Authors: Jocelyn Fox
She smiled and shook her head. “No next shift for you. Maeve’s orders.”
I sighed. “I don’t need to be treated with kid gloves. I’d rather be
useful
.”
“I’d say that destroying that smoke-creature was useful.”
“Point taken. But you know what I mean.”
“If you mean that you never feel as though you do enough,” Calliea said, “I understand all too well. But all have their place, and for now yours is with the High Queen.”
“I’m not bound to the High Queen,” I replied, taking another sip of
kal
to give my mind time to filter my words. “If I want to work in the healing ward, I’d hope my help would be welcomed.”
Calliea gave me a long look, her heart-shaped face uncharacteristically grave. “I am not saying your help would not be welcomed. I am just saying that there are others who have taken on the task, and we cannot do what you must do.”
A low hum from the Caedbranr filled the small compartment. I nudged the scabbard with one toe. “Of course you have input when it involves taking sides,” I muttered at it. The emerald in the pommel glimmered at me in lazy amusement.
“Tess,” Calliea said in a softer voice, “I understand that you want to help, I truly do. But please trust me when I say that the
vyldretning
needs your help more than the wounded in the healing ward.” She smiled wryly. “What I meant before was to say that your talents and mine are not quite interchangeable.”
I nodded. “I understand.” I gazed up at the cloth of the tent overhead. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”
Calliea touched my shoulder briefly and then stood. “I’d still appreciate a visit every now and again.”
“Of course. I’m still your apprentice. I’ll come bother you when you’re off watch.” I grinned up at her. She flashed me a quick smile before sliding past the curtain. I finished my
kal
, watching the shadows pooled in the folds of the curtains, unlit by Farin’s brightly burning aura. Setting my empty mug aside, I stretched my legs a bit more and then stood, straightening the sleeping furs and neatly folding the shirt I’d appropriated, resisting the urge to pull it over my head and feel the fabric against my skin. Farin fluttered her wings and crossed her ankles, leaning back on the shoulder of Finnead’s armor.
“Does it smell like him?” she asked slyly.
“You should stop being so nosy if you want to help me vanquish the next Dark creature,” I replied, raising an eyebrow at the fierce little Glasidhe.
“Don’t blame me for asking,” Farin said with a giggle.
I stood in the middle of the compartment and surveyed my work. It wasn’t as crisp and neat as when Finnead arranged things, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on the reason, but it would do. I put a hand to my hair, sighed at the halo of frizz and flyaways and shook my braid loose. With my fingers as a comb and the limitations of my braiding skills, I couldn’t replicate Calliea’s handiwork, but I managed to wrestle my hair into a passable plait. I pulled on my boots and slung the Sword’s strap over my head. Farin leapt from her perch on the armor to take up her customary position on my shoulder, small hands touching my ear momentarily as she gained her balance. I waited until she was settled and then pulled the curtain aside, stepping into the main area of the Queen’s tent.
The murmur of voices immediately enveloped me. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the deep, velvety shadows and the sudden points of light hovering above the map-table, suspended like miniature stars in the dusky upper reaches of the tent. Finnead, Gray, Luca, Chael, Merrick and Calliea gathered about the table. So Calliea hadn’t left me to go back to the healing ward; she’d left the council briefly to check on me. Vell stood with her back to me, her knuckles resting lightly on the edge of the table as she contemplated the large map spread before her. A coppery spark in the pool of darkness in the corner caught my eye. I could just make out Arcana’s slim outline.
Vell looked over her shoulder. “Ah, Lady Bearer. Come and join the discussion.”
I pulled back my shoulders slightly and strode across the tent. Vell looked at Gray, who wordlessly stepped to one side, freeing a space by the High Queen. My eyes swept over the huge map, painstakingly inked on pale, supple leather, stretching the entire breadth and width of the table, with a neat roll by the edge of the table nearest us. I felt my eyebrows rise incredulously at the scope and detail of the map. “This looks like all of Faeortalam.”
“Most of it,” replied Merrick. “There’s some uncertainty as to the exact borders of the Deadlands, and there’s the possibility that the mountains have shifted in the Far North….but a good portion, yes.”
