The Rival (56 page)

She brought a shaking hand to her face.  Her lips and cheeks were already chapped.  The Islanders in the village below had warned her that the mountains called the Eyes of Roca were cruel.  She hadn't realized how cruel. 

If the Visions had gone on much longer, she might have died.

The Eyes of Roca had no trees and rose higher, the locals said, than the Snow Mountains to the south.  Like the Snow Mountains, the Eyes of Roca never lost their snow-cap, but unlike the southern range, this one was considered unfriendly.  Its name, after the Islander's most holy man (almost a god, as she understood it), was not a name of comfort, as it would have been in some countries, but a warning. 
The Eyes of Roca are watching,
the locals said, and they seemed more concerned with their mythic mountain range than with the Fey in their midst.

For that, she was grateful.  She doubted the Black King would make his way here quickly, and by the time he did, she hoped to be gone.  She had Seen the cave which had hidden her since she left the Islander palace.  But she hadn't Seen herself staggering out of it, in the middle of a Vision series.

Her feet were cold.  She made herself stand, made herself walk back through the snow to her cave.  Her fire was still burning near the cave's mouth.  She hadn't been gone long.  She pulled off her wet clothing and set it near the fire, then wrapped herself in blankets she had brought with her.  She put snow in her pot, then hung it on the cooking wire over the fire.  She would make herself some root tea, warm up, and contemplate what she had just Seen.

Even though she didn't want to.

At least fifty Visions had gone through her in that short span.  She had never experienced a series like that before. Something major happened, something so large that it disrupted the sure future and made fifty alternatives.

For the first time since she escaped Shadowlands, she wished she wasn't alone.  She wished she had someone to compare Visions with.

Because the final Vision had terrified her.

She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on them.  The shivering continued, even though she was warmer than she had been just a moment before.  Perhaps it wasn't cold that made her shiver.  Perhaps it was fear.

The images wouldn't leave her.  All the Visions were clear, but the clearest was stained with blood.  Blood upon blood upon blood.  Fey blood.  All over the world.   The Fey were no longer reasonable creatures of war; they had become raving lunatics that ripped apart anything  —  anyone  —  who got in their path.

The Black Blood had turned on itself, and had driven the Fey mad.

Her greatest fear.

And one of the fifty Visions.  One path that this point, this change, might bring them to.  She hoped Rugad had Seen it.  She hoped Gift had Seen it. 

Because if they hadn't, the Fey were doomed.

She wasn't certain what her own action should be.  She had left Shadowlands, contrary to her own training, because she had seen her death at the hands of Rugad's Foot Soldiers.  She refused to die there.  She knew she had changed the Vision when, after she had left the Islander palace, she had collapsed into another Vision, one of this mountain cave, and evidence of a long life lived here.

Her life.

Rugad was skating very close to the edge of ruining his people.  If she appeared before him, she would certainly die. Nicholas, sweet man that he was, wasn't Fey, and didn't have full comprehension of all that could occur.  And young Gift, while he was a natural leader, had never experienced war.  The only hope was Arianna, and she was as impetuous and headstrong as her grandfather, Rugar, who brought the Fey to this impasse.

She had already warned Nicholas's children what this fighting would do.  She had warned Nicholas.  And Rugad had been trained to avoid such things from birth. 

Unless she got a clearer Vision, she would remain in her cave, on the side of this mountain, hidden from intrigue, and safe from the rest of the world.

From Rugad.

And maybe, even, from death.

SIXTY-SIX

Nicholas had his arm around Arianna.  He wasn't watching her, though.  He was looking at his son.

Sebastian huddled near the wall, arms wrapped around himself.  He had said nothing since Arianna had explained her Visions.  For the first time in his life, he looked lost in thought.

Nicholas let him be.  Nicholas was shaky enough from Arianna's experience, not because of what she said as much as how she had looked.  He had thought, for a moment, that she had been poisoned, that it had somehow taken longer than usual to work.  He had held her, terrified that she was going to die like her mother had, hideously and quickly.  But she hadn't.  When Arianna had opened her eyes, he had felt redeemed.

