Chapter Nine

Tamriel could not remember the last time he had gone from joy to grief so quickly. He doubted he ever had: he had never felt such an all-consuming panic, a knot tied in his chest that seemed to pull tighter with every passing second. It was hard to stay calm, to stay focused on the situation when every fibre of his being wanted to unravel and scream into the sky.

“Taken by who?” he asked Arlyn, stalking back into his bedroom and pulling on the rest of his clothes as fast as he could. Idris was already scrambling into his own clothes - he had likely heard everything, and his face was grim as he looked up at Tamriel.

“Aine said it was a band of Unseelie, she said she saw them carrying her off toward the mountain border.”

“The Unseelie would not dare -” Tamriel broke off as he buckled his scabbard in place, dread filling his heart.

“What message did you deliver to the King?” he asked. “The letter that the Queen made you carry to the Unseelie lands, what did it say?”

“I do not know, Tamriel, I did not read it.“ Arlyn faltered, worry flashing across her eyes. “You do not think...”

“I do.”

“That bitch,” Arlyn said savagely. “If I thought I stood any chance I would strike her head from her shoulders.”

“Wait,” Idris interjected, finally fully dressed. “Are you saying the Queen orchestrated this?”

“Insurance,” Tamriel said bitterly. “I would assume she could not bear to think for one moment that I could ever be happy.”

“I thought she wouldn’t care if you left with me,” Idris said, his voice small.

“As did I. I thought wrong.”

Tamriel felt foolish - how had he ever thought the Queen would entertain the notion that she wouldn’t get her way? He had let himself get so caught up in the joy of having Idris by his side that he had forgotten what a twisted world he lived in.

“Shit,” Idris muttered under his breath. “So what do we do?”

“We do nothing,” Tamriel said grimly. “I will go after her.”

Arlyn bit her lip. “Papa will -“

“Papa let them take her,” Tamriel interrupted. “Do you think he simply slept through the Unseelie sneaking into his house to steal his daughter? Papa cares more about his standing in Court than he does about any of us. He will not lift a finger to help - I am the only hope Yuli has.”

“And me,” Arlyn said, her face hardening.

Tamriel jammed his knife into his belt and paused, Arlyn’s sudden calm cutting through his fury. She already knew about their father, but he knew well enough that things long suppressed were different once said aloud. He pulled her into a hug, Arlyn resisting only for a second before relaxing into his embrace, her fingers tightening in his jacket as if she worried he would be torn away from her just as Yuli had.

“We will get her back,” Tamriel promised. He relaxed his grip on her and turned to Idris, who was waiting with a frown on his face. “Arlyn will take you to the portal. It is no longer safe for you here.”

Idris shook his head. “I’m coming too. I’m the reason for all this, and you need all the help you can get.”

“You cannot even fight, Idris,” Tamriel said, as gently as he could.

“Tam, Arlyn said it was a band of Unseelie.”

“Who would kill you.”

“And you! Tam, Yuli’s a child, I can’t just walk away from that, not if I think I can be even the smallest bit of help.” Idris’s voice was earnest, but the warmth of his eyes had been replaced by a hardness Tamriel hadn’t expected. Of course. Idris hadn’t walked away from him back when he should have, and Tamriel could tell that there would be no persuading him to turn away now. Each of Idris’s actions was determined by his heart, and though it was beyond foolish Tamriel could not fault him for that. To change that would be to change Idris, to make him a completely different man.

Tamriel sighed. “Very well. Take a sword and try to stay behind Arlyn and myself.” He rummaged through one of his chests and retrieved a spare scabbard, tossing it to Idris.

“Even if I can’t fight you two may need a medic,” Idris said lightly. “I don’t suppose you have any kind of heavy duty first aid kit do you?”

“Tamriel keeps his medical supplies in the kitchen,” Arlyn said. “Beneath the pots you will find a pack.”

Idris nodded, and gave Tamriel one last searching look before he left the room.

“Tell me more of what Aine saw,” Tamriel asked Arlyn, now fully armed. “How many are there? Was Yuli unharmed?”

“As far as she could tell Yuli was fine, though bound and gagged. There were a dozen of them, she said, though half of those were goblins.”

