Chapter 43

CHAPTER 43

T he hill overlooks a large valley with a small stream running through it. Talan must have chosen this location to keep the soldiers hidden as they step through the portal into Scotland.

My heart thunders. There are already dozens of them, a hundred at least. They pour into the grassy valley below us, clustering in groups. Most are heavily armored, carrying enormous swords. They've brought horses with them, too. They're inspecting their gear, preparing for battle. A few men wear command insignia on their armor, and they're barking orders. As I look, five more Fey materialize from thin air.

The journey through the portal looks as rough for them as it was for us. They land hard on their hands and knees, and one of them vomits where he lands.

"We have to strike now," Viviane whispers.

"Are you insane?" Pearson hisses. "They outnumber us eight to one."

"And soon it will be twelve to one, then fifteen to one, then fifty to one," Viviane says. "And that's before the dragon shows up. Right now, many of them don't look too healthy. The longer we wait, the worse our chances are."

"The passage through the portal is disorienting," I explain. "It takes time to adjust."

"Close the portal right now!" Pearson says. "Before more show up."

"It'll take me some time," I say. "And they'll probably notice my magic when I do it."

"Then we'll supply you with cover fire," Viviane says grimly. "Most of our group will stay with you. We'll send others to attack the Fey as they're coming through the portal. They'll be at their weakest right after they appear."

The five new Fey arrivals are ushered away by a sergeant.

A few seconds later, five more show up, the portal humming as they arrive. It's much larger than the ley portal from the Avalon dolmens. This one is immense , a vast tear in the fabric of space—a black hole with ragged edges, as though it were violently ripped from the world. It's big enough to allow hundreds of soldiers through. Big enough to let a dragon through.

The blood drains from my face.

Pearson starts commanding his men, positioning them hidden atop the hill, rifles ready. In the tall grass, fifteen human soldiers take their positions around me, protecting me. The others quickly beeline to a higher point, where the craggy hill rises up to the north. From there, they'll have the best angle to fire at the Fey as they arrive.

As the Fey march through the portal, one group at a time, Talan's plan takes shape.

I clench my jaw in frustration, cursing myself for not getting us here sooner.

"Okay," Viviane says. "Start, Nia. We'll provide you with cover and take out as many as we can while you try to close it."

I nod and dig my fingers into the snowy earth. Through the soil, I feel the buzz of powerful magic, and I try to understand its structure.

As I focus, a volley of explosions thunders through the air. Near the portal, a few Fey soldiers fall to the ground, some screaming. Two of them are lying still, bleeding from their heads. Now, like an anthill that's been kicked, the soldiers beneath us scurry for protection, readying their swords and bows. Commanders call out instructions, and one of them is instantly gunned down. Pearson must have told his men to target the officers first.

I try to block the chaos from my mind and focus on the portal. Wrapping my powers around it, I push at it, threading my own crimson magic into the gaps, but the magic of the portal doesn't react to my attempts.

Below, the Fey are scrambling, regrouping. One of the commanders manages to get a cluster of soldiers in formation, protected by a line of shields. Behind the shields, Fey archers aim high and let their arrows loose. I hear a scream as an arrow finds its mark.

From the gaping portal, ten new soldiers materialize. The Fey army is moving faster now. Someone must have given the order to rush. Though they seem dazed by the passage, their weapons are drawn, and they're ready to fight as they come through. A volley of iron bullets takes three of them down, but the others quickly run to the cover of nearby boulders.

I exhale, tugging at my energy reserves. I channel the tendrils of red, summoning my power into a great ball, and fling it at the portal.

The portal swallows it, a black hole devouring red ribbons of my magic.

And now, it's caught the Fey's attention. The Fey are more attuned to magic than humans are. At the feel of my magic rushing down the hill, many of them turn their heads toward me. Someone shouts a command.

And with a blood-curdling battle cry, dozens rush toward my position. My breath goes still, my body shaking with primal fear.

The Fey raise their metal shields against incoming bullets and charge. Archers cover them as they storm up the hill. Many of them fall to our fire, but arrows land around us, some hitting our own men.

Agonized screams echo through the valley, and my blood roars. Clenching my fingers, I unleash another magical torrent. Red streaks through the air, soaring for the portal.

This time, I feel something different, a glimpse of a crack in the portal as the Fey soldiers come through.

The portal magic grows vulnerable, weaker, as the Fey travel through it, I realize.

Before I can make use of this discovery, three Fey warriors bear down on me, yards away, their teeth bared in grimaces. A bullet takes out one of them, and he twists and topples backward down the hill, but the other two keep coming, and they're not ten feet away. I look at them, petrified. I reach for an arrow, knowing that it's already too late?—

A blade swings, sending one soldier's head flying, and the rest of his body collapses onto the hillside. Viviane stands over him, her sword dripping blood. She pivots to the other and breaks his nose with the pommel of her sword, then kicks him brutally in the chest. He tumbles down the slope.

"Nia, get that fucking thing closed!" she shouts.

I turn my attention back to the portal, blocking out the screams and volleys of bullets around me, sending a tendril of magic at the portal, probing it carefully.

It flickers, and I see two worlds.

It's as if Brocéliande and Scotland suddenly exist in the same place and time. I can still see a Scottish valley, the stream churning through it, our soldiers fighting the much larger force of Fey. But I can also glimpse the snowy landscape of Brocéliande spreading out and a military camp with white tents surrounded by high snow-capped mountains. The Fey soldiers stand in large formations—legions of them. A vast army waiting to charge through.

My heart skips a beat.

