Wilde's Army (25 page)

In its purest form, filling every inch of space as far as I can see is white.

Soft.

Edgeless.

White.

Darkness does not exist on this cloud. I imagine it would be impossible for Dughbal to live here, to breathe here even.

My skin is flawless and radiates with a perfect light pink hue. I inspect the bites. They’re gone. I take a deep breath. The pain is also gone.

Standing, I find I’m no longer paralyzed. No longer in the middle of a war. No longer anywhere. This is different from when the shifter took control of me. I had no feeling. No body to connect to. No life. Wherever I am, I’m alive, able to move, to breathe and to walk.

Taking a step forward with my right foot, everything above and to the sides of me fades to black. My name rings shrill in my ears.

“Katriona,” another shout from a voice so familiar, so warm it makes my insides burn to be near it.

“Where are you?” I call out.

“Her heart is not beating.
Keagan
, come here. We need you now.”

The voices are frantic, high-pitched and demanding, but there is no one here.

I am alone.

“Hello?” I call.

Nothing.

Trees ignited with blue flames pop up on all sides of me. Smells of burned hair, dry and sharp, fill my nostrils. I cover my nose with my hand, try to filter the scent with my skin.

An invisible force strikes my chest, knocking me off balance and expelling the air from my lungs. Gasping, I turn to my side and cough up pockets of smoke. The strange force continues crashing into me. I’m pinned on my back.

Now everything is dark.

Tears run from the sides of my closed eyes. My arm stings. Glancing at it, I see the bite marks reappear. Blood covers my arm, and my pink hue has turned pasty white. I look up; three figures hover over me. They appear far away, but the blurs of peach, red, brown and green grow clearer with each blink of my eyes.

“I believe she has returned,” Keagan says.

“Kate, can you hear me?” Arland whispers next to my ear.

“Arland?” My mouth is dry, filled with a bitter taste.

“She is alive.” His voice shakes, but I hear his relief hanging in the word
alive
.

“Keep the line strong. Do not let the daemons get any closer. Have the serpents been killed yet?” Arland shouts, further away from my ear.

“Sir, we cannot continue to fight them off with what little weapons we have.” Cadman’s urgency drills into me. “We are out of arrows. The magic which protected us has faded. Without Ogilvie or—”

“Look out,” Arland yells.

Humid air gushes past us. The ground shakes.

War. I’m at war with Darkness. I must lead these people, must fight. Transferring my weight to my elbows, I prop up my back and focus on what I have to do, what I love, and thank the gods I’m still alive.

“What are you doing?” Mom puts her hand between my shoulder blades and lifts my right arm. My weight is too much for one elbow to bear, and she lowers me to the ground.

“You are filled with poison. You were able to call magic before your h-heart stopped, but you were gone, Kate. Let us take care of this. One of the serpents has fallen. It will all be over soon.”

She pushes hair from my face, allowing me to see the concern in her eyes. Her look takes me back to when I was a child and I’d broken my arm; Mom said it was her fault I fell off the horse, and she’d cried more than I did when the doctor set the bone.

“Mom, I cannot let them fight without magic. I’m alive. I feel fine.” I reach out my hand. “Will you help me up?”

She sighs then pulls me to my feet.

When I glance around and see the predicament we’re in, my heart almost stops for a second time.

Everyone has moved to form a circle around me. We’re surrounded by daemons. The forest blazes; orange flames lick the trees and burn the plant debris on the ground. Smoke hovers above our heads. Children and adults lie motionless, sprinkled along the landscape like uncovered graves on a hillside.

I look away. Guilt for their lives is on me. I could have protected them, could have saved them. Yet I allowed myself to be killed. Allowed myself to be surrounded. By what? Daemons.
Dogs
?

The gods did not gift me with their powers for me to waste them in such foolish fights. The gods gave me their powers to kill their brother. And I plan to do just that. I’m going to start with every creature here.

Shaking, I ignore the protest of my muscles, ignore the eyes of my mother, ignore the carnage surrounding me and focus on what matters: life. Anna drags my sword. With a weapon too large for her, she attempts to fight a small coscartha. She will not have to fight anymore.

