Street Fair (22 page)

"With the Queen along at the height of Summer?" Ashling called back, "not very long. You'll see."

Megan turned her attention to the Queen, watching for a while, but not seeing anything of note until they approached a wide stream. Despite the lack of a bridge over the moving water, the armies kept charging on. Orlaith gestured forward, and the sunlight on the water grew brighter. The Queen lifted her hand, and the glimmering light against the water started to rise, first forming a bridge of sunlight across the stream. Not content, the Queen gestured higher, and the bridge arched higher, and widened, until a bridge of light started at water's edge, and continued over the horizon.

Neither army slowed, racing onto the bridge at full speed. It held up under all of them, with the Queen chanting and holding a hand high as the armies marched north. Megan tried to look over the edge of the bridge, peering off the carpet, before she felt Ashling tugging on her shirt. "Don't do that."

"Why not? This is incredible!"

"Same reason you close your eyes going through the gates. Some of the places we're traveling through aren't places."

"Huh?"

"Falias is a
really
long way away, but she's going to get two entire armies there between sun up and sun down. Seven-league striders have nothing on the Queen in a hurry."

"Whoa."

"Yep. Just enjoy the ride."

Megan contented herself with watching the unicorns instead, managing to somehow never get bored with that, no matter how many other visual spectacles the marching armies presented. In watching the four of them, and the majestic chariot they pulled, she lost all track of time.

As such, she was staring right at Orlaith's chariot when the Queen faltered for a moment. The bridge started to glow less brightly as the Queen halted her chants and her hand drooped. Starting near the horizon, the bridge began to...unravel, the strands of light fraying and undoing themselves, pulling apart closer and closer sections of the bridge. Orlaith didn't seem to notice, staring straight ahead, her sunrise eyes open wide.

Inwar placed a hand on her shoulder, calling out the words she had been shouting. A moment later, Orlaith joined back in, and the bridge was restored. The trip lasted only a short time longer, before her chariot, Riocard's wolves, and then the rest of the vanguard left the bridge.

From above, pulling her gaze away from the fae armies, Megan finally looked ahead, as Lani tugged on her arm and gestured forward. Looming in the distance at the edge of the rocky plain was a whole city of forlorn-looking gray stone. Its walls towered, and its towers were fortified. In front of the city, and extending into the city gates and the open spaces of the city stood an army even larger than that the fae had gathered. Most appeared to be skeletons bearing spears, bows, and swords. Others appeared to be animate suits of armor. Along the walls stood more skeletal archers, and honor guards for bony figures in robes similar to the sorcerers among the fae.

Megan pointed down towards Orlaith, still trying to figure out what the problem was, after the show of power she'd seen. They had been expecting the undead, after all.

Megan looked to the woman—or, well, female entity, at least—who had fairly recently tried to bloodlessly conquer all of An Teach Deiridh just to keep its processes more organized. Orlaith of the Seelie Court was, in broad principle, literally the paragon of control. Now, shielded from the view of most by her small honor guard, she was shaking.

Megan hummed lightly, a small enchantment she'd learned to help gentle winds carry sound to her more effectively. Over the sound, she heard the words: "General, we can't. We can't do it. I thought we would be able to ... but he was ... he's..."

Inwar kept his hand on her shoulder, looking where the Queen did. "You don't have to. Nothing can make you do anything. We deal with one battle at a time."

Megan followed their gaze, past the armies, past the walls, to see a single flag waving from the top of a spire, bearing an image she'd seen before, on the golems at Findias. On a field of black, there was a single dark red eye.

Chapter 32: Ready and Aimed

After catching the exchange between the Queen and Inwar, Megan pointed towards her father and his command staff. Ashling, or perhaps the Count, steered the carpet towards them. Her father was issuing commands to his lieutenants, but Cassia immediately moved to meet them as the carpet lowered to near ground level.

"You ready to go to war?"

"I... I don't know. Where are you going to be?" Megan said, shouting to be heard.

"Charging, where else?"

Megan had about a dozen questions spring to her head at once, picking one out. "My dad's wolves there, are they supposed to be part of the Wild Hunt, or where did they come from?"

“Nope,” Cassia said. “Perfectly normal Giant Wolves.”

"Right, because that's a thing that's normal. So where are they, anyway?"

"Where are who? You managed to get two armies marching on short notice."

“Where are the crazy horned guy and his giant black-dog army? We got a name. We got middle name, even.”

“They tried, but O'Neill is still defending himself against the Hunt. Somehow. Wannabe-sorcerer-kings sometimes aren't messing around.”

"That doesn't sound good," Lani commented.

Cassia gestured to the opposing army. "I don't know what you're talking about. This looks like a great day!"

Riocard shouted in Gaelic, and Cassia pointed towards him. "That's my cue, but I think he wants to talk to you," she called, maneuvering the chariot back into the front ranks.

Riocard turned his attention to Megan, a fierce expression of wild joy on his face. "Are you ready, oh daughter of mine?"

Megan glanced at the back ranks with many of the archers and sorcerers. "Do you want us out of the way until you figure out why we're supposed to be here?"

Riocard laughed, "Why would I do that? You got to see our concert," he made a sweeping gesture with one hand, gesturing out into the field. "This is your concert hall. This is your audience. Sing for me." He paused, glancing over the group. "Sir Justin, I trust you to keep an eye on her, of course. And it wouldn't do for you to catch a random arrow, so..." he whistled, and a pair of three-foot tall, ruddy-skinned creatures stepped forward. Each began to inhale deeper and deeper, sucking in air. As they did, they grew larger, until the tiny creatures were some fifteen feet tall. They moved to flank the group.

"Our very own arrow-catchers!" Ashling clapped, before growing more sedate, waving to the two now-giants.

Riocard gestured once more, and a wind swirled around Megan. "That should carry your voice to the whole field, but give it a moment."

Riocard turned, moving to the forefront, and as if on cue, the musicians stopped. The shouting and banging and stomping quieted, and a hush fell over the field. All around in the rear ranks, archers readied their bows, but held. Megan could see the rows of skeletal archers on the tops of the walls doing the same.

Though some way off, an armored figure atop the walls still commanded immediate attention—not only because of the armor, but also the glowing green eyes, like the wights they'd fought before. The figure raised his sword and gestured, and a tremendous scraping noise followed from behind the walls, before a giant, bony claw curled around the top of the wall in an open area, then another. A draconic skull followed, peering over the wall, looking out on the battlefield.

The armored wight pulled himself onto the dragon's back from there, then gestured forward. Climbing at the command, the rest of the dragon's skeleton came to perch atop the city wall. The figure raised his off hand and closed his gauntlet into a fist, and, as one, the skeletal warriors readied their weapons. Then everything was still again, as each assembled force waited for the other to make the first move.

Orlaith provided that first move, lifting a hand. As she did, a blast of flame hurtled from the skies, disintegrating several of the skeletal warriors.

A moment later, hundreds of arrows were loosed, and then both sides charged. Megan closed her eyes and shied away from the flights of arrows. She heard the sound of dozens of them landing amidst the ranks of the fae, hitting rock, hitting wood, hitting the earth—but none hit her.

She finally dared to open her eyes, first seeing Justin standing before her, a white shield held high, and flaming sword at the ready. Both of the giant fae who had moved to flank her showed signs of having arrows stuck into their skin, but none of the wounds appeared terribly deep. Regaining confidence after the moment of panic, she started to sing. True to her father's words, the song rose above the din of battle, carrying out over the field.

One of the siege weapons, a giant trebuchet, was rolled up near her position, and Lani ran to help the crew. Ashling and the Count flew to Riocard's side. Justin held his post, and more fae rushed around her, joining the charge ahead into the opposing army.

The wight on dragonback gestured, and the skeletons moved with perfect coordination. Megan heard shouts warning of flanking maneuvers, and other things she didn't quite understand, and kept on singing the inspirational battle march. As she did, she found more and more of the musicians among the faeries picking up her tune, helping carry it even further.

Even in the mass chaos, Megan couldn't help but notice the leaders of the fae. Orlaith's chariot charged forward, steeds lowering their horns and battering aside the first of the opposition. Inwar had taken over the reins with one hand, holding his sword aloft in the other, shouting commands to the ranks that followed in his wake. A company of mounted knights followed, guarding the flanks of the chariot and helping to clear the way.

Orlaith launched more fire into the undead ranks, to great effect. Despite her efforts, and those of the knights, the chariot's charge stalled after crashing through the front ranks of the enemy. Inwar held there, shouting commands, guiding the troops and holding ground.

Orlaith, however, apparently decided that wasn't enough. She rose from the chariot into the sky on wings of fire. Arrows shot her way turned to ash before they reached her, and from on high, she pelted the field with bursts of pure light, which disintegrated the first opponents they touched and sent a shockwave rippling out from the impact, scattering others.

Riocard, Cassia, and Riocard's fellow wolf-riders outdistanced most of their colleagues. A rank of skeletal pikemen set their weapons to receive the charge. Riocard surged ahead of the rest, laughing like a maniac. He drew his sword and waved a hand. When he reached the line of pikes, he maneuvered the wolf between them, and not a single skeleton moved to adjust. When Riocard's blade struck one, it shattered like ice. The Unseelie King's companions followed suit, destroying the frozen warriors.

Another gesture of Riocard's blade, and a wind, far beyond anything Megan could even think of singing up, blasted rows of skeletons out of the way.

In answer, the wight on dragonback gestured forward, and the skeletal dragon leapt from the walls to cut off the charge. What followed was a chaotic whirl. The wolves leapt and climbed, with the dragon tossing or batting them away as best it could. A swipe of a claw smashed Cassia's chariot, but the satyress rolled away from it just in time. Then she followed the now-loosed cats in trying to scale one foreleg.

The fae advanced, slowly smashing their way through the horde, leaving ruins in their wake. There were screams, blood, and injuries, but there was no question to Megan's eye who was winning the day. The numbers remained intimidating, but the fae seemed to take few lasting injuries from the mundane weapons, and the field was carpeted with the broken bones of the enemy. Megan sang louder still, inspired by the spectacle, and caught up in the rush of her first large-scale battle.

The fae's front ranks were nearing the gates, and Riocard's wolf had finally managed to leap into the midst of the dragon's empty ribcage, and was working on scaling higher to bear his master to where he could threaten the enemy commander directly.

Megan was just reaching the crescendo of her song when a bright red light flared from within the city. A moment later, a wave of crimson light radiated outward, passing through the walls and out over the field. As it did, the scene abruptly changed. Broken bones healed, and defeated skeletal warriors rose again, made anew. The fae who had rushed into their ranks were suddenly surrounded.

As that happened, reinforcements rushed out from the city gates—but these bore jet-black weapons of twisted and notched iron. They caught several of the faerie vanguard unprepared, as they'd turned to assess the threat of the rising warriors. When the new weapons struck, the wounds didn't heal, and dozens of fae—sidhe knights, fierce redcaps, monstrous trolls, and others—fell and didn't rise.

The lead wight's eyes flared brighter as the red wave reached it, and the dragon's eyes took on a greenish glow of their own.

The red light didn't merely invigorate the undead. Where it passed, many of the fae seemed to freeze in place, or turned and fled, under some powerful fear enchantment. Megan had spent the better part of a year growing used to the alien expressions on those various types of faces, whether nightmarish or inhumanly serene. Terror fit strangely on them.