Nineteen – 07

Posted on August 18, 2017 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

My voice lodged in my throat as the first get of fire shot from one of his hands, lancing out into the rain and the wind, catching a camazotzi in the chest. The stench of burning flesh hit me like a punch to the face and I reeled, would have fallen if Phelan’s arm wasn’t still locked around my shoulders.

“Steady,” he whispered.

I grit my teeth, reaching for an arrow. Seamus ordered another volley.

Rory was building a ball of flame between his palms, his jaw set, something dark in his eyes, a grim determination that I’d seen only a few times in all the years I’d known him. He stared out over the field, his gaze roaming, as if he was searching for something.

“Archers ready,” Seamus called on the other side of Phelan.

Matt’s hand wrapped around my arm before I could draw. I looked at him and he stared back, a bleakness in his eyes. “It’s not good,” he whispered.

“Sif?”

He nodded. “If she dies, he’s going to snap.”

My stomach bottomed out and I swallowed the bile that suddenly crept upward in my throat. “I know,” I whispered, feeling ice water sluice through my veins. “But there’s nothing I can do about that right now except end this fight, so if you’ve got any bright ideas, I’m open to suggestions.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the glow building in the last second before Rory sent a massive ball of fire spinning out over the field. It sailed in an arc out over the battlefield, starting to fall after it had gone a few dozen yards.

It hit without a sound and then exploded in a bright flash.

All I could hear were the screams of the camazotzi caught in the explosion.

Then, there was nothing but the rain.

Posted in Book 6, Chapter 19, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nineteen – 06

Posted on August 16, 2017 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

I took a pair of breaths and cleared my throat, drawing myself straighter. We needed to end this, somehow—and fast. I picked up my bow, then looked back over my shoulder toward the interior of the walls. Thordin was nowhere in sight, Sif vanished with him—likely seeing Jacqueline in the absence of J.T.’s ability to help. That was good—could be good, anyway, though I felt like we needed Thordin on the wall. He must have still had a grip on the storm, though, because it still raged, the winds growing colder and harder, blowing away from our walls rather than toward them. That helped, at least.

At least I’m telling myself that his doing that is helping. Damn it all.

Matt started climbing back up the wall toward me and I could see worry in his gaze. Cameron was headed up into the watchtower.

“Are we clear below?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady.

“Clear below,” Rory reported. “Guessing not on the other side?”

I shook my head. He gave a grim nod.

“I’m coming up, too,” he said, then headed for the section of the wall on the other side of the gates.

Next to me, Matt hauled himself up onto the top of the wall, casting a questioning look in my direction. “Let me guess, still shit out there.”

“Too much,” I said. “They haven’t stopped coming.”

“Have we figured out which one is leading them?”

“Fuck no,” I said, glancing back toward the field. My stomach twisted. There hadn’t been any indicator of which camazotzi was the one in charge of the rest. Perhaps they’d learned their lesson months ago, when we’d identified and eliminated one of their commanders at that point. The battle had turned into a mess for the camazotzi and we’d managed to scrape out another victory.

“Sounds like it’s time for big guns, then,” Rory said.

My gaze snapped toward him. He stood on the edge of the wall. His clothes were steaming. A curse dropped from my lips.

“Rory, what are you—”

“Time to burn them down.”

Posted in Book 6, Chapter 19, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nineteen – 05

Posted on August 14, 2017 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

I blinked. My eyes stung with sudden tears and my stomach lurched, badly enough that I hunched over, thinking I was about to be sick. Phelan’s grip shifted, his arm suddenly around me instead of just hanging on to my arm.

“She’s grown stronger,” I managed to say. Phelan stiffened and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hone my will even as I tried to dampen the guilt that welled up inside. I knew why he’d reacted that way. For an instant, I’d sounded like her, like Brighíd. It still caught him off-guard sometimes.

At least Seamus hadn’t been near enough to hear.

I reached up and squeezed Phelan’s hand, wincing. The pressure on my mind was intense and I could feel her grasping for my power, as if she was trying to tear it out by the roots.

She wants it for herself. It’s her way. It’s how she is.

I can’t let her win.

For a second time, I sharpened my will into a weapon and aimed its point directly at her, directly at the source. This time she was ready and something rose to meet me, an attempt to ward off the blow. The distraction was enough, though. Her assault faltered, only for a few seconds, as she moved to defend herself, and it was enough time for my personal wards to snap back up into place.

“We need to end this,” I said, my voice hoarse. “What are our options?”

“They keep coming,” Seamus said grimly. “Though I can see that Anhur and Menhit quit the field. They’re gone.”

“Then either the camazotzi aren’t fully under their control—or this wasn’t just them.” I sucked in a rasping breath. My throat still felt raw. “I’m not sure which is a worse situation to face.”

