31
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It seemed archaic to me, but the pixies of Speur took to the skies and beat drums of war as we crossed Cluaineach.
I tried to see things the way that Killian saw them. The way that all of the pixies saw them. But as we finished crossing the outskirts of the main village of Cluaineach, that resolve was fading in me again.
Which would have been fine, I had half a day more of travelling to come to terms with the war that was about to claim so many lives. Or at least I should have, but as we left the village and castle behind us and continued North, the horizon in front of us darkened.
Not because the sun was fading, the sun was very much still high in the sky. The reason for the long stretch of darkness across the meadow that stretched for all of eternity was none other than a host of pixies. The same size as our own, if not a little bit smaller.
The Rachainn had advanced on us just as we had advanced on them. I wanted to believe, with all of my heart, that it had been a coincidence. Yet something deep down in my chest knew otherwise, warned me otherwise.
Raegan, Queen Tonn, Diarmuid, and King Nevan all lifted their hands into the air. As one, our army halted and horns were raised, melodies of darkness spilling over Cluaineach as they were blown.
And then silence. Eerie, untameable silence that somehow was far worse than the beating war drums that had stopped or the hollowed horns that had paused.
And in that silence, I finally heard what Killian had been talking about.
He was right; it wasn’t a peace before a storm but a last breath before a plunge, an acceptance and a calling all in one that rippled over our army.
Thousands of pixies moved towards us, their footsteps one solid noise that thundered across the meadow.
Bats soared in the air above, accompanied with crows and ravens, hawks and beetles, dragonflies and moths.
On the ground were horses and moles, rabbits and foxes, domesticated cats and wolves.
Between them all, upon them all, were the Rachainn.
My heart dropped.
I looked at them and all I saw were pixies. All I saw were creatures just like my friends, creatures that other animals had deemed worthy of caraid, beating hearts and operating lungs and wild looks on their faces. Pixies, not Rachainn, but pixies just like the ones at my sides.
How had they become so divided?
Their army halted half a field away, and one lone male began a slow walk towards us upon what looked like a grizzly bear; dark cacao pelt and parted mouth showing sharp fangs.
Raegan, Queen Tonn, Diarmuid, and King Nevan began to move towards him.
Raegan on Rìoghail, the golden pegasus as impressive as ever as his muscles shifted with every small movement.
Queen Tonn rode a creature that could easily have been a sea-horse with four legs, a beast as blue as the sea and mane as fluid as seaweed.
Diarmuid rode forth on his skulking fox, his tremendous ears easily visible amongst their small group.
And King Nevan moved towards the Rachainn on a dragon-fly, sizeable and shimmering beneath the sun where his iridescent wings scattered rainbows against the ground.
Urram pinched me.
“Ow, what was that for?” I hissed at him as I rubbed at my shoulder.
“Go with them,” he squawked.
“Yeah, no thanks.”
He pinched me again.
“Urram!”
I was graced with pinch after pinch, until my whole body toppled forwards and my legs took over, taking me one step at a time towards Raegan and the rest. Gliocas twisted his head over his shoulder from where he sat on Raegan’s shoulder, acknowledging my presence but doing and saying nothing about it.
~
Where we all met in the center, tension tightened like a noose around my neck.
Either the monarchs I was with had not yet noticed my being with them, or they didn’t care.
The briefest of glances from Raegan suggested it was the latter, but I cared little for which one it was.
I wanted to fade into the shadows, so I did.
I lingered behind Rìoghail, hoping his spread wings were enough to shield me from the view of the Rachainn male who met us.
He slid down from his mount, which upon closer inspection was definitely a bear. Where they got a bear from in the middle of our country I would never know.
“Greetings,” he bellowed as he made for a tight landing, sweeping some of his black hair over his shoulder and accidentally revealing his shaved ears. “My name is Uamhas.”
“Fitting,” Raegan snarled, none of the monarchs dismounting.
“Ah, you must be the Prince. Of which Kingdom, again?” Uamhas smirked, that familiar slyness of the pixies slithering across his face. “Let me guess — King Ronan is not with you?”
Raegan only grunted in response, rolling his weight over his tailbone as Rìoghail let out an unimpressed snort.
Spreading his arms out to either side of himself, Uamhas looked at each of the rulers before him. “Is this truly how we wish to do this, my kin?”
His hair, as unkempt as the rest, was as dark as his eyes beneath it. Which meant only one thing — Uamhas had once been of Choilltean. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like an extra punch to an already very sore gut.
“It never needed to be this way.”
“To that, we might agree,” Queen Tonn said, her spine impossibly straight and her crown even straighter. “Had you not slaughtered over half of my kingdom I might have been in the mood to negotiate with you, Uamhas of Nothing. But here we are.”
His eyes, sharp and lethal, slowly crawled over each of the monarchs.
“Surrender you and your people now, Uamhas, and we might find it in our hearts to spare you all,” Raegan growled.
But I saw it — right then, right there. It was in Uamhas’ eyes, just as powerful and obvious as it was in my own friends.
Pride. Honour. Glory.
For all that my friends fought for, Uamhas was planning on fighting for the same. They were not just mindless rebels, they planned to bleed and die for their cause just as the pixies of Choilltean, Speur, Uisge, and Cluaineach would.
It was then that I realized this war would be the death of all.
“I wish, Prince Raegan Righ’Fiodh’Faiche’Rugadh that you could have come to your senses, just as the late Queen of Choilltean had.”
Raegan sounded more beastly than he ever had as he let out a low warning from the back of his throat.
Uamhas tutted and strode back towards his mount, gracefully landing over the back of his withers before he looked to the monarchs of Saoghal one last time.
“Let the battle for Saoghal begin, then.”