“On foot?”

“On foot.”

That did not sit right with Tamriel: surely if a group of Unseelie had snuck into the Seelie lands they would wish to be as swift as possible? The fact they were on foot suggested that taking Yuli was a taunt, a cruel way of mocking him. That was good, in a way. It meant that she was intended to be used for bargaining rather than to destroy his heart completely: if they could not rescue her, Tamriel was certain he would be offered the chance to trade his life for hers. That was what the Queen wanted, after all.

“I’ve got the pack,” Idris announced, arriving back in Tamriel’s bedroom with a bag slung over his shoulder. He had armed himself as well, Tamriel noticed, with a sword now at his hip. “And I had an idea: I can lie, what if you and I approached them and I said that it was just the two of us? Then Arlyn could sneak around the back of them and attack, or try to get Yuli. You know, flank them.”

“It is not a bad idea,” Tamriel admitted, though he was still loath to have Idris so close to danger. “If there are as many as Aine saw then we will need every advantage we can find.”

“Is there really no one else who will help?” Idris asked. “Surely there’s some decent faeries here?”

Tamriel exchanged a look with Arlyn. “There will be,” he said. “But I cannot spare the time to reach them nor do I want to risk word of our intentions reaching the Queen.”

“I agree,” Arlyn said. “We must leave now. Tamriel, I know you will not like it but our best chance of finding Yuli is to start our hunt at our father’s house, where we know she was last seen.”

“Can we not just intercept them on the path from your dad’s house to the mountains?” Idris asked.

In the human world this would have been a reasonable question, but in the land of Faerie such thinking was impossible. Tamriel shook his head. “There is no one route they could have taken, nor will any path be the same for long. If we head straight for the mountain border then we will likely miss them entirely.”

Idris made an exasperated noise. “So we’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“We’re looking for Yuli in the land of Faerie,” Arlyn corrected, and despite the horrible situation Tamriel felt himself smiling a little.

“Unfortunately Arlyn is right: starting our search at our father’s house is our best chance: there will be tracks, I hope, for there is no way that a dozen Unseelie could pass through our lands without a trace.” Tamriel said.

Idris pulled a face. “I guess worse comes to worst you can just punch him again.”

“Again?” Arlyn laughed harshly. “Tamriel, you shall have to wait your turn: the next person to strike that coward will be me.”

Arlyn had never been as soft-hearted as Tamriel, but the love and loyalty she had for those she cared for was unmatched by any other person he knew. She would rip their father apart with her bare hands if she thought it would bring Yuli back to them faster.

Tamriel tried not to enjoy that idea.

Armed and ready, the three of them mounted their horses and set off for Galan’s house. Tamriel rode Grey as fast as he could, Idris clinging tightly to his back all the way, but even with Grey galloping as fast as he could Tamriel was still uncomfortably aware that every minute that passed was a minute Yuli spent in terror.

It had been years since Tamriel had last visited his father’s house, and in the time since his mother’s death the structure had fallen into disrepair. Whole rooms had collapsed into piles of fabric and furniture, Yuli’s bedroom of red silk only remaining intact by virtue of the new carved wooden poles that Tamriel had made and Arlyn had installed.

Galan’s own bedroom was set into a rock face, and Tamriel’s heart sank as he saw that the thick curtain that normally hung over the entrance to the cave was pulled back, revealing his father lying idly on his bed inside. Any hope of them being able to search for tracks without waking Galan vanished in an instant.

“Where is she?” Arlyn demanded, barely letting Velvet Night come to a stop before jumping from her back and storming into Galan’s bedroom, her axe in her hand. “I cannot believe that for years I thought you might actually care about her, that I let her live with you.”

Galan sat up, seemingly unbothered by Arlyn’s fury. Tamriel dismounted and went to stand by her side, Idris following like his shadow.

“Do you know where she has been taken?” Tamriel asked. His anger at his father had burnt out since the market, leaving behind nothing but cold contempt.

“Yuli will be fine,” Galan sneered, “so long as you do what you promised a week ago and join the Hunt.”

