Chapter 32

32

When he got the moment he needed, Allarion thumped his left shoulder against a tree, popping it back into socket. His groan of relief was profound; a few moments longer being pulled by whips and roots, he’d have split in half.

His body was littered with many littler, isolated pains, but they all converged to make him feel like one large, exposed nerve.

That didn’t matter right now, though.

Getting his feet under him, Allarion turned back into the melee.

He didn’t know how or why his land was suddenly swarming with half-orcs, manticores, harpies, and armored human knights, only that it was because of her. He tried to find her in the fray, the sharp dread that’d stabbed him when he saw her riding atop Bellarand straight for his fae attackers still smarting.

Another pang nearly leveled him when he saw Bellarand doing battle with two unicorns, riderless.

He caught the collar of the first person he could find.

Hakon. Excellent.

“Allarion!” the half-orc exclaimed. “Are you badly hurt?”

“Where is Molly?” he rumbled.

The halfling’s green face paled.

There was little time to hiss at the lordling—the final fae still astride his mount came barreling toward them. Hakon raised his battle axe as the dread-mount lowered his horn.

Allarion didn’t have time for halfling bravery nor this battle at all. He needed to find Molly.

With his good arm, he shoved Hakon away, out of the path of the charging unicorn, and caught the brunt of the attack himself. He grimaced, baring his fangs in agony as the horn punctured the meat of his left shoulder above his clavicle.

Grabbing the horn, Allarion stared down the dread-mount. Eyes as hot as burning coals seared him, and the horn prickled and sparked with heated magic against his palm.

Wrenching the horn from his flesh, he pulled the unicorn away. The dread-mount screamed in outrage, neck twisting painfully. Allarion kept hold, no matter how the horn burned or the unicorn hooves tried to paw at him. The fae knight swung his sword but Allarion was too close, pulling the unicorn around by the horn until he had no choice but to fall with his rider lest he break his neck.

The two went tumbling to the ground in a clatter of metal. A frenzy of tawny manticores fell upon them, fangs and claws flashing, and Allarion turned away.

He picked up a discarded blade, the perfect balance of it feeling right in his hand.

The border of the estate had fallen into chaos, pockets of fighting watering the tree roots with blood. The other two dread- mounts had gone back-to-back, fending off Bellarand’s thrusts as harpies swooped from above. One fae knight had been caught in the middle of a circle of half-orcs and human knights, all trying to land a blow. So far, the warrior kept them at bay, but their numbers were too great. The last fae knight had managed to get a tree at his back as he fought the dragon Theron and three halflings.

Nowhere did Allarion see Molly.

It was time to put an end to this.

Although blood gushed and pain radiated down his size, Allarion charged the fae with his back to the tree. Cutting through the allies gathered there, he swung his blade. The warrior jerked just in time to avoid being pinned to the bark, the blade sinking into the tree just at his jaw.

“Yield,” Allarion demanded in faethling.

“No,” the warrior growled back. His hand darted for his belt, but Theron was quicker, kicking the dagger from his hand.

“Yield,” Allarion said again. “You can be free of her—just lay down your weapons.”

“You know we cannot.”

“Enough,” rumbled Theron, “we don’t need to play with the food.”

The fae warrior sneered up at the dragon. “I will squeeze your heart from the inside, scale-rot.”

Allarion sensed the movement before it happened, saw the defiance in the eyes of his kin—but was too slow to stop it.

The warrior struck at Theron’s knee, hobbling the dragon. The male loosed a thundering shout as he buckled, leaving his flank vulnerable. Grabbing the blade Allarion had sunk in the tree, the fae lurched forward, splinters flying as the blade wrenched free. It flashed in a perfect arc, down at Theron’s head.

Allarion threw himself against his fellow fae, driving the knight back into the bark.

Face to face, the knight smiled sadly at him—before plunging a knife in his side.

Sadness passed between them, an understanding between kin. In another life, they may have fought beside each other, brothers in arms, bound by loyalty and honor. But that was not this life, where both had their duties to their queens.

Allarion felt no anger, no spite. He felt hardly anything when a green hand pulled him backward, out of the way of the enraged dragon.

Theron’s red muzzle elongated in a partial shift, and he opened wide, baring every single sharp tooth as he roared in the fae’s face. With vicious quickness, he raked his claws across the fae’s face and throat, opening up four black lines in his flesh. Black blood spurted from the fae’s neck, but before he could fall, another swipe from the other direction nearly decapitated him.