I break through the soldiers and children fighting to protect me, march to Anna, then grab my sword from her small hands. I stand in front of her then stab through the heart of the daemon.

Sprites spring to life, returning from where they hid, and create a protective barrier around every remaining soldier and child’s body. Looking up, I watch as they swarm around my head and stare at their cherub smiles as they fly by.

“Kill the serpent, find the boy, power the Draíochtans, and leave the rest of the daemons to us.”

With a crack, the sprites return to their earthly forms then fly away from me, back toward the serpent. He lunges forward, snapping his jaws in an attempt to kill Arland and Cadman. They jump to the side, avoiding a bite sure to kill. The beast lowers his neck then slithers closer to Arland.

Spinning in a halo over the beast’s head, the magic separates and drives into him, pinning him to the ground.

Arland turns and looks at me. The corner of his mouth twists up, and flames ignite his body.

“Kill him, Arland. Do it now,” I shout.

He and Cadman stand on either side of the serpent, raise their swords like axes, then come straight down over its neck. Its head rolls toward the river, then lies motionless while its shiny black body flails around on the ground.

Rising from the dead daemon, the sprites band together then dart into the trees.

Please find Marcus . . . alive
.

If Arland wasn’t a Leader, if he didn’t need to show his strength or prove his ability to control his emotions, I’m sure he’d run to me right now. He kills every creature standing in his way, crossing the distance between us. Coscarthas fall with quick, effortless stabs of his sword. Daggers of fire shoot from his chest, killing hounds mid-air. He knocks tairbs off their hooves; Cadman follows behind and slits their throats. Shifters receive arrows to their pulsing cores from Arland’s best man.

Arland is terrifying yet magnificent. His muscles tense. Veins bulge with blood, fueled by what can only be adrenaline. Dirt covers his exposed skin. Beads of sweat run down his cheeks. His sword bears proof of his kills, but his face bares his desire to be near me. Not once has he looked away. Not once have his eyes stopped smiling.

Magic aids his march across the forest.

Nerves weaken me.

Lowering his sword, he leaves no space between us, takes my face in his hand, holds me like he shouldn’t while others are around. “You died.”

I experience a sudden need to look away from his emerald eyes. The war around us has not stopped. Soldiers fight with everything in them; children do their best not to be killed. “Not exactly. I’m here, aren’t I?”

He turns my face, forces me to meet his eyes. “That is not the point. You died, Kate. I have failed you. Repeatedly.” Leaning down, he places his lips on mine, but there is reservation in this meeting. Uncertainty. Restraint he’s never shown before.

“I love you,” I say.

“As I love you.” Arland backs away then raises his sword in a defensive position. “Are you able to fight?”

I nod.

“Good. The soldiers killed most of them while you were
gone
, but as you can tell”—he points at the bodies—”most of us have also been killed.”

Cringing, I take count of how many are still here and alive. Me, Arland, Brit, Flanna, Mom, Cadman, Tristan, Perth, Anna, Keagan, Keely, Saidear, Dunn, Gavin, Kent, Muriel and Shay: seventeen of us remain. I’m going to be sick.

“We should hold hands and fight the daemons in a line. Share the magic like before … like on the cliff. We didn’t need weapons then, and we don’t need them now.” I reach out for Anna then clasp my hand around hers.

“Anna, don’t let go of me. Do you understand?”
I will not allow another child to die
.

The instant every man, woman, and child links together, fire explodes from us. Thoughts of survival, of salvation, and of winning fill everyone’s heads and hearts. Daemons approach us on all sides, but I don’t waste time looking at them. I don’t recite spells as many of the others do; I meet the eyes of the creatures longing to kill us and command fire into them.

Magic hits the ground around our feet, knocking leaves, dirt and branches up in a cloud, but instead of rising into the atmosphere like smoke from an atom bomb, the debris launches itself away from us then smacks into the daemons. Wails rise from wounded monsters lying on the forest floor. Following behind the debris, flames consume any life left in our fallen enemies and grow from the feet up on the daemons left standing.

Our power amplifies. Our enemies dwindle. Serpents lie dead to our left, daemons lie dead … everywhere. The forest floor is barren, revealing only black dirt.