“She’s your daughter,” Idris snapped, surprising Tamriel with his ferocity. “Don’t you care about her at all? She could be hurt, and even if she’s ‘fine’ can you not imagine the emotional damage this is doing to her?”

“How dare you?” Galan spat. “You think spending a few days here gives you the right to lecture me on my family?”

Idris didn’t even flinch, his words cold, “You should be ashamed.”

“The only thing I am ashamed about is giving life to three ungrateful, treacherous brats. I would be better off if none of you ever returned, if Yuli were -“

The butt of Arlyn’s axe hit him between the eyes, enough force behind the blow that Galan’s eyes crossed and he keeled over backwards, his mouth still open. Arlyn spat on him, venom in her eyes, whilst Idris whistled softly.

“Yuli will never return here,” she said. “I will do what I should have done when Mama died and take her to live with me. He does not deserve her love.”

“He does not,” Tamriel agreed. Feeling petty, he crouched down and swiftly tied the laces of Galan’s boots tightly together, then removed his belt to bind his hands behind his back. He wanted his father to cry for help when he awoke, to endure the humiliation of knowing that soon the whole Court would hear of his being bested in his own home.

“If Yuli is in any way harmed, I will be back,” Arlyn said, though there was no way Galan could hear her words given that he was currently drooling onto his bedsheets.

With one last disdainful look at Galan, Tamriel turned his attention to Yuli’s room. The red sheet that functioned as the entrance had been torn away, the blankets on her bed in disarray and the badly knitted duck that he had made for her 5th birthday lying on the floor. A stab of pain lanced through him as flashes of Yuli getting dragged from her bed ran through his mind.

Tamriel shook himself: he had to focus. He bent down and picked up the duck - if the trail ran cold perhaps her scent could be used to help track her down.

He startled as a hand clamped down on his shoulder - Idris , he realised belatedly, trying to silently offer support. He wedged the duck inside his jacket and turned away from Yuli’s room, offering Idris a small smile of appreciation.

“Here!” Arlyn called over to them: she had stayed outside, searching around the house whilst Tamriel had been in Yuli’s room. Tamriel and Idris rushed over to where she was pointing at a spot where the bracken had been flattened.

“That is too large a track to have been formed by Yuli returning from the revel,” she said, and Tamriel nodded in agreement.

“And there are no other tracks?”

Arlyn shook her head.

“Then we must follow it.”

Tamriel mounted Grey again, waiting until Idris was settled before urging him onward, following the trail through the woods at a surprisingly fast pace. The Unseelie who had taken Yuli had not been careful, taking no time to cover their tracks at all: it was easy to follow, allowing them to move swiftly.

The trail led them deeper into the woods before emerging on the other side, ending on the pebbled shore of a river. There was no way of telling which way they had gone, or even if they had crossed the river and continued their journey on the other side, and Tamriel swore under his breath.

“Shall we go separate ways?” Arlyn asked, pulling Velvet Night up to a stop next to Tamriel.

“We may have to,” Tamriel grudgingly admitted. “I will take the upper path and you the -”

“Is that George?” Idris interrupted, nudging Tamriel to get his attention and pointing a little ways down the river, where sure enough a pair of deep green eyes were watching them from just above the surface of the water.

“George!” Tamriel called out. He jumped down from Grey’s back and hurried over to the water’s edge. “George, have you seen Yuli?”

George snorted, bubbles rising to the surface of the river before the kelpie himself rose up. He looked annoyed, more indignant than he had when Tamriel had warned him not to eat Idris.

“I have,” he said archly. “Storming along here with her nasty Unseelie friends, disturbing my sleep and polluting my waters.”

“She has been kidnapped by the Unseelie,” Tamriel told him. “Did you see where they went?”

“Ah.” George looked a little abashed. “I did wonder why she was bound.”

“Where did they go?”

“They went that way.” George nodded up the river. “I have heard whispers that they are camped just twenty minute’s swim from here, where the willows feed into the winding river.”

“It’s a trap, Tam. They want you to find them. Why would they stop so soon after taking her?” Idris said. He and Arlyn had dismounted and had come to join them by the river, and Idris’s face was a mask of concern.