A thought crossed my mind, wondering if perhaps Cyhyraeth was somehow working with the pair. I couldn’t be certain—there was a lot I couldn’t be certain about, not now.

But later, absolutely. Later, I’ll figure this shit out. Maybe Hecate will know something.

I looked at Phelan. “Got anything in your bag of tricks?”

“I’m still not recovered from the last round,” he said.

I nodded slowly. “Then I guess we just rain arrows on them until they give up. Right?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Seamus said. “Not the best plan, but a plan nonetheless.”

His attention shifted back to the archers, then, and the field below. I swallowed bile.

It’s not, but right now, it’s the only one I’ve got.

Posted in Book 6, Chapter 19, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nineteen – 04

Posted on August 11, 2017 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is technically from Marin’s point of view, but the whole thing is a flashback to another life.]

It was like looking at a darker reflection of myself, like looking through a silver mirror covered in dark tarnish. The spear in her hands dripped the blood of something I didn’t have any desire to identify, her leathers black as the night to come. Tarnished silver trinkets were woven into hair an even darker red than my own and her pale green eyes had narrowed into thin crescents as she regarded me with suspicion—and hate.

                I supposed that I had earned both.

                She stared at me in silence, her knuckles white around the haft of her spear, held in front of her, parallel to the ground as she stared back at me.

                My voice came steadily. “This needs to end,” I said quietly. “You cannot stay here. This island isn’t big enough for the two of us.”

                “I have made this place my home the same as you,” she said, her chin lifting. “You and yours have never ceased to threaten me and yet I have persisted. I have remained. I and my army.”

                “Yes,” I said, planting the butt of my spear into the dirt next to my foot. “You and your army, sold to every threat this isle has ever known. I will not stand for it a moment longer. We will have peace on this isle no matter what the cost.”

                “You speak of this place as if it is your own land, as if the whole of the island is yours to command, to claim.” She shook her head slowly. “You know it is not, Chieftain. This place belongs to the people and you do not speak for all of them.”

                “I speak for enough of them,” I said, my voice growing quiet even as my stomach roiled. I had not wanted it to come to this. There had been so many chances granted, so many times when she could have turned from this course, when she could have stood with us instead of against us. “And as the Áes Dana move to depart from this sacred isle, it is up to those of us who bear their blood to protect it from those who would do her harm. I speak for the Imbolg, the Fianna, the Dáire. I speak for our allies and the people who have been scattered by the wars we have fought and the wars that you have helped perpetuate. I am Brighíd iníon Dúbhshláine, Chieftain of the Imbolg, Speaker for the Tribes of Eíre, and I tell you now that you are no longer welcome here. Leave, or face the consequences. We will give you two weeks to gather your army and depart these shores peacefully and you will face no reprisals from us if you do as we ask. If you do not take our offer, all will be forfeit.”

                Cyhyraeth stared at me for a few long moments. For a second, I dared to believe she might take my offer, at least for the sake of men and women who had flocked to her banner across the sea.

                Her chin lifted as she stared into my eyes and all of my hopes came crashing down, dashed like glass against stone.

                “No,” she said simply.

                A moment later, she charged.

Posted in Book 6, Chapter 19, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nineteen – 03

Posted on August 9, 2017 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

The distraction was all whatever had been attacking me needed.

Phantom claws dug into my flesh and my head rang like a bell, like I’d been knocked from the wall and banged it hard against the ground. My vision doubled but I could still see the field in front of me, so I knew that hadn’t happened.

“Marin?”

Phelan’s voice sounded like it was echoing through a tunnel before it ever reached me—and a long tunnel, at that. My breath came shallowly and I couldn’t find voice enough to answer him. His fingers suddenly closed around my arm and the sudden attack stalled. I sucked in two breaths even as he stiffened beside me, his gaze jerking away from me and focusing on something I couldn’t see out on the field, out in the storm.

“Déithe agus arrachtaigh. Seamus!”

My head was still ringing, but at least I could breathe again. My bow slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers, clattering against the stones of the wall. I was shaking.

“What’s happening?” I managed to whisper. “Who’s doing this?”

“Fight back, Marin,” Phelan said, his fingers digging into my flesh. “Fight back, dammit.”

“It’s not Thesan.” I’d have recognized her—at least I thought that I would. Red nibbled at the edges of my vision. I sucked in another breath. Phelan wrapped both arms around me and hung on. Comforting warmth swept through me and for a second, I fought against it, thinking it was a new attack.

“Stop,” he whispered. “That’s me. Fight her.”

“Who is it?” I asked again.

“Cyhyraeth,” he breathed, the name so quiet I could barely hear it over the sound of my heart in my ears and the storm.

“What?”

