Song of the Fairy Queen (36 page)

Kyri took a breath and nodded. “It was always and ever his plan to bring the Fair to heel, Oryan. Witness his attack on my embassy that night in Caernarvon when he attacked your castle. This is no surprise. Harsh, but no surprise. He’ll cut down the Forests, on the pretense of rooting us out. That will tie up our resources, as we must try to save what we can – the Forests are our lives. ”

Morgan’s hand tightened on her.

All of them saw the implications.

“Driving not just the Fairy but the rebels deeper into the woods, decreasing their range, increasing the risk each time they ride out,” Morgan said. “Not to mention the danger to lives from the fires themselves. We’ll have to warn them.”

Kyri’s eyes unfocused. “They know and my people have been cautioned to be very careful flying in and out of their glens and to go only by circuitous routes.”

With a sigh, Oryan nodded. “Clearing the forests will also give Haerold land he can use to reward his people for their service.”

Looking down at Kyri and then to Oryan, Morgan said, “We’re going to have to find another way to communicate. Save the Fairy for emergencies or Healing.”

He wasn’t going to risk her again.

Surprisingly, it was quiet Galan who protested first. “No. Kyriay. My Kyri…Don’t let them do this. We are in this as well.”

From Dorien, too, came protest. “No, my Kyri. This is our fight, too.”

Kyri looked at Morgan fiercely. “No, Morgan. Don’t hesitate to use us. In that Galan and Dorien have the right of it. Although I wouldn’t want to lose any of my people, it’s no more than you want to lose any of yours. This is our fight, too. We didn’t attack, we were attacked. We will not give up and we will not give in. Not to this. Live or die, we fight.”

Picking up the piece of paper, she tossed it aside.

She turned to look up at him, her aqua eyes intent on his, but understanding. “Don’t try to save us from ourselves, Morgan. If this effort fails, Haerold will only come after us anyway and there will be no one left then to aid us. Where will we be then?”

He looked down at her. They’d come so close to nearly losing her.
He
had come so close to nearly losing her. The thought nearly tore his heart in two.

Even so, he could no more ask her to back away than she would him. It wasn’t in them, either of them. They’d both been raised and bred to duty and honor.

Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and nodded.

“It works both ways, then, Kyri,” Morgan said, with a glance at Oryan for confirmation, looking at her steadily. “Until now you’ve helped us. Now, if you have need, you call.”

Oryan nodded. “Until now you’ve given and we’ve taken, gratefully I might add. Where we can, we’ll help. Now, we’re true allies. Haerold won’t wait long. He’ll strike and soon.”

A glance at Caleb from Morgan was all it took. With a nod the other man slipped out of the tent. Messengers would go out to all of the Marshals on patrol to add Fairy lands to their range.

Kyri would’ve protested the special treatment, the strain on their resources. She would’ve sent word, but she would’ve protested. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

It would stretch Oryan’s resources and his own even farther, Morgan knew, the weight settling on his shoulders, but he would find a way to try to help keep the Fairy and Kyri safe as best they could.

He tightened his arm around her.

It was the least they owed her and her people for all they’d done so far and would yet do.

The frantic Call wrenched Kyri out of sleep, sitting bolt upright in Morgan’s arms, her eyes wide and seemingly sightless, the lids fluttering as she saw things he couldn’t. Images raced through Kyri’s mind, confusing, a babble of voices Kyri struggled to make sense of.

Morgan didn’t need to ask, he already reached for his clothes and hers, his arm around her for support.

A clear sign of her agitation, her wings fluttered slightly against his arm, the feathers shifting softly.

“Talk to me, Kyri,” Morgan coaxed, his eyes intent on hers, brushing the long rippling strands of her hair back over her shoulder. “What’s happening?”

He had no doubt Haerold had finally responded.

At the touch her eyes cleared. Kyri gave him a grateful look as she found her shift in her lap.

“A glen to the west,” she said, quickly pulling it over her head. “The scouts spotted soldiers in one spot, Hunters in another. It doesn’t make sense. Dorien and Solon are on their way. I’ve called for help from Martin, the rebel leader there, too.”

Her eyes went worriedly to Morgan, “It’s going to be a hard ride for you, Morgan.”

Catching her chin in his hand, he looked at her intently and said, “We’ll manage.”

She nodded, leaning forward quickly to kiss him, before standing to let the shift settle over her hips. This dress was slightly heavier that those she’d worn in warmer months and climes, the sleeves longer, fluttering around her wrists as the skirts swirled down around her ankles, her only concession to the increasingly colder weather.

From outside the tent they heard Caleb say, “Galan?”

“Something’s wrong,” Galan explained to him. “My Kyri?”

Wrapping her sword belt around her hips, buckling it, slinging her bow and quiver over her shoulders between her wings, she called, “Coming.”

“Captain?” Caleb asked, from outside.

Morgan replied, pulling on his own clothes, “Rouse our people, Caleb, get them mounted and ready to ride long, hard and fast.”