“I know,” Tamriel said, the hollow pit in his stomach slowly filling with rage. “But I do not care. They will not have her.”

“Why do you not come with us, George?” Arlyn asked. “It must be a while since you last tasted Unseelie flesh.”

George’s eyes lit up. “An enticing prospect, especially after I was denied that one over there.” He pointed a hoof over at Idris, who narrowed his eyes at him.

“Could you scout out their camp for us?” Tamriel asked. “It would be useful to get an idea of what we will find.”

“Of course.”

“As quietly as you can,” Tamriel added. “We do not wish to lose the element of surprise.”

“I will be little more than a ripple in the breeze,” George promised, sinking back down into the water.

“Do you really trust him?” Idris asked. His eyes were fixed on the sport where George had disappeared, his hand on the hilt of his sword as though waiting for him to reemerge.

“I trust him in this ,” Tamriel said. “He harbours no ill will towards us that I know of, and as Arlyn said, he will delight in the opportunity to eat something new.”

Idris pulled a face, but he relaxed a minuscule amount.

“And we would be fortunate to have George fight beside us,” Arlyn added. “It will even the odds, perhaps even tip them in our favour.”

Tamriel nodded in agreement. George at least was always upfront about his intentions, unlike others in the Seelie Court: he was as good an ally as any they could hope to find.

It was horribly tense waiting for George’s return, Tamriel’s heart hammering in his chest even though he willed his body to stay still and rest before the upcoming fight. Riding as hard as they could to follow Yuli’s trail had been agony enough, Tamriel painfully aware of each passing minute, but at least they had been doing something: here they were just waiting, unable to do little else but think.

Idris, for once, was completely silent, though he couldn’t stay still like Tamriel could. He paced up and down the riverbank with Arlyn, restless and uncertain. Tamriel still held a hope that at some point Idris would speak up, that he would say he had changed his mind and that he would have no part in the fight.

Idris said nothing.

When George finally returned, Tamriel jumped to his feet before the kelpie had even fully emerged from the water.

“What did you see?” he asked, striding over to the water’s edge.

“I counted just over a dozen of them: your sister is held at the centre of what is quite frankly a poor excuse for a camp, though I would expect nothing less from the Unseelie,” George said.

“And what of the terrain? Is there cover?” Tamriel asked.

“Would it be possible to take Yuli back unnoticed?” Arlyn added.

George shook his head, his seaweed mane spraying water out in a fine arc. “She is held by a dryad, surrounded on all sides by goblins and orcs and boggarts. They are armed, and they are waiting.”

“Then we must try Idris’s plan,” Tamriel said.

“Oh do tell,” George said, turning to Idris with interest. Idris looked even more unsettled than he had before.

“Idris and I will approach from the front,” Tamriel explained, saving Idris from having to talk to George. “Idris can lie: he will say that we come alone, allowing Arlyn and yourself to attack from behind whilst we distract as many of the Unseelie as we can.”

“How fun.” George gave a twisted smile, showing off teeth as sharp as any blade.

“We wait on Tamriel’s signal,” Arlyn said. “You must show restraint, George.”

“Indeed.” George looked offended at the suggestion that he would not wait, and tossed his mane angrily as he turned away from Arlyn and returned to the river. He turned back to face them before he was fully submerged, and added: “Do try not to dally, I am rather hungry.”

He disappeared beneath the water with a soft splash, and Tamriel headed straight for Grey: they had a plan, they had a bearing, and he was not intending to waste any more time.

They followed the river as close as they dared, riding hard and fast first, then slowing to a trot as they rode further upstream. After fifteen minutes Tamriel slowed Grey down to a walk, leading him away from the water’s edge and up into the cover of the woods; they could not surrender the element of surprise, not before Arlyn had left them to infiltrate the other side of the camp.

“There,” Arlyn whispered after a few more minutes, slipping down from Velvet Night’s back and dropping into a crouch. “That is the willow George mentioned.”

Tamriel dismounted from Grey, and beckoned for Idris to join him. They were still a decent way from the river bank, but he did not want to risk riding any further for fear that they would be seen or heard. There were some decent trees and bushes they could use for cover on their approach to the camp, he thought, and one particularly broad oak that would make the perfect place to wait behind.