Allarion turned away, relieved at least that the knight was dead before the dragon descended on him in a bestial frenzy.

Someone said something, perhaps to him, but Allarion did not hear. Covering his slashed side with a hand, he felt the warm, sticky blood pooling there.

Damn, that stings.

He locked his knees to keep upright, viewing what remained of the battlefield.

The unicorns glistened with sweat and blood, claw marks scoring their backs and flanks. The other fae warrior had succumbed, slumped on his knees as the party gathered round him took turns delivering killing blows.

Numbness tried to blanket his senses, but it couldn’t totally snuff the sick feeling in his gut.

“Orek, give us your hatchet—maybe it will cut through this damn horn.”

Allarion turned to look at the manticores, the whole pride gathered round the slain unicorn and his rider. Paws and muzzles bloodied, one of the brothers stood with his foot on the unicorn’s head, claws wrapped round the horn. A handful of blades lay scattered around him, bent or broken.

Allarion’s upper lip peeled back from his fangs. “You will not. ”

The hair on the manticores’ shoulders lifted, their leonine eyes rounding at the ferocity of his tone.

Allarion met Balar’s gaze and held it. Dread-mounts were never to be made trophies, only treated with the utmost respect. All of the triad may have been his enemies, but they still deserved honor in death.

Finally, Balar nodded. With a wave of his paw, his younger brother stepped back from the unicorn, letting the head fall to the ground.

When he was sure the manticores would heed him, Allarion turned back to the others.

“Enough,” he called. “Enough!”

His shout rang through the trees, bringing a halt to every swing and blow, and even Theron paused, his face bloodied black.

“I thank you for your aid, my friends, but enough fae blood has been spilled today.”

The harpies landed, and the halflings stepped back from the battered body of the remaining fae knight. With a bob of Bellarand’s horn, the two unicorns, trembling and bloodied, got to their knees and then on the ground, laying their heads on the trampled dirt in submission.

“Where is my azai? ”

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Allarion hissed in pain. His vision swam, and when he staggered, that hand caught his arm to keep him upright.

“Steady on,” said Hakon gently.

“Where is Molly?”

You can come down now, titmouse, Bellarand called.

The sound of scrambling and breaking twigs echoed from across the battlefield, and Allarion managed to turn his head to see Molly clambering down from a tall linden tree.

My clever girl.

“Molly.”

She jumped the final distance, racing across the strewn earth to him, her curls wild and her eyes flashing with tears.

“Allarion!” she yelped.

She flung her arms around him, and Allarion slumped into her embrace from the sheer relief. And blood loss.

Head feeling too heavy, he laid it on her shoulder as he tried to keep his legs under him.

“My Molly, I love you so,” he murmured.

“Don’t you dare!” she shrieked.

It took a moment of blinking to bring her dear face back into focus, and it troubled him to find it so afraid. He tried to wrap his arms around her, but he hadn’t the strength to hold her as tightly as he wished.

“Why do you weep? We’ve won the day.”

“You’re bleeding, ” she cried, voice still unpleasantly shrill.

“Oh.” He grimaced, remembering how his palm was full of his own blood. “Yes, that. I’ve had worse.”

She snorted with disbelief, almost making him laugh. “You’re losing so much blood. Too much blood.” Pressing her lips to his ear, she whispered, “Take mine. Take as much as you need.”

Her words roused him enough to shake his head. “I cannot. I won’t. I need…” He sighed, thinking perhaps he should be worried he couldn’t feel his hands or feet. “The meadow, take me there, sweetling.”

Molly got her shoulder beneath Allarion’s arms and braced her legs to stop him from going down. She yelped his name when his head lolled against her shoulder and a wordless moan buzzed against her skin.

But when Lord Hakon reached out to help, she swatted him away. “No! Don’t touch him!”

“Miss Molly…”

“I just—I need to get him to the meadow. Bellarand. Where’s Bellarand? Bellarand!”

Here I am. The unicorn trotted forward, ducking his head to get Allarion’s other arm over his thick neck.

Although his eyes were closed, Allarion grimaced with pain.

Molly whimpered to see it. “Bellarand,” she keened.

I know. We can heal this. Let’s get him to the meadow. The forest will help.

She didn’t know how it could, but Molly didn’t really care right now. She knew it didn’t make sense to keep Hakon and the others away and instead give the forest a chance, but she wasn’t reasonable right now—not with her fae stabbed and slashed.

She’d only caught glimpses of it from across the makeshift battlefield, but Molly felt when her fae was wounded. It ripped at her soul, and only Bellarand’s colorful threats kept her up in that tree.

“Miss Molly, we should see to his wounds at the house,” Lord Hakon said.

“You all go back to the house,” she told them as she and Bellarand got Allarion walking. “The house will take care of you. I’ll be there soon. Just…just go to the house.”

The others looked on in bafflement as she and Bellarand led their fae away, but she didn’t care. After weeks and months with this fae and his grumpy unicorn, Molly was used to the strangeness. She was part of it now. They could all deal with it for an hour while she got Allarion to the meadow.

It was a slow, arduous walk. More than once, Molly begged him to mount Bellarand so the unicorn could take them, but Allarion insisted he could walk. The only reason she and Bellarand didn’t force it was, without his helping her, it’d take too much time and effort to get him safely astride the unicorn.

The trees and ferns and brambles cleared a path for them, making the ground easier to tread. Limbs lifted out of their way, and roots sank so they wouldn’t trip. Still, Molly watched every footfall, so closely that she didn’t realize it at first when they made it to the meadow.

“Here,” Allarion mumbled.

They set him down as carefully as they could. A bed of moss pushed up from the ground to cushion his way, and he settled comfortably on the earth.

Molly collapsed beside him, tears dripping down her cheeks.

“What now?” she asked. “What do you need?”

“Sleep,” he said before going still.

A sound of alarm caught in her throat. “Allarion, wait—!”

Let him, Bellarand cautioned. A long sleep will do him good.

Molly tried to swallow her worry, but she didn’t like seeing him preternaturally still. The long sleep took him away for a day, sometimes longer. Probably even longer with his wounds.

Another sound leapt up her throat when she saw roots and vines beginning to curl around his limbs.

“No!” she cried. “You can’t take anything from him!”

Bellarand touched his soft muzzle to her arm. It’s all right, titmouse. Watch.

With effort, Molly sat back on her haunches, watching through her tearful, blurry eyes. As the vines climbed over him, a soft glow emanated from their tips, a warm, golden light that reminded her of a summer sun. The foliage was careful not to directly touch his wounds, but as they crawled over him into a blanket, the blood staunched.

Allarion released a relieved sigh, the lines around his mouth smoothing.

Slumping back onto her rump, Molly witnessed nothing short of a miracle.

The forest gave back what Allarion had given. She didn’t know how she knew, just that she watched it happen. It wasn’t solely Allarion’s magic, either. It was a combination, the threads of his magic and that of the land’s woven together. It covered him in a soft halo of light, little sparkling threads, like spiderweb, cocooning him.

The warmth of the magic radiated from the fractals of light. Molly could feel it on her hands and cheeks, where it dried her tears.

The glow bathing him reflected in dozens of pinpoints around the meadow. Molly looked up in wonder as forest creatures began emerging from the trees. A herd of deer. A family of rabbits. Raccoons chittered on the branches, and moles came up from their holes. The rounded ears of a black bear twitched by a tree, although Molly didn’t fear it.

From the forest, a red squirrel bounded up to them. Tail twitching, its liquid black eyes stared up at her for a moment before it laid an acorn beside Allarion. With a little chitter at Bellarand, the squirrel hurried back to the forest.

Only for another, and another to come, bearing acorns. The deer bore twigs, the raccoons pinecones. The black bear left a mouthful of late blackberries. One after the other, they left their gifts.

Molly’s heart swelled. They were paying a sort of tribute. And more and more gathered at the edge of the meadow, watching over her fae.

Looking out at all of them, more tears began to run down her face. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Beside her, Bellarand folded his legs under him to lay down. He let her lean back against his bulk, her body quivering as relief washed through her.

“The forest is healing him,” she said, hardly believing the words as they left her lips.

It’s helping him heal, Bellarand said.

Molly didn’t care to parse out the difference. What mattered was that her fae would live.

Of course he’ll live, snorted Bellarand. The both of us are far harder to kill than with a few measly stabbings.

She couldn’t help wincing at his brusque attempt at reassurance. Molly never wanted to experience anything like today ever again.

“Just heal him,” she begged the trees and the animals and the earth. “Bring him back to me.”