“On my way, Captain,” Caleb said and took off at a run. His footsteps pounded.

“I’ll tell Oryan,” Morgan said, pulling Kyri into his arms for a hard quick kiss. “We’ll come. Be careful. I love you. Go.”

With a nod, she said, “I love you, too. I will.”

Then she and Galan raced for the sky, wings opening, lifting.

It would be hours before Morgan would see her again and she was going into danger. But not alone. Not this time. Galan would be with her, Dorien and Solon. Martin and his people. Morgan watched her go only long enough to hold the image of her in his mind and then he turned for Oryan’s tent at a run.

Alerted by the commotion, lanterns were already being lit within.

Kyri stroked for the high winds up where the air was thin, Galan working hard to keep up with her. That was her talent, riding the thermals. Images flashed through her mind, reports from the scouts, from the ground. She struggled to make sense of it all as she danced from one updraft to the other, that made more difficult because of the hour and time of year, the sun wasn’t yet up to truly power the thermals.

Terror burst across her nerves, not her own, that of her people and the trees.

Fire. It couldn’t have been used at a worse time, now when the leaves were brilliantly colored against the gray sky but drying, falling in drifts that were snared by the undergrowth to provide fuel to flames.

Images battered her. Flames reached for the sky, frightened Fairy were trapped… but by what? Why couldn’t they fly?

And then she was there, swooping down over the forest, seeing the flames on one side, climbing into the canopy. Too fast. It was too fast, it shouldn’t have reached there so quickly.

On the other were nets.

Thick hemp ropes had been strung through the trees. Between them were the Fairy, her people, many with unfledged children in their arms, the younger fledged children clinging close to their parents. All of them were frantic, terrified. Some of the other folk from the Glen were trying desperately to reach those trapped, but they were driven back by the flames. Below, the Hunters waited hungrily, leaping at any who dropped too low. Archers shot at those trapped above.

A strike force of Haerold’s soldiers battled the glade’s scouts, advancing through the trees, keeping them from rendering aid to those above them.

Instantly, Kyri sent out a call for help, for water, for support.

Dorien and Solon and their people from the south she sent to take down the nets.

Galan spun away to find Martin and bring him against the soldiers coming from the east, to free the Fairy scouts.

She sent out a calming broadcast to those trapped between flame and net as Dorien, Solon and their people dodged arrows from below while trying to bring down the web of ropes, hacking at the thick hemp with their swords.

Diving through and between the trees, drawing her own bow, she fired a shot to force the Hunters’ heads down and then the net was falling down over the Hunters instead, tangling them momentarily.

A temporary respite and a hole, a chance for escape for those who’d been trapped within.

Kyri directed the frantic families to the hole, reassigning Dorien and Solon to escort duty to be sure they reached the south safely, even as one of the defending scouts died.

Other glens winged in water to drench the flames, but they were merely holding back the fire until more help could come. It was all a holding action until more aid could arrive.

Impossibly, fire flamed in another tree even as she felt the whisper of magic.

Wizard.

Magic.

Fury flared and Kyri fought it.

When fighting fire with fire you had best be careful you didn’t burn yourself. She couldn’t fight him that way and wind could be just as dangerous. Rain wasn’t possible either, she sensed, casting about her. There was no rain within miles, the thin overcast was the result of the rising dew, there wasn’t enough moisture in it to help them.

Now she knew how the nets had gotten up there. The wizard had strung them, silently, with magic.

Worse, she couldn’t battle him head to head, as she didn’t know where he was. She couldn’t see him.

The soldiers advanced, pushing toward the edges of the glade, driving the defenders back. Behind the soldiers were men with axes. Woodsmen and lumberjacks. Some already fanned out hacking at the base of the trees in pairs.

Martin’s people struck Haerold’s brigade on the flank.

The battle had only just begun.

Another contingent of Fairy arrived. She sent them to harass the Hunters, staying high.

The Hunters cut their way out of the nets and were now loping toward the forward edge of the fight, building speed.

Morgan pushed his people hard, but no more than they pushed themselves. Almost all of them owed a debt of gratitude to Kyri, Galan or Dorien for their assistance in some way or another – healing, a call for help or backup, even escape. Every hour that went past was a torment, all of them fearing they wouldn’t arrive in time. As they closed, the smoke rising on the horizon gave them fresh inspiration, fresh impetus, driving them harder.

Cresting the rise, racing over it, the field of battle became clear.

It was a nightmarish scene.

To their right flames rose from among the tops of the trees, the thick smoke and fire turning the scene below into a badly lit nightmare of Haerold’s dark-clad and lightly armored men doing battle with Martin’s rebels on horseback and the Fairy darting in from the air. Both were rendered less effective by the armor Haerold’s men wore, as they were forced to seek the weak spots in it. The Fairy had to take more time for their shots as they aimed for the eyeholes in helmets, or the gap between helmet and chest piece, rendering them more vulnerable to Haerold’s archers as well. The rebels, too, had to choose, throat, ribs, or wrist.