It's one thing to know that the advancing army numbers two thousand. It's a different thing to see them. Rows and rows of armored cavalry, archers, magicians, and knights. And behind them, a midnight-blue dragon raises his head, opening his maw to roar. The sound rumbles through my gut, making me want to run. Dread dances up my nape.

Now, mounted cavalry charge through the portal, and I can glimpse them shifting from one reality to the other, materializing in the battlefield here.

My double-world vision fades. I blink, my head pounding. The Fey horses are spooked and run in different directions. One collapses, crushing its rider. But the other riders take control of their mounts and manage to turn them to the hill.

They're charging right for us.

A volley of fire hits them. Some go down. Some don't. Through my fear, I force myself to focus.

When it opened, I saw the two worlds shift together. That's when I have to strike. But it's easier said than done. My mind isn't built to see two realities intertwined. I'm nauseated, and my head spins. Most of my magic is already depleted from my earlier attempts. I summon what I can of it, gathering the red flares, and send my power out to the portal. Now, the battle sounds seem muted in my ears. An arrow thunks into the ground a few inches away from me, but I don't lose my focus.

The portal shifts again.

The worlds coalesce.

More Fey are gathering to charge through, a group of archers and another group of heavily armored warriors. A man, taller than the rest, shouts commands at them, and his dark cloak billows around him. He turns to face me.

My heart sinks as I behold the shockingly beautiful face of the Fey prince.

His black hair catches in the wind as he roars orders at the men, urging them to move. Fear cuts me down to the marrow. He's going to come through the portal. He'll find me here—Brocéliande's worst traitor. The mistress who turned on her prince.

I dig my fingers deeper into the cold soil and focus my senses on the portal. I now have a sense of the complex energy that weaves it into the world. It's a masterful work of magic—an art form, like a tapestry. And yet, I can see its weaknesses. I can unravel it, thread by thread, if I just have enough time. I concentrate on one weak link and channel my power at it. The portal's magic vibrates under the onslaught of my power, thinning, about to shatter?—

The archers charge through the portal, and a flash of raw energy runs through it as they do. The power jolts through my bones, and I grunt in agony, my concentration shattered.

The portal flickers again. Brocéliande disappears, and Talan is no longer in view.

In the valley before us, the archers all kneel, the warriors standing in front of them, protecting them with their shields. A hail of arrows flies through the air, more precise than before. Talan has now brought the best of his archers forward to eliminate our forces. He wants to end the threat from us as quickly as he can.

Pearson shouts, but his command is cut short as an arrow tears through his throat. Around me, I feel death closing in. The scent of gunpowder and blood fills the air.

The earth thunders as the cavalry gallop up the hill, hooves pounding. Fear keens in my skull.

Blood runs down Viviane's face, dripping into her eyes. "We're running out of time. It's now or never. Can you do it?"

This time, I'm certain. "I can do it."

"I believe in you, Nia. Stop those fuckers. Save us all."

She turns to face the incoming riders. "For Camelot!" she roars, and rushes at them.

I've never seen a warrior move so quickly. She leaps at the first, lopping his sword arm off. Pivoting, she's already throwing a knife at another. She blocks a sword swing, the metal blades scraping together, and manages to pull a rider off his horse. More men are upon her, and an arrow sinks into her side, but she doesn't stop. She's a whirlwind of thrusts and slashes.

Once, she told me that you beat your opponent by using everything you've got. And this is everything she has.

My heart pounds, a war drum in my chest.

Our few remaining soldiers join her, firing at the incoming Fey.

One by one, they fall, their blood mingling with snow. The world grows colder, darker. I can taste the blood in the air. I blink the tears from my eyes and focus once more on the portal.

It flickers and shifts, Brocéliande reappearing in the gap.

Terror sinks its claws into my heart.

The dragon is only fifty feet away from the portal. The monster opens his mouth to unleash a gout of fire.

Talan rides on his back, his dark cloak whipping in the air behind him.

For just a heartbeat, he looks my way, his dark eyes locked on me. I know he can't see me, but a shiver of fear runs through me. He knows .

Beating its wings, the dragon rises into the air.

I focus on the portal, searching frantically for the weak link. There! I channel all my fear, my desperation, my anguish at that one thin spot, and slam my crimson magic at it. It vibrates with the force and starts to crack.

The dragon runs for the portal, wings spread, flying for the opening. Talan grips it tightly, his mouth open in a war cry.

The dragon roars and belches fire.

My magic spreads, cracking red over the portal like a spiderweb of broken glass. And as the dragon flies for the gap, the cracks widen, shattering. The portal disappears, and the dragon's roar goes silent.

The Fey feel the portal die, and they stumble, disoriented, the world shifting around them. A few humans are still aiming at them. Bullets fly, hitting the Fey warriors, taking them down, one by one. Swallowing hard, I ready my bow and nock an arrow. My first bolt takes down a Fey archer, and my next kills a charging knight.

They don't know that we're outnumbered. They only know they're stranded in a hostile world, cut off from their forces, and that they're being shot with iron bullets. Someone shouts an order to retreat, and they turn and run.

With shaking legs, I manage to stand. On the slopes below me, bodies stain the earth with gore. The dead lie among the injured, and moans fill the air. As I catch my breath, I turn to see what's left of our forces. My throat tightens. Only four men are still standing.

Tears blur my vision, and I stumble over to Viviane, sorrow pulling me apart.

Her body is a mess, cut in countless places. Her pale blue eyes stare vacantly at the sky. Blood streaks her face, and I close her mouth, her eyes.

I choke out a sob.

I hated her when I met her. She hated me.

Then, somehow, she grew to be one of the people I trusted and admired the most.

And now, after giving Camelot everything she had, she's gone for good.