“So what are we discussing,” I said, noting that the marks representing attacks by Malravenar’s creatures had been copied onto the map. I found our position by spying a skillfully rendered skull with massive headspikes—the dragon’s grave. A small distance to the southeast, a sketched tent represented our camp. A small carved set of figurines for a game something like chess had been commandeered, the figure of an archer with a drawn bow standing near the symbol for the camp.
“War plans,” said Vell. She tapped a finger near a mounted knight to the south of us, near the Hall of the Outer Guard. “Titania and the Seelie forces are underway from the Hall. They will still most likely reach us before the Unseelie Court.” Her finger trailed delicately over the map, passing over forests and plains and then the ravening gorge of the Darinwel, stopping at another carved knight. I smiled a bit: the carved knight representing the Seelie was white, and the figurine for the Unseelie was black, with the archer standing for the
vyldgard
painted scarlet. “It might be as long as a fortnight, perhaps even two, before the Unseelie complete their journey.” Vell spread her hands over the map, resting just her fingertips on the surface. “We must decide what to do in this time.”
“Reconnaissance,” I said immediately. I saw Finnead look at Gray pointedly, one eyebrow raised; and Gray shrugged. My hackles rose slightly. “I know that I’m not necessarily as trained as all of you, but I’ve done my own research, in my own way. I understand basic tactics.”
“With the dragon dead, we should scout from the air,” Calliea said quickly on the heels of my words, making me think that she’d been advocating for this course of action before her brief respite from the council to check on me.
“There are too many unknowns,” replied Gray, shaking her head.
Vell watched and listened to the exchange, her golden eyes unreadable.
“We cannot advocate caution in the face of this final battle,” protested Calliea, her delicate face fierce with emotion. “Caution and delay in facing the Shadow has already caused too many deaths. We will finally be united, three Queens under one banner, and if my share of peril is to fly the skies without knowing the creatures which I will encounter, so be it.”
“We do not even know if the
faehal
will remain winged,” Gray rejoined.
“They shall,” said Vell with a quiet air of authority.
Calliea gestured triumphantly. “We killed the dragon, the greatest threat to our forces from the air. On our scouting missions, surely Malravenar will send his other winged creatures, and we will dispatch them before the final battle.” She raised her chin defiantly at her cousin. “So we will serve a dual purpose: scouting and drawing forth the enemy’s airborne weapons.”
“The idea has merit,” said Finnead levelly. Gray looked at him sharply, but he remained impassive. I wondered why Gray opposed Calliea’s plan so staunchly—was it that the newly-baptized Laedrek had been given command of the Valkyries, whom Gray had led into the battle against the dragon?
“How many of your Valkyrie are fit to fly?” Vell asked in that same quiet yet authoritative voice. The air around her shimmered slightly and the crown gleamed on her pale brow.
“Eighteen,” Calliea answered promptly. She paused. “And there are three
faehal
who were not injured, though their riders were. If you would allow me to choose three additional warriors, that would bring it up to twenty-one.”
“I do not think it will be an easy thing, to give these mounts to other riders,” Vell said. “But do what you think best, Laedrek.”
Calliea blinked but then bowed her head. “As you command, my queen.” She raised her gaze to the map. “We will travel in three flights of six, or seven if the new Valkyrie are ready to ride out.” Leaning over the table, she took a piece of sharpened charcoal and lightly drew three smooth arcs leading from our camp into the heart of the Deadlands. “One flight will cover the lands to the north, one to the west, and one to the south. With your approval, my Queen, I will lead the western flight.”
I eyed the trajectory of the western arc—it traveled directly over the site of the Great Gate, arrowing into mountains that looked sinister even just drawn on a map. Of course Calliea would choose to lead the most perilous mission. Merrick stared down at the map grimly, and Gray glanced between Calliea and Vell. A strange calm settled over Calliea as she kept her gaze on the High Queen, awaiting the final verdict. Vell contemplated the map thoughtfully.
“Finnead,” she said finally. “How many of your mounted force are ready for battle?”
Finnead didn’t answer as quickly as Calliea. After a moment he said, “At least threescore.” He examined the routes Calliea had sketched. “Fifteen for each vanguard,” he said.