This battle is almost over.

Arland spares a glance at me then leans next my ear. “They are gone, Kate. You can release the magic.”

I shake my head. “No, Marcus isn’t here yet.”

He tightens his hand around mine. “Do you—?”

“Yes, I do. He will be okay.”

Anna looks up at me; she heard what I said. I still hear her thoughts. She’s begging the gods for me to be right about her brother. Every part of her cries out for him to be alive.

The power has not stopped swirling around us or burning daemon bodies on the ground. The Light has not given up. I sense the sprites’ searching, sense their desperate need to find the boy and bring him to safety, and I sense their excitement when they do.

I look over my left shoulder. White light glows in the forest and grows nearer to us. “He’s coming.”

Anna fills with joy, sadness, anger, emotions I can’t quite name. We watch magic carry the boy in a protective white bubble, like the yolk of an egg. He’s asleep or … .

Oh no. Please, Griandor, please let him be alive.

The beings lay Marcus on the ground in front of Anna. Magic spreads out under him like a sheet then seeps back into the earth. Everyone gathers round him, still holding hands, still holding their breath, still hoping.

Anna falls to her knees beside him, throws her arms over him, and cries. “Marcus, please be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive.”

His face is pasty white. His arms are covered in blood. His clothes are tattered rags. The hair on his head looks black in comparison to the paleness of his face.

“
Heal him
… .”

His mouth twitches. He turns his head toward Anna. “Anna?”

She pulls away from him. “Marcus!”

Opening his eyes takes time. Time we don’t have. He looks up at me, and his brows furrow, creating wrinkles he’s way too young to wear. “You saved me?”

I don’t know how to respond. My mouth refuses to move. My feet won’t even move.

Arland kneels beside Anna and Marcus then runs a hand across the boy’s forehead. “She did, Marcus. Katriona has saved us all”—Arland flashes a smile in my direction, then returns his attention to Marcus—”but we need to continue our journey. You have been through a terrible ordeal; we all have been. However, if we do not leave now, more daemons will likely show up to finish us off. Can you walk?”

“I … . Yes.”

Anna pulls her brother to his feet.

He moans but covers his mouth and stares at the ground.

Arland watches them, I’m sure admiring the same courage I am, then puts his arm around Marcus. “Do not be ashamed to show pain.”

“But you have never shown pain. You broke your nose in a battle with a tairb and showed nothing. I want to be like that. Like you.” Marcus tips his head in my direction. “I want to be like both of you.”

“You already are,” I say, taking up his other side. “Now, you and Anna should wait here while we bury—”

“We must leave at once, Katriona.” Arland does not stop moving forward. “We have thirty miles to travel yet. We are weak, wounded, tired and hungry. There is no time to bury the fallen. We must make peace along our journey.”

Anna and Marcus watch us with what can only be expectant eyes. Wide and wet, red and swollen. For their sakes, I wish we could have a funeral, but at the same time, staying here could risk their lives again.

All eighteen remaining adults and children take hands then trudge forward through the scorched underbrush; the horses follow behind. Thirty miles is a long way, but we have to make it, and no matter what happens when we get there, I don’t believe I’ll ever forget what happened here.

My feet ache as if I’ve been walking around a mall all day in a pair of high heels. I did that once. Some part-time job placed me outside a sporting goods store, asking people if they’d like to participate in a survey. Two days were all it took for me to realize retail was not for me. And right now, I realize these leather boots aren’t for me either. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of real hiking shoes. If there were a store here, I’d consider robbing it so I could outfit everyone with a pair.

I should be thankful though; the path is quiet. We have not encountered any other daemons, and everyone in our small group has held up without complaint.

Save for Perth.

About an hour ago, he broke hands with Brit then wandered close to the river, yelled over his shoulder something about a rabbit, then ran back empty handed. Arland and I exchanged glances and shook our heads.

Perth is starving.
Everyone
is starving.

I’d give anything to be back in Virginia, anything to eat a big juicy hamburger from a greasy fast food joint. My mouth waters at the mere thought of beef and cheese and ketchup and—