She stood beside him now, watching the battle below.  Her face held longing to be part of it, longing he understood.  Part of him wanted to be below as well, but he knew better now.  He knew that he didn't dare go, that she didn't dare go, that the fighting had to happen without them.

He directed it from above.  Now he could do nothing.

Still, it looked as if he had done enough. Three-quarters of the birds had been startled into flight.  The remaining flew in the faces of the attacking guards, but somehow Monte had prepared them.  They stabbed at the birds, chopped at the birds, ripped out feathers and wings.  Blood and feathers went everywhere.  Birds screeched and so did Islanders.  But he heard no real Fey victory cry.  Nothing to make it sound as if the Fey were doing well.

From every window at the top of this tower, he saw Fey being slaughtered.  At a high cost  —  for every two Fey, he lost one of his own  —  but he was still winning in hand-to-hand combat.

He didn't know how long it would last.

But while it did, it was glorious.

" … Pa … "

Nicholas turned. Sebastian was pointing at the north window.  Two dozen birds were hovering outside the glass, all of them very tiny.  Their wings fluttered so fast that Nicholas couldn't even see them move.  It almost seemed as if they were standing in mid-air.

The Fey on their backs were even smaller.  He couldn't make out their features from this distance. 

Arianna turned.  She was frowning.  Nicholas took a step forward and as he did, the birds tapped the glass with their beaks, not once, but dozens of times.  The sound was terrifying and authoritative.  The Fey on the birds' backs were waving their arms, obviously giving instructions.  This was a planned attack.

The window cracked.  Nicholas ran toward it.  If he put some wood in front of it, he might be able to prevent their entry.  He was halfway across the room when the glass shattered.

Something brown streaked past him.  The cries from the battle below intensified, the screams, the shouts, the clang of sword against beak.  The birds flew in, hovering together as one unit.  Sebastian cried out hoarsely  —

 —  and a small cat leapt into the air, batting the birds with its paws, and snapping its jaws.  The birds scattered, but the Fey were shouting at them.  Even though they were shouting in Fey, Nicholas recognized the word.

Attack.

"No!" he shouted in the same language.  "That's my daughter!  That's the Black King's great-granddaughter.  She has Black Blood!"

The words came out slower than he wanted, but the effect was the same.  The birds backed off.  Arianna jumped higher, catching one in her mouth, closing her jaws, shaking, and tossing the dead creature onto the ground.  At the same time, she hit two more with her paws and stunned them.

The birds were backing up.  Nicholas grabbed a poker from the fireplace and came to his daughter's aid, hitting the birds as if they were clods of dirt.  They fell back, stunned.

Sebastian came over as well, slowly.  He deliberately picked up the fallen birds and tossed them from the broken window.

Some of the birds went above Nicholas's head.  Arianna kept jumping and snarling, but the birds were out of her reach.  Nicholas kept swinging the poker, forcing the birds back.  One went for Sebastian's eye, and Nicholas cried out again. 

"He has Black Blood!"

And the bird backed off.

Then, as quickly as they had arrived, they left, their tiny force one-quarter its original size.  Two more birds lay dead on the floor, and Arianna spat one out with what looked like, to Nicholas, reluctance.  Then she ran back to her robe, crawled under it, and Shifted.

Nicholas clapped Sebastian on the back, and complimented him on his resourcefulness.  When he turned, Arianna was adjusting her clothing.  A tiny feather still hung from the corner of her mouth.

"We can't stay here any longer," he said.

"They can't kill us," Arianna said.

"I may not have time to explain next time," he said.

She nodded.  "The other tower?"

"That's what I was thinking.  Then we'll at least be able to watch and it might take them a while to realize where we're at."

Sebastian was looking out the window.  His large hands were shaking. 

Nicholas slipped his arm around the boy's shoulders.  "You didn't kill them," he said, knowing that was what bothered the boy.  Sebastian was the gentlest of all of them.  He had been able to cup Arianna in his hands when she was a kitten without hurting her at all.  He hated death, even of tiny things, like bugs.

So different from his sister.

" … I … hope … not," Sebastian said.  His voice shook. 

Nicholas squeezed harder.  Then he turned.  "You ready, Ari?"