“You would not be comfortable with less?” Vell mused.
“A dozen for each, but I do not want to sacrifice too much power for speed. The fastest Dark forces we have encountered were in the air; we should be much faster than any creatures on the ground.”
“The key word being ‘should,’” I muttered, swallowing against the knot forming in my chest. Farin patted my ear and then leapt from my shoulder, bowing to Vell.
“The Glasidhe will gladly fly with the Valkyrie,” she said.
“Thank you for your steadfast friendship, Farin, and you shall fly with the Valkyrie in our final battle,” said Vell seriously to the diminutive warrior. “Yet I would ask you to stay, and lead your people here, as messengers and helpmeets for the time being.”
“We fight the Shadow as you do,” replied Farin with another bow.
Vell looked at Finnead. I felt something shiver through the air between them—a thought vibrating down their connection, I mused. Finnead nodded slightly. His eyes found mine as he said, “I will lead the western vanguard.”
My stomach twisted and before I could close my teeth on the words I said, “I’m going.”
Vell straightened and turned to me, a half smile playing on her lips. “Bored already, Tess?”
I recovered my composure and replied with a grin, “Of course.”
“I will lead the northern vanguard,” said Luca from across the table. “Can’t let everyone else have all the excitement.”
“That leaves the southern vanguard,” said Vell, crossing her arms as she gazed down at the map again.
“I will go,” said Merrick.
“No, Arrisyn.” The High Queen shook her head, her voice calm, the denial almost perfunctory, the greater portion of her attention still focused on the map. Then she looked up and saw the chagrin on Merrick’s face, quickly hidden behind his Unseelie mask but visible for a moment nonetheless. “Your thirst for battle is admirable, but I cannot send
all
of my most trusted warriors afield at once.” She smiled wryly. “In case you forget, I have not been a queen for very long, and I still seek advice from my closest advisors.”
The tension around the table eased slightly.
“Finnead, choose your commander for the southern vanguard,” Vell continued.
Finnead nodded in acknowledgement, his focus returning to the map as he studied the layout of the lands he would be traveling. The lands
we
would be traveling, I corrected myself. The Sword hummed a little in anticipation.
“He will know you are there,” Arcana said from the shadows.
“I don’t care what he
knows
,” replied Calliea. Vell smiled a little.
Arcana tilted her head. “Bravado counts for little against this Dark host.”
Two spots of color appeared high on Calliea’s cheekbones. “It is not
bravado
, you—”
“Peace, Laedrek,” commanded Vell. Calliea closed her mouth around her next words but her eyes glimmered with anger. Vell didn’t reprimand Arcana, though I thought I felt a tightening of that same invisible connection between the Queen and the most enigmatic of her Three. Her next words sliced through the air, delivered in the calm, cool voice that I now associated with Vell the High Queen rather than Vell the
ulfdrengr
. “If you have any
constructive
words of caution for those about to begin this scouting mission, we will hear them.”
Arcana looked at Vell blankly for a long moment. A copper spark drifted from her mouth when she opened her lips. I wondered briefly if the sparks that flew from the deity-remnant’s mouth could set the tent on fire, or if they were only heatless bits of light. “Do not underestimate the creatures of Malravenar.” She paused, her emotionless eyes sweeping over the gathered council. “The Darkness is cunning. It does not merely wish to extinguish the light of life because it is its nature—though that is true as well.” Another fleck of fire, colored scarlet rather than copper, leaked from the corner of Arcana’s mouth, drifting lazily downward like a fallen leaf rather than spiraling upward like an errant firefly. “The creatures of the Dark Lord
hate
the light. Some do not possess the intelligence to understand why, but the most dangerous are those of his legion who know that life illuminates their cravenness. True and free living creatures underscore their twisted, monstrous origins.”
I thought suddenly of the black-robed sorcerer, standing on the edge of the cliff above the Darinwel, sending a
garrelnost
onto the bridge behind us as flames rose before us. My hands clenched as I remembered the alien force of his voice inside my head…and the terrible sound of bone breaking as the sorcerer broke loyal, fierce Kavoryk’s neck with a flick of his hand. I swallowed against the sudden thickness in my throat, straightening as Arcana turned her head and looked at me.