“Cyhyraeth,” he repeated. “Come to claim the vengeance she swore a thousand and a thousand yesterdays ago on the soul that once belonged to Brighíd of the Imbolg, who drove her from the shores of Eire when the world was young.”

Posted in Book 6, Chapter 19, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nineteen – 02

Posted on August 7, 2017 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

It felt like claws were digging into my flesh, like a hand was wrapping around my throat and squeezing. Breathing became hard. I struggled against it even as my vision continued to dim, as whatever was undermining the wards pressed hard against my shields, inside them and at the same time not.

One of my hands tightened around the haft of my bow, the fingertips of the other pressing hard against the concrete and brick of the wall. The tactile contact helped ground me, helped me focus. I could stay grounded—and draw power from the world itself, if I had to.

Whatever or whoever you are, you’re fucking around with the wrong person. This doesn’t end well for you, not today.

I sharpened my will into a blade and stabbed it at whatever was attacking me, feeling the point slam home into something.

In the distance, I heard a shriek of pain and the pressure began to fade. I hadn’t recognized the force attacking, but there was at least a faint and passing familiarity to it.

A mystery for another time.

My eyes snapped open as a loud crack of thunder shook the walls. Somewhere nearby, a camazotzi screamed.

My fellow archers loosed another volley. The wind picked up. The rain lashed at all of us, feeling like tiny, ice-cold needles on the wind.

“Get them inside!” Seamus shouted. He wasn’t looking out over the field. He was looking down.

The gates were open. Sif was still motionless in Thordin’s arms. My stomach flipped over on itself.

“We need J.T.,” Matt barked as he turned to help bar the gates again.

“Can’t do it,” J.T. shouted from behind and above me. He was still in the watchtower. “A little busy up here.”

My stomach dropped. Paul seemed okay, which could only mean—

Thom.

Posted in Book 6, Chapter 19, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Nineteen – 01

Posted on August 4, 2017 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Marin’s point of view.]

A camazotzi screamed as it slammed into the wards, energy sheeting across them in a blast of light. I felt light-headed even as I drew and fired another shot far out over the field, skewering a camazotzi in midair as it began a dive toward Thordin, my brother, and Cameron. Through the driving rain, I could see Sif hanging limp in Thordin’s arms. The fact that she’d remained motionless in all the time I’d been watching their approach had left me with a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I didn’t want to consider the possibility that we’d lose her somehow.

“Why haven’t they stopped coming?” Kellin shouted from down the wall.

I shook my head, not sure if she’d see. At the end of the day, her guess was as good as mine. “Don’t care! We just need to turn them back. The wards can’t take much more pounding before they buckle!”

“Those bastards keep suicide bombing them,” Phelan shouted over the sound of the wind as it picked up, chilling me to the bone as much as his words. “I need Matt back up here to help me keep them anchored. They’re starting to weaken.”

I swore under my breath, dropping the arrow I was about to fire. I pressed my palm hard against the stone of the wall, my senses traveling down, down into the wall, down to the earth below them, to the thick skein of copper buried beneath their foundations. I could feel the anchors of the wards, buried deep as we were building the walls all those months ago.

They were much weaker than they should have been, as if something had been disrupting them at the roots.

“Something’s wrong!” I shouted to Phelan. “Can you sense it?”

“Sense what? I’m a little busy right now!”

“Get the gates open,” Seamus interjected. “Quick, before they’re on top of us. All archers, fire!”

Darkness nibbled at the edges of my vision. Something was trying to steal my breath.

A curse dropped from my lips and I forced it back, my personal shields snapping into place.

Whatever was attacking our wards had decided I was prey, too.

Posted in Book 6, Chapter 19, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Eighteen – 05

Posted on August 2, 2017 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from J.T.’s point of view.]

Another curse dropped from J.T.’s lips. He twisted toward Paul, his eyes narrowing. What the hell is going sideways now?

“Talk to me, Paul.”

“That is a shit-ton of lightning,” Paul said. J.T. nearly swore again.

That isn’t helpful, Paul. “Dammit, Paul.”

“J.T., I don’t know what’s going on out there, okay?” Paul snapped. “I don’t know anything more than you do. I can just tell you what I see and right now it’s a fuck-ton of lightning.”

J.T. glanced down at Thom, still unconscious, showing no signs of waking. He pressed his hand against his friend’s forehead, finding it hot—hotter than it should be.

When it rains, it pours.

A crack of thunder that shook the watchtower punctuated the thought and a chill shot down J.T.’s spine. “What happened before the lightning?”

“I didn’t see. I was tracking a camazotzi.”

“Are they pulling back?”

Paul’s brows knit. “Hard to tell. There’s still a lot of them in the air and on the ground but the light-show’s taking them out and so are the archers.”