“We will let you position yourself first,” Tamriel said to Arlyn. “Idris and I will make our way to that tree, and create a distraction once we are certain you are ready.”

Arlyn nodded, touching her fingers first to her lips and then to the hilt of Tamriel’s sword in a gesture of good luck, then repeated it with Idris. She disappeared off through the woods, staying low amongst the grass and barely making a sound as she skirted around the outside of the camp. Idris made to move towards the oak, but Tamriel held him back. He had to say something, and he had to say it now before it was too late.

“Idris, if all else fails then I will have to offer my life for Yuli’s. Both of us must agree to break the bond and I . . . I hope you respect my decision to do this.” Tamriel was silent for a moment. “I feel as though given time I would have truly grown to love you. But I cannot trade the life of my sister for the dream of love.”

Idris nodded silently, his lips pressed tightly together as his eyes began to sparkle with unshed tears.

“I know,” he said after a moment. “I’d do the same if it were me.” He bit his lip, as though forming more words, but instead surged forward and kissed Tamriel lightly on the mouth.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, his voice full of resigned determination.

“Yes, let’s.” Tamriel agreed. He had known Idris would understand, but in a way that made it worse. If Idris had protested, if he had selfishly argued for Tamriel to leave Yuli behind then he would not have been the man he was beginning to love. As it was, Tamriel was facing being parted from the one man who he felt truly understood him.

With a gesture to Idris to follow him, Tamriel set his thoughts firmly on the matter at hand and started to make his way forward at a painfully slow pace towards the great oak he had marked out for cover, crouching in the long grass. As he neared the noises of the camp grew louder, low chatter and the occasional snicker rising up over the sound of the river. Once Idris had joined him behind the tree he cautiously peered around the side of it, scanning the camp as best he could from the awkward vantage point.

Just as George had said, Yuli was being held firmly by a dryad, its arms a tight knot of vines crossing her body. The dryad’s back was to a large willow, its bark-covered skin almost blending in with the tree behind it. He was relieved to see that Yuli was awake, and seemed unharmed, though even at a distance he could see that she had been crying. She was held so securely that her feet dangled off the ground, her whole body slumped against her restraints.

Surrounding her were four clusters of Unseelie, each alert and facing outwards from the willow, but what stood out most was the presence of Venali: the leader of the Wild Hunt was standing off to the side, his arms crossed and his face as impassive as ever. It only confirmed what Tamriel had thought: Yuli had been nothing but bait, a body to bargain with to ensure he bent to the Queen’s wishes and joined the Hunt. He was only surprised that the Queen herself was not there to watch, but he supposed she would have easily grown bored sitting at the camp, waiting for him to show up.

A rage began to burn deep within him, the simmering anger he had felt ever since Yuli had been taken catching light and beginning to burn in earnest. This truly was nothing more than a game to the Queen, all of them no more than pawns in her plans to place everyone exactly where she wanted them. There was no real difference in the end result between him joining the Hunt or leaving for the human realm to her, no difference besides the fact that one was what he wanted, and one was the path that she had decided on. She couldn’t bear to lose an inch of ground, and here they all were, prepared to fight, and she wasn’t even there.

A flicker of darkness on the far side of the camp caught his eye: it was Arlyn, slipping forward as close as she dared as she waited for his signal. To his left he could make out a slight disturbance in the river, a cluster of unnatural bubbles that were only noticeable if they were being sought out. It was time.

“It is not too late to stay back,” Tamriel said to Idris.

“Not a chance,” Idris said, giving Tamriel a quick smile before setting his face into a look of grim determination. Tamriel reached out and gave Idris’s hand a squeeze, trying not to think that it might be the last time he got to touch the other man.

Taking a breath, he stood up and emerged from behind the tree, hands empty and up in the air.

“I am here for my sister,” he called as he walked over to the camp, Idris trailing him. The Unseelie startled, a few breaking from their groups to turn and make a wall before Tamriel. Good, he thought. With any luck he could distract a few more to make things easier for Arlyn and George.

