Chapter 40

CHAPTER 40

W ind shrieks in my ears, and cold rain spatters my cheek. The portal key in my hand is suddenly blazing hot, and I drop it to the grass at my feet. It hisses, steam rising from the metal.

I look up to see Ysolde on her knees, vomiting onto the wet grass. I know how she feels. This one is even more disorienting than Avalon's ley portal.

Rainclouds churn overhead, and Raphael pulls his cloak tightly around him, staring at something over my shoulder.

I turn to see a castle of weathered stone standing at the base of a tree-lined hill. Its ancient walls tower above us, tinged red in the sunset. This castle could belong back in Brocéliande , but when I look up, the moon is already out. A full, single moon.

"Any idea where we are?" asks Raphael.

Ysolde stands, her face pale. "We can ask him."

A man wearing wellies and a tweed jacket steps out of the castle. He's carrying a large hunting rifle, and he aims it straight at us. "Not one step closer," he hollers in a Scottish accent. "This rifle is loaded with iron bullets, and I can hit all three of you before you say Jack Robinson."

I hold up my hands. "We aren't moving! We're staying right where we are."

"My English isn't so good," Ysolde whispers. "What is this Jack Robinson?"

"It's just an old human saying." Stupidly, tears spring to my eyes at hearing English again. "We're somewhere in Scotland. I was right. The portal key was intended to take Talan to Scotland."

"We're not Fey, we're demi-Fey!" Raphael calls back to the man in English. "We mean you no harm."

"Yeah? Not being funny, lad, but when I see pointy ears, I'm not exactly brimming with confidence."

"I'm undercover," I call out. "I grew up in Los Angeles. I'm not really Fey." I try to think of the most human things I can. "As a kid, I ate McDonald's Happy Meals with plastic toys. I drink Dunkin' Donuts coffee with vanilla flavor shots. My favorite food as a kid was corn dogs."

I turn to see Raphael staring at me, horrified.

The man keeps the rifle aimed at me. "Christ, lass, now I'm tempted to shoot you to put you out of your misery," he says, slowly lowering the gun. "Americans, here now, as well as the Fey. Not sure which is worse. No offense, but you look proper Fey to me. You've got the pointy Fey ears, not the half-breed sort."

"It's glamour," I say. "We're agents working with the allied armies. My name is Nia."

He takes another step closer. "I'm Cameron. So, what are you doing all the way here? The war is mainly to the south, as far as I know."

"This is just where the portal dropped us. Do you have a phone? We need to get in contact with our superior officers."

"Phones are knackered. Stopped working completely all through Scotland a few weeks ago," he says.

"A telegram?" I ask desperately. " Any way to get in touch?"

He shakes his head. "We're back to the Middle Ages. Homing pigeons and messengers, that's all we have. My eejit cousin thought we could deliver messages by smoke signals, and he nearly burned his house down."

"Where are we, exactly?" I ask.

"We're at Castle Menzies. We have a bunch of war refugees staying here now, escaping the Fey soldiers. I'm the bloody welcoming committee."

"Castle Menzies." I frown. "Where is that?"

"Near Aberfeldy."

I recall the weeks spent poring over Scotland's map with Avalon Tower knights, trying to figure out the best lines of defense against the Fey army. I turn to Raphael. "I know Aberfeldy. We're way too far north. The majority of our army is about a hundred and fifty kilometers south of here, near Glasgow. More than that, really, because there are no direct roads. We'll need transportation."

Going by the brief glimpses of Talan's mind, the portal he plans to use for this attack is about ten miles north of something called "Green Hollow." I'm almost certain that's Glasgow. Auberon will be opening a portal there.

Raphael glances at Cameron. "Can you tell us the fastest way to get to Glasgow?"

"You won't get there driving. The roads are in shambles. You won't get more than five kilometers with a car."

"Horses?" I ask desperately.

"I suppose you could get horses in town," Cameron says thoughtfully. He walks closer to us, scratching his cheek.

"We can't ride a hundred and fifty kilometers on horses in one day," Ysolde points out. "Especially not in our state."

"What if we get to a northern military post?" Raphael says. "Cameron says people are using homing pigeons. They might have those, or some similar way of delivering a message."

"There's one north of Perth," I say slowly. "That's closer. We could maybe get there in time."

Cameron shakes his head. "The ways to Perth are crawling with Fey patrols. There's no way you'll get through on horseback. You'll be captured in no time."