Seamus was still ordering the archers to maintain fire; J.T. could hear him, though it was growing harder and harder as the storm began to strengthen, the rain coming harder. The air had turned cold with the storm, far colder than it should have been on a summer day. J.T. knew it wasn’t a good sign, but he had to trust that they were in control—and if they weren’t, that they’d still find a way to squeak out of this alive anyway.

Marin shouted something over the sound of the thunder and rain, but the words were lost as the wind picked up, starting to howl. Phelan shouted back. J.T.’s stomach dropped. Even if he didn’t hear the words, he heard the tone.

We’re screwed.

Posted in Book 6, Chapter 18, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Eighteen – 04

Posted on July 31, 2017 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from J.T.’s point of view.]

“Dammit,” J.T. breathed the word, staring for a few seconds at the blood that soaked through Thom’s shirt, blood that obscured the wounds beneath. Camazotzi wounds might not fester the same way that dirae ones did, but this, he knew, would be bad enough—especially given Thom’s reaction to them.

Either something’s changed or—

He stopped the thought dead. He had work to do and he’d figure out what had changed—because something certainly had—later.

Head in the game.

One hand dove into his bag of medical gear, already digging out antiseptic and gauze as he shifted his position, using one arm to stretch Thom out on the floor of the watchtower. He’d need help getting his friend down from here if he didn’t wake up before it was time to move him—and given the color of Thom’s face, J.T. didn’t think that was very likely.

“He okay?” Paul asked, standing at the broken rail, shotgun leveled as he scanned for any new threats. With the dome of the wards solidly in place now, J.T. didn’t expect that anything new would get inside, but it paid to be cautious.

“Not yet,” J.T. said. “How many?”

“One left inside. Hundreds outside the walls.”

J.T. grunted, trying to clean the blood from Thom’s shoulders so he could get a better look at the gouges the camazotzi had left behind. “Tide turning?”

Paul hesitated before answering, long enough that J.T.’s hackles began to rise, though he didn’t dare look away from his work. The gouges were deep; he’d need to stitch them. He jammed some gauze against Thom’s wounds and started winding some bandages around them to at least temporarily staunch the bleeding.

“Paul.”

“I don’t know,” Paul said, his voice abruptly strained. “I don’t know, Jay. Something just happened out there.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Paul said, his voice still strange and strained all at once. “I really don’t know.”

Posted in Book 6, Chapter 18, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Eighteen – 03

Posted on July 28, 2017 by Erin M. Klitzke

[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]

Pain screamed through his limbs, nearly enough to take his breath away. Chills wracked him as Thom grit his teeth, watching as Paul turned away, grateful there had been no hesitation in following orders. Breath burned in his lungs as he got one leg beneath him, one arm helping push himself upright. The other arm was useless; his shoulder dislocated or worse.

Not good.

He took a step and nearly went down again, his left knee refusing to support his weight. Really not good.

Below, he could see Rory burning the body of the camazotzi that had nearly killed him, then watched his friend turn to face another swooping from overhead, trying to catch Rory off-guard as its fellow had caught Thom. Rory threw up a hand alight with barely dampened flame and thrust it toward the creature’s chest. Thom winced at the camazotzi’s shriek and the smell of charred flesh.

Effective, though. Damned effective.

“Thom!”

He flinched at the sound of J.T.’s voice, at the urgency interlaced with worry that he heard in it. “Up here,” he called, still on one knee, not quite daring to try standing again as waves of pain and hot and cold crashed through him. “In the tower.”

J.T. dropped from the wall with a far greater nimble grace than one would expect from a man of his size and build. He dashed across the gap between the wall and the watchtower, dodging one of the last camazotzi on the ground and leaving it to Rory to dispatch. Thom couldn’t suppress the curse that dropped from his lips. “Fuck-all, Jay, I’m fine. They need you on the wall.”

“They’re fine on the wall,” J.T. snapped, scrambling up the ladder, his words punctuated by Seamus’s order to the arches to loose another volley. “What the hell was that?”

“I got sloppy,” Thom said as J.T. reached his side. “Thing shouldn’t have gotten claws on me.”

“You’re bleeding,” J.T. said, his tone grim.

“That explains the dizziness.” Darkness was nibbling at the edges of his vision and he was hot despite the cold rain.

Going into shock, maybe?

“Dammit, Thom.”

It had gotten so cold. Thom’s eyes slid shut. He could feel the wounds now, in his shoulders, burning. “Get back to the wall,” he mumbled. “Take care of Marin.”

Thom didn’t hear whatever denial J.T. mustered. He slumped bonelessly into his friend’s waiting arms with his wife’s name still on his lips, unconscious before another word was spoken.

 

Posted in Book 6, Chapter 18, Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment