He bent at the waist. “Of course, my Queen.” As he rode off toward the humans, she hoped he would reach them before they were all slaughtered by either her troops or the enemy.
She turned her attention back to the newcomers. Bodach’s troops inched toward the small knot of humans. The mists still surrounded them, though it began thinning in places. Men, women, even a few children stood amongst the humans.
Her mounted troops hadn’t yet reached them, but more people now emerged from the mists. These, however, strode forward with more purpose and confidence. They wore monk’s robes, and when she squinted, she thought she recognized Abbot Pátraic.
“Son of a diseased donkey. What does he think he can do?”
No one answered her. Gabha spoke to his sub-chiefs while Grimnaugh had gone off to help the humans. She watched as Pátraic raised his crossed pieces of wood and moved his mouth. He must be chanting his God’s words, trying to fend off the evil of the Fae army. Despite his danger, she chuckled at his attempts. If his God protected them, that would be grand, but she didn’t want to count on such help in Faerie. He must hold little to no power here.
When Grimnaugh and his contingent reached the first humans, an argument ensued. Some humans flocked to the frog-like Fae, pawing at him like beggars, while others snatched up the weapons the soldiers offered and fought against Bodach’s troops. Both Grian’s and Clíodhna’s troops formed a wedge to protect the interlopers.
Despite this protection, Pátraic strode through both lines to confront Bodach’s troops. He held his cross up high and chanted, his monks following him with their heads held high. A few glanced from side to side at the Fae armies surrounding them with apprehension, but they still followed their Abbot. Clíodhna had to give it to him—he showed little fear or hesitancy. At least he believed in his ideals, no matter how much he twisted them to his own purposes.
A group of the humans with weapons had joined her forces, and a smaller group had joined Grian’s forces. More huddled in fear, cowering and covering their heads from the din of battle surrounding them, mostly women and children. Not all the women huddled afraid, though. Several grabbed the offered bronze swords and joined in with battle cries worthy of the Morrigan. Clíodhna smiled at their bravery.
The nearest of Bodach’s Fae to the humans were a group of swamp Fae and reptilian creatures not unlike Grimnaugh. They didn’t have as human a form, but still walked on two legs like her friend. One jumped high and landed amidst the frightened humans, making them scatter with screams.
A young girl, suddenly alone, wailed in terror as the creature grabbed her hair and lifted her high. She swung like a toy as his mouth came closer to her face.
A monk with a fringe of dark curls around his bald head whirled around and smacked the Fae on the back of the head with a wooden club. The Fae dropped his prey and turned to face this new threat, his mouth slavering. The monk glanced to the girl, who ran away into the arms of a waiting man. Once she fled, the monk smashed what passed for the Fae’s nose.
Clíodhna lost sight of the two combatants as more mist swirled to obscure her view. She spied Grimnaugh and two other Fae. She felt more than saw the magic they worked. A rip between the worlds, sturdier than the accidental one the humans slipped through.
One by one, they led the frightened humans back through to their own realm. Some of those fighting dropped their swords to join them. Others saw but remained fighting. A few never even noticed the escape.
She searched for her War Chief, speaking with two of his sub-chiefs. “Gabha!”
He hurried to her side after dismissing them. “Yes, my Queen?”
“How goes the battle? I need updates.”
“We are doing well. Bodach has held firm in many areas, but three of our units have penetrated to his stronghold. One has reported he’s inside and almost to the prison.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly? I couldn’t tell from here. You have excellent intelligence.”
Gabha bowed low. “It’s what I do, my Queen. Have you discovered the source of the unexpected civilians below?”
She turned to watch the stragglers disappear. The monks still fought, with Pátraic at their head. She wished the odious priest would leave with the rest of his people. “They are from a village in the mortal world.”
“Do you know them?”
“I do.” The curly-haired monk, the one who saved the little girl, glanced up at her, and her heart skipped. Odhrán! Even at this distance, she recognized her one-time lover. She gasped and clasped her hands. “Gabha, I need to go down there. Now!”
“What? Your Grace, that is most unsafe! I urge you to reconsider.”
She spun to glare at him. “Are you questioning my orders, War Chief?”
He took a few steps back. “No, no, of course not, my Queen! As you command.” Mounting his horse, he waited until she did the same and, with a small guard surrounding them, they climbed down the hill. Toward Odhrán.
With each step, she got closer to him. Around her, the clash of blades faded into a buzz of white noise, of no more concern to her than bees.
When she came within shouting distance of the monks, a few of them glanced back to this new threat. One, the curly-haired man, let his gaze linger before he turned back to chant with his Abbot.
She must make sure she didn’t imagine him. “Odhrán!”
He turned again, and his blue eyes and dimple answered her heart.
With a final glance toward his