"We have to try," Raphael says. "Ysolde, you can stay here. Nia, you, too. I'll grab a horse and try to?—"

"No way," Ysolde says.

I close my eyes. "Let me think. Cameron, there's a river nearby, right?"

"Aye, that's right. River Tay."

"Right!" My eyes snap open again, my excitement rising. "And the river flows right through Perth, doesn't it?"

"Aye," Cameron says. "It goes east, then south to Perth."

"We could take a boat to Perth," I say.

"We can get you a boat," Cameron says. "But it's a wild river, especially in the past weeks. I think the Fey magic makes it even rougher. Their presence has a certain wild effect on nature."

"That's all right," I say, grinning. "Ysolde here can handle a wild river. Right, Ysolde?"

"Is true," Ysolde tells the man in broken English. "I am what humans call a Mo-zets."

"Eh?" Cameron squints.

"She's an expert in whitewater rafting," I quickly say, hoping to avoid going down that particular rabbit hole. "Can you get us a boat? We need to get moving as soon as possible."

The boat belongs to a local fisherman, who seems brokenhearted to sell it to us. "Used to fish in it with my dad down in the loch," he tells me, his voice cracking, "but he died two years ago, and with those Fey monsters everywhere, I cannae risk using it."

"I'm sorry about your father," I say, handing him two diamond rings that Talan gave me. "I understand."

"My family needs to eat, and we're running out of food. Shops are empty, markets are empty. A Fey patrol went into our town last week. They killed my mate and his wife for no reason at all." He stares at the rings in his hand. "Maybe with this, we'll be able to get on one of the outlaw boats to Ireland. Leave our home behind for now."

"You might be able to return soon," I say. "If we win this battle."

He raises a shaggy eyebrow at that. "Do you know what's going on, lass? The humans are getting massacred. This place will be overridden by Fey within days. I can only hope that Ireland's not next."

He turns, shaking his head as he walks away, shoulders slumped.

Ysolde sits in the back of the wooden boat, one with two benches and oars. We push our boat into the water, and I take the back bench.

At the start, the river doesn't seem rough, but within minutes, the water churns around us, the current sweeping us faster and faster. As we move, silky magic washes over my skin. I glance at Ysolde and see that her eyes are nearly shut, and her body is tense with concentration. She's pushing the current, giving us speed, and the water pulls us along much faster than I thought possible. Snow-dusted trees and rolling hills flash by, and droplets of water splash on my face as we accelerate. The water churns, nearly ripping one of the oars from my hands. I pull them into the boat, and Raphael does the same.

Ysolde doesn't need our help. As she takes control over the river, I curl into the damp bottom of the rocking boat and drift into the land of sleep.

"Nia!"

My eyes snap open, panic enveloping me as I struggle to understand where I am and what the fuck I'm doing. The world is rocking violently around me, and I'm shivering with cold, drenched with wintry river water.

Oh, right.

Blinking, I sit up, the boat wobbling.

The water around us is white, frothing with fury against jagged rocks. I look ahead, and we're hurtling toward an evil-looking boulder with alarming speed. I let out a yell as we veer to the left, missing the huge rock by a fraction of an inch.

Raphael is frantically rowing. I glance at Ysolde. Her eyes are rolling in their sockets, her lips moving without a sound, an aura of static magical power emanating from her.

"I've been calling you over and over!" Raphael shouts over the churn of the water. "Grab your oars."

Crawling back onto the bench, I snatch my oars from the bottom of the boat, the cobwebs of sleep still clouding my mind.

"Push us away from incoming rocks!" Raphael shouts. "Be on the lookout for more."

Up ahead, jagged rocks rise from the water like enormous broken teeth. I sink my oar in the water, turning us to the right. The current shifts and aligns itself with my oar, helping us along. The boat dodges, but not fast enough. We won't be able to escape both of the rocks.

"Aim for that large gap between them!" I shout back.

I paddle like a madwoman. The water rises sharply around us as Ysolde's magic transforms the river into long, straight waves by our sides, a magical funnel that helps to steer us. Working together, we manage to push the boat at the gap, but I quickly realize we won't fit through.

"Fuck!" I shout, as a terrible scraping sound fills my ears.

The boat shudders, then shoots through the rocks, splintered on the right side where it hit the rock. I frantically check the bottom of the boat for holes, but it looks fine. The hole, at least, is high enough that it won't sink us.

