Destined

easy; it was almost impossible to miss the arcs of blood being cast off his magical weapon with every swing. He looked less like a swordsman and more like a farmer at spring harvest, reaping a never-ending crop of howling monsters. He was truly untouchable. It didn’t matter if he was shifting directions or actually aiming for a troll, every movement of the sword brought down bodies.

Occasionally, Tamani would emerge from the fray and shout an order at someone, but even dressed in her dad’s shirt Laurel had a hard time following him as he blended in with the other sentries, all swinging their weapons, watching for each other, and fighting to keep the trolls at bay.

When they had first entered the Garden, Laurel thought there was no way this simple fighting force could beat the battle-crazed hordes pouring from the gate. But now — with the help of Jamison and Excalibur — the faeries were slowly, slowly, driving the trolls back through the gate.

They were winning.

Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the battle for the gate was over. The shouts of the sentries were deafening as they closed ranks on a handful of remaining trolls. As the final troll fell, everyone’s eyes went to the gate.

But nothing else came through.

Chapter 11

After the rage of battle, the quiet was deafening. Laurel’s ears adjusted gradually, and soon she could hear groans and murmurs of pain from the wounded faeries and the buzz of the sentries on the walls as they spread the news to those who couldn’t see for themselves.

Tamani was favouring one of his shoulders and his eyes were wary as he and David approached Jamison’s circle of Am Fear-faire.

“Did we win?” Chelsea whispered. “Can Jamison close the gate?”

Tamani immediately shook his head.

“It’s not over,” he said softly. “If it was, my sentries would have come through to tell us.” He gritted his teeth. “Klea and Yuki are still on the other side.”

“Nevertheless,” Jamison said, his gesture taking Tamani and David in together, “if we do not take the battle to them, they are sure to bring it back to us eventually.”

“We have a decent force assembled here. I’ll lead them through,” Tamani said.

“Let me,” David said softly, raising the sword.

Tamani hesitated. Laurel could see the war between pride and good sense raging in his eyes. But caution won out; Tamani nodded and began shouting orders to the assembled sentries, who again shouldered their weapons and began to align into formations.

But Laurel’s eyes were on the gate. She could see the California redwoods through the gateway, the ones that ringed the clearing — which looked empty. Where were the sentries? Or the rest of the trolls? She thought she caught a flash of black leather, but convinced herself she was jumping at shadows.

Then something small and yellow came rolling through the gate.

It was immediately swallowed by the earth — Jamison’s doing, Laurel had no doubt — even as several more matching canisters came hissing through the gateway, billowing clouds of sickly green gas that rose and expanded at an unbelievable rate.

Laurel managed to suck in a breath just before the smoke enveloped her. More canisters came streaming through, and Laurel blinked and squinted against the murk. She watched in horror as Jamison staggered, then collapsed onto the emerald grass alongside his Am Fear-faire. Those sentries still standing watched the Winter faerie fall, then turned in panic to flee the encroaching fog. But it was spreading faster than they could run. Klea’s special recipe, no doubt.

Fighting the flow of retreating sentries, Laurel spun, trying to find her friends. She caught sight of David, who was standing like a stone in the middle of a raging river of faeries; Excalibur was in his hand and he was staring at it as if to ask, What am I supposed to do now? At the rate the gas was spreading, he had little choice but to run with them. Even with Excalibur, surely he still had to breathe.

It took Laurel only a moment to realise she could save him.

The same way she’d saved him once before.

Laurel rushed to David, grabbing for the front of his blood-soaked shirt. Her hand slipped away, as though she’d grabbed at a ghost; too late, she remembered that as long as he was holding Excalibur, she couldn’t touch him. She felt herself being pushed away by the panicked throng and resisted the urge to cry out.

And then his hand was on her wrist, and he was pulling her to him. His eyes were hard and his grip on her arm was tight as he placed one hand on the side of her neck, the way he used to do. She could feel his heart racing in his chest as she brought her face close, then pressed her mouth to his.

Laurel heard a weird sound and opened her eyes to see Chelsea just a few feet away, her hand pressed over her mouth, watching them. Behind Chelsea, Tamani had paused in his task of dragging Jamison’s unconscious form to stare at them in confusion.

Laurel sucked in a breath and peered around David, catching their eyes. “Breathe!” she commanded, making sure she didn’t let any of the misty air enter her mouth.

Realisation sparked in Chelsea’s eyes and she spun to Tamani with a smirk. She took a firm grip on his ears and pressed her lips against his.

And there they stood, four figures abandoned by the living, surrounded by the dead, clinging to one another. From their experience at the bottom of the Chetco, Laurel and David knew that they could share breaths for a long time. If they moved carefully, they could probably escape the smoke no matter how far it had spread. And David could still carry the sword between breaths.

But what will we do without Jamison?

Laurel pulled away from David and knelt by Jamison’s side. She put both hands on his chest and — to her surprise — they moved up as the old faerie breathed. Laurel had almost convinced herself it was wishful thinking when he did it again.

Jamison was alive!

Laurel turned and grasped at Tamani’s arm. She took his hand and placed it on Jamison’s chest, her eyes fixed meaningfully on his. Tamani’s shoulders slumped in what must have been relief as he understood.

That meant that the gas wasn’t immediately deadly, and that most of the faeries around them were still alive — but for how much longer?

The sound of footsteps swishing through the thick grass indicated they didn’t have much time. Laurel paused, peering through the mist. She could only make out shadows, but the hulking forms that were clearly not faeries were all the confirmation Laurel needed. The assault was about to begin again. Whatever this sleeping gas was, it was only intended to give the trolls back the upper hand.

After a quick pantomimed request for Chelsea’s assistance, Tamani pulled Jamison onto his back and they began dragging him toward the wooden gates at the front of the Garden. As they approached the wall, the smoke thinned, and when they emerged through the heavy wooden entrance, it was into clear, breathable air.

“Aim!” The call was quiet — the faeries had discovered the trolls and were hoping to catch them off guard.

With his very first breath, Tamani called, “No arrows!”

The sentry who was giving orders to the archers atop the garden wall looked down from the battlements. “We can’t fight them in there! We can’t even see them. They’ll breach the walls for sure this time. All we can do is rain arrows from above as fast as we can.”

“It’s sleeping gas,” Tamani retorted. “Everyone who took a breath of that stuff is helpless but alive; if you fire now — especially blindly — you’ll kill as many faeries as trolls. We need to fall back. Take up a more defensible position.”

The sentry commander closed her eyes for a moment, her mouth a thin line. “We’ll not abandon our post,” she said. “I’ll figure something out.” She scurried to the nearest archer, clearly moving on to some kind of backup plan.