She nodded.  She handed Nicholas his poker.  It still had feathers on it.  Unlike Sebastian, Nicholas wasn't upset about the deaths.  They were attacking him and his children.  They didn't deserve to live.

The sounds of the battle had grown progressively louder.  Clanging, screaming, the screeching  —  the large birds seemed to be screeching as they attacked  —  seemed to move even closer to the palace.  If the other birds returned, Nicholas wasn't certain how long his force could hold them off.

He needed a secondary plan.  He would discuss that with Arianna when they reached the second tower.  They would also discuss her Visions.

She was beside him.  "We'll have to hurry," she said.

"I know."  He glanced at Sebastian.  The boy's face was set, as if he would use all of his concentration to get across the palace.

Then Nicholas pulled open the door  —  and immediately tried to close it.  A dozen naked Fey, maybe more, flooded inside.  They were carrying ancient swords, nicked by use and time.  Nicholas recognized the swords.  They had come from the Great Hall.  These were Bird Riders in their Fey form.

They grabbed him before he could even raise the poker and held him fast.  Their hands dug into his arms like talons.  They grabbed Arianna and Sebastian as well.

"Don't!" Nicholas said in Fey.  "They have Black Blood."

"We know," said the raven-haired female in front of him.  Her hair appeared long, but it was feathered, and it hung down her back like plumage.  "You'll come with us now."

"No!" Arianna said.  She ripped her arm from their grasp.  "You can't do anything to us."

"That's right," the woman said.  She was holding Nicholas's great-grandfather's sword from the Peasant Uprising.  She brought its tip to his throat, then smiled at Arianna and Sebastian.  "We can't do anything to you.  But we can kill your father."

Arianna shoved the sword with her bare hand.  It slid away from his throat.  Nicholas backed up, only to be held by more Fey. 

"Do that again," the woman said, "and your father dies."

"I'll get in your way," Arianna said.

"You can't be everywhere." 

Nicholas felt sharp tips all along his back.  He said nothing.  The woman wasn't even looking at him.  She was looking at his daughter.

" … Ari … " Sebastian said, and pointed to Nicholas.  Nicholas glanced down.  Most of the swords were pointed at his body.

Arianna's eyes narrowed.  She looked more like Jewel than she ever had.  An angry Jewel.  "Hurt him, and I'll kill you."

"I won't hurt him if you do what I say," the woman said.

"Give me your word," Arianna said.

"A Fey generally breaks her word," Nicholas said in Islander.  "Your mother told me that, and I've seen it many times."

"He's right," the woman said in Fey.  "But I'll give it to you if you want."

Arianna glanced at Nicholas. She wasn't prepared for this kind of situation.  Somehow he had failed in his training.  Not even Solanda had trained her for the difficulties of facing the Fey.

She swallowed.  Nicholas's heart was pounding.  His beautiful, impulsive daughter could save herself from this, and maybe Sebastian if she was lucky.  But she couldn't save all three of them.  And even if she did escape, she would have nowhere to go.

"All right," Arianna said. "What do you want?"

The woman smiled.  She had that Fey beauty combined with a bird-like flatness in her eyes.  The effect was that of a tamed wildness, a very dangerous wildness.  "I want your cooperation," she said.  "At least, until the Black King arrives."

SIXTY-SEVEN

"Wait," Flurry said.  He swooped down lower than he had been.  They hadn't gone far from their resting place. The sun was still high, and he had good cover.  Sparks were difficult to see in the daylight.

"I don't see anything," Cinder said.

"That's because we're not low enough."  Flurry kept going lower, lower than he usually flew.  Something had caught his eye.  Something he had flown over a moment before. 

There it was, on the side of the road.  A Fey woman crouched beside the road, her hand resting on a man's back.  Flurry hadn't seen the man at first.  His clothing blended with the road, his skin and hair blending as well.

He was pulling himself up, slowly, and the woman looked terrified.

"I still don't see anything," Cinder said.

"Then you're not looking," Flurry said.  He pointed.  She hovered beside him, squinting downward.  She inched lower, her wings moving rapidly to keep herself in one place.