"We're fine, we're fine, we're fine," I mutter to myself.

When I look up, I see more rocks, and the river whorls around us. The air above the river spray shimmers with magic.

"Is that Ysolde's magic?" I ask.

"The land is reacting to the Fey army," Raphael shouts. "Ancient magic is now stirring, magic that has been dormant for centuries."

The river grows wilder.

My heart is still in my throat, my breathing ragged from effort. We've been struggling with the rocks for nearly an hour while all around us, the rapids roar. I grip the oars tight as I try to help steer. Battered by the current, we struggle to keep control.

Arrows pierce the water around us, and my heart skips a beat.

I look up to see Fey riders on horseback. They're gaining on us, galloping along the bank, their horses kicking up mud by the riverside.

"Archers!" I scream.

They loose more arrows at us.

These archers are fucking fast , and they're gaining on us.

An arrow thunks into our boat, the tip deeply embedded in the stern.

As I duck, another arrow whistles just above my head. Three more fly behind me, one of them cluttering into the wood.

"They're aiming at Ysolde!" Raphael shouts.

My blood roars. They must've realized that Ysolde is using magic to steer us in the wild river. If she dies, we all die. While she's managing the magical energy of the water in a trance state, Ysolde can't duck for protection like I can.

Another arrow misses Ysolde by a hair. Raphael scrambles to his feet, the boat rocking dangerously.

"What are you doing? You'll tip us over!" I shout.

He grabs his bench and pulls, gritting his teeth. With a sickening wooden crack, the bench snaps free in his hand. He crawls over to Ysolde with the plank and holds it in front of her, shielding her from the arrows.

Two more fly at Ysolde and Raphael. One hits the shield, the other sinks into his shoulder. Blood pours down his arm. A third arrow flies at me, whistling over my head.

I glare at the archers. We've gone too far to die now. I pick up my bow and grab an arrow from the quiver, then take aim and fire. As we rock in the rapids, it should be impossible to properly shoot an arrow. When it finds its mark, I let out a gasp of surprise. One of the riders topples from his horse, an arrow in his side. His mount veers off course—right in front of one of the other horses.

Here, surrounded by water humming with magic, power vibrates within me. But it's not just my own. The ancient, dormant power of the Lady of the Lake has risen to the surface.

An arrow zings toward me. I stare at it. Time slows, and the arrow seems to be crawling through the air. I shift aside, and it whistles harmlessly by me. With a dark smile, I shoot another arrow, and it hits its mark.

Three soldiers down. Four to go.

"Nia! Look ahead!" Raphael shouts.

I twist around and let out a curse. Directly ahead of us, an enormous rapid roars. I drop the bow, grab my oar, and start paddling, though I'm not even sure where to. The boat tips into the rapid and dives, churning water filling it. As we're slamming against a rock, the boat turns sideways and becomes trapped in the frothing rapid, unable to break free. I try to push us away with the oar, and it snaps from my hand. The river devours it like a hungry beast.

Two more arrows thunk into the side of the boat. The four soldiers have halted their horses, and they're taking careful aim. We're no longer moving, and this time, they won't miss.

I grab my bow, my movement lightning fast. I fire another arrow, and one of them topples from his horse, an arrow in his neck. Dead before he has time to scream. The three others let their arrows loose. Two fly at Ysolde and Raphael, both hitting Raphael's shield. The third arrow flies at me. Again, time slows, and I lower my head as the arrow speeds by.

Another well-aimed arrow flies directly at Ysolde. Raphael moves his makeshift shield just in time, and the arrow hits the plank.

The boat is quickly filling with water, and we're still trapped, slamming against a rock. At this point, we have mere seconds before we sink.

I scramble on the boat's floor and grab an oar. Roaring with fury, I sink it into the water. I feel the unyielding power of the turbulence that traps us and push against it with all my strength. The oar bends in my hands, creaking, and I snarl at it, willing it not to snap. And then, with a joint push from my oar and Ysolde's magic, we break free, hurtling down the river, arrows flying in our wake.

I look back as the riders are left behind, unable to catch up with us.

But the river is hungry now, and it demands payment. The water rages, and we hold on for dear life as the side of the boat tips and rises, then plunges down, down, down beneath the cold surface.

I hold my breath as the icy river swallows me. I don't know up from down. Under the water, my head slams against something hard, and the world floats away.