“And you may have her,” a goblin towards the front of the pack gave a wicked grin, her teeth as jagged as the jawbone sword in her hand. A red cap, Tamriel realised belatedly, a particularly vicious sort of goblin who liked to dip their hats in the blood of their prey. “I think you know what to do to get her back,” she cackled.

“I thought you were a neutral party,” Tamriel called over to Venali. “And yet here you are assisting in the kidnapping of a child.”

“I was summoned without reason mere minutes ago,” Venali replied, his voice ringing out clear and loud. There was a hint of disgust in his voice, Tamriel thought, though Venali was clearly not so unhappy with the situation that he was willing to do anything about it.

Most of the Unseelie had broken from their posts by then, coming to cluster behind their leader. Yuli had spotted him and was crying out around the gag in her mouth, her legs trying to kick out at the dryad who held her. Now, Tamriel thought. It has to be now.

“Idris?” he breathed, hoping his words would be lost on the breeze. Idris gave an almost imperceptible nod and stepped forward.

“We have broken our bond,” he said, raising his sword in the air in mock surrender. “Tam is free to join the Hunt.”

The red cap laughed, and beckoned Tamriel forward. “Good, good,” she crowed. “Swear the oath first, then we’ll let the girl go.”

Tamriel walked forward, heading towards where Venali stood waiting. The other man looked almost disappointed, though Tamriel did not dwell on it: as he passed by the edge of the cluster of Unseelie he shouted as loud as he could, drawing his sword and spinning around to slice at the nearest goblin in one smooth movement.

The camp erupted into chaos on his signal. From somewhere to Tamriel’s left he heard a rush of water as George emerged from the river, galloping straight into the group of faeries and scattering them left right and centre. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Arlyn slip from the shadows, swinging her axe with a blood-curdling cry into the dryad who held Yuli. Tamriel watched long enough to see Yuli scarper away from the camp before turning back to the fight, holding his sword out towards two lumbering boggarts who were lurching towards him.

The boggarts’ forms shifted as they swiped at him, their arms lengthening and thickening to better strike at him even as their bodies thinned and shrank. Tamriel struck out at them both, doing his best to keep them both in front of him to prevent him being flanked, slashing again and again and being met with block after block. It felt useless, as though he were gaining no ground, and in a desperate move he kicked out at one of the boggart’s legs. It reeled back, its top-heavy body sending it staggering away, giving him a little breathing space.

No sooner had he turned his attention back to the other boggart than it shrieked, its face contorting and losing form in agony as the tip of a bronze sword emerged through its chest.

The boggart slumped to the floor to reveal Idris standing behind him, his curls askew and his mouth set in a tight line of determination. Tamriel only had time to nod his thanks before he had to call for Idris to duck, the second boggart having recovered enough to swing for them both.

They fought together in sync, Idris lunging in with his sword whenever Tamriel parried, Tamriel slashing at the boggart’s limbs whenever it reached for Idris. Together they made short work of the boggart, wearing it down until finally, with a low groan, it collapsed to its knees and Tamriel rammed his sword through its throat.

Before he got a chance to reorient himself Idris was suddenly yanked away from him, the red cap goblin grabbing a fistful of his jacket and hauling him backwards with surprising strength.

Tamriel yelled out in both anger and pain as an orc seized the opportunity to make use of his split-second of distraction to swing a massive club at him, hitting him square in the back and sending him sprawling to the ground. Tamriel rolled out of the way just as the club came down again, smashing into the empty space where he had been just a moment before.

Tamriel staggered to his feet, winded, and immediately hurled himself at the orc. He couldn’t see Idris, the orc completely blocking his view, and he frantically tried to find an opening as he lunged and stabbed and slashed away to no avail. He became completely disoriented by the battle, no longer sure of where Idris or Arlyn or George were, couldn’t even tell if they were winning, or not, beyond knowing that at least the two boggarts were down.

Diving through the orc’s legs he chanced a look around as he emerged on the other side: he could see George, a goblin dangling out of his mouth as he viciously shook his head from side to side, and he could see Venali, still standing immobile away from the fray, but he could not see Idris . Desperate, Tamriel charged at the orc, only managing to slice a shallow nick across its upper arm before he was batted away. It was far stronger than he had first thought, and Tamriel began to despair as he felt the advantage they had won at the start of the fight begin to slip away.

“Why won’t you help?” Arlyn screamed at Venali, as she swung her axe in an arc up and over her head to land deep in the shoulder of one of the goblins surrounding her.

Tamriel wasn’t able to make out his soft response, the only sounds he could hear were the dull clash of his sword against the orc’s club and the thrumming of his blood in his ears. He could guess what Venali was saying though: he was neutral, and could not take sides, “She is but a little girl! Have you no honour? No heart? Or are you a coward?”

As Tamriel dodged the orc’s blow and spun around him, he saw that Arlyn had dispatched her goblin and was standing before Venali, red in the face as she shouted up at him.

“Arlyn!” he yelled, trying to call her attention back to the main fight. He needed her, they all needed her. Finally, he e could see Idris, but he was struggling and Yuli hadn’t left - she was standing a little ways away from the camp throwing rocks at anything she could.

“I hope you feel shame,” Arlyn spat, before turning and running back into the fray. She leapt over bodies and goblins alike as she made for Idris, bringing her axe around to cut through the legs of the red cap who was backing him up against a tree. Tamriel breathed a sigh of relief, and tried to work his way back towards Idris as he continued fighting.

The orc was relentless as it pursued Tamriel, close enough to him that Tamriel could smell its stale breath and yet somehow far enough away that it managed to dodge most of his attacks. It was useless, he couldn’t win, he couldn’t -

An almighty roar sounded from nearby, and a second later one of the orc’s arms was severed clean from its body by the blade of a claymore. The orc howled in agony, clutching its wound and spinning around in anger to try to trample whoever had attacked it. Tamriel caught a flash of leather and silver behind the orc, of a great cloak fluttering with movement and felt a spark of hope: Venali had joined them in the battle.

As the orc floundered, crouching down to try and pick up its club with its other arm, Tamriel sliced forward, his sword passing Venali’s as they both stabbed at the orc. It crumpled to the ground, leaving Tamriel standing face to face with Venali. Venali’s eyes were dark, the swirling tempest of the Hunt palpable in his gaze. Whatever part of him that Arlyn had got through to was wild and determined, and before Tamriel could express his gratitude Venali had turned and charged back into the centre of the fight.

Tamriel could feel the tide of the battle turning as Venali joined them, could see panic begin to spread amongst the Unseelie ranks. With a shout he ran for the nearest goblin, his sword slicing cleanly through its back as it was distracted by an approaching George. They could do this, they could win, they just had to -

One of the goblins let out a piercing whistle, and dread filled Tamriel’s heart: across the river he could see heads popping up from the ground, a hoard of hidden Unseelie suddenly making themselves known with crooked grins and jagged blades. There were over a dozen of them, two dozen, each of them charging across the river with wicked laughter.

“Fall back!” he shouted, though he knew it was too late. Even if they ran, they would soon be caught.

The second wave of Unseelie forces crashed over them, Arlyn swept clean off her feet as an orc dipped its shoulder and charged straight into her. She was up again in an instant, her axe in one hand and a dagger in her other, pushing Idris behind her in a futile attempt to keep him from harm.

It was all Tamriel could do to stand his ground, to fight back against the chattering goblins and shambling boggarts that swiped and stabbed at him. The flicker of hope he had felt was truly gone, barely even a memory. He kept fighting on instinct, his muscles straining with every lunge with his sword, but his mind had begun to slip.

They were still standing, but they had lost.

Venali and Arlyn were fighting back to back, ducking and weaving around each other as the hoard of Unseelie moved in ever closer, surrounding them. A pained whinny came from behind Tamriel, and he turned to see that an Unseelie with a flame for its head had cornered George, the bright fire of its head slowly drying the kelpie out. Yuli was screaming, biting at the arm of the goblin who had grabbed her to no avail and Idris -

Idris was on his back, his fingers scrabbling desperately for the sword that was just out of his reach, the snarling orc above him swinging its club back in preparation of dealing the final blow.

“Stop!” Tamriel bellowed. “I yield.”