing, one after another, without end.
“Fiona, look out!” Leone shouted.
I turned just in time to see a male charging toward me with his sword leveled.
The blade sliced through the air with a whistle; I dodged by a hair’s breadth and used my axe to block the next strike.
The clash of metal made my arms ache, but I did as Malek had taught me and kept my body rooted to the ground.
The Fae tried to push me back, but I was stronger than he expected.
“You won’t touch her!” Malek roared.
Before the High Fae could react, Malek’s axe flew toward us, unerring, striking him in the chest in a clean and precise motion.
Blood spattered across the ground, and my Ruk’hai rushed to my side, his breathing heavy but his eyes fixed on Faélán, who stood further back, protected by his guards.
Malek shot me a warning look. “They’re retreating.”
Faélán’s Royal Guard moved at once, parting to form a living shield before the king as they fell back toward the walls. If they made it inside, the advantage would be theirs; fighting them within would be far more difficult.
The Okshai troops and the warriors of Ceilte surged forward, crashing into the rearguard of the Autumn Court Fae.
“Don’t let them escape!” Leone shouted, his voice hoarse from the effort.
Everyone turned their gaze toward the group slowly retreating, tightly clustered around their sovereign.
“They’re going to close the gate!” I realized, panic rising in my throat.
“No, they won’t,” Malek growled.
Faélán turned to glare at Malek, the surprise on his face evident. He had expected to leave us outside, forcing us to retreat.
“Fall back!” Faélán screamed to his guards. “Get inside and close the barrier!”
A chaos that would leave the Goddess Nemain envious took hold.
The Royal Guard rushed, desperate to prevent the gate from falling, while Malek pressed on with renewed ferocity, Leone close behind.
I ran after the Ruk'hai, maintaining the An Talamh barrier around us. Without my protective shield, he would have been an easy target for Faélán’s magical attacks.
Guards lunged at us to block our approach, but my orc was like a storm.
Even without his beloved weapon, he reaped lives with his bare hands, clearing a path so that Leone could advance toward Faélán.
“Malek, the barrier!” I screamed, feeling my energy deplete. The effort to maintain the An Talamh against Faélán’s magical strikes and the guards' brute force was immense.
He heard me. Without turning, Malek let out a thunderous roar and lunged toward Faélán. The king, sensing the threat, turned to him with his hand raised. A wave of magic, more violent this time, surged toward my mate. He didn’t flinch; instead, he used his own body as a shield.
“No!” I shrieked.
The An Talamh erupted from me again, but it was too late.
Faélán’s spell struck Malek head-on, and the force hurled him backward.
The cry of pain that escaped him was the last thing I heard.
I ran toward him, fury and fear consuming me.
Faélán turned to me with a mocking smile, ready to deliver another blow.
“You’re weak, Lady Fionnuala,” he jeered. “You could never win against me.”
Malek wheezed, but his gaze told me everything I needed to know: he was as well as could be expected.
I sighed in relief and allowed myself a brief smile before standing again.
The fury of seeing my male, my fated mate, fall on the ground because of that loathsome king was unlike anything I had ever felt before.
Something fierce, ancient, and hungry for the king's blood awakened within me.
In response, the ancestral magic I carried—always deemed weak when compared to that of my female ancestors—shattered its limits in a force impossible to contain.
The redhead’s eyes widened as he felt the shift. An Talamh was nature itself, the very earth beneath our feet, and not even the king of a Court could fight against it. I felt no fear in using it. In truth, nothing made more sense in that moment than the magic coursing through my veins.
“Farewell, King Faélán,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me. “I hope your stay in Soleit is quite unpleasant.”
The last thing I heard before releasing the magic was a familiar voice screaming—
“Fiona, no!”