Behind her, the men’s voices rose in startled anger. They shouted orders but were slow to follow them. Perhaps they didn’t want to chase down a mere woman, as the tanner had put it. Perhaps a few remembered the last time they tried to kill her.
She’d give them another memory if they came too close. By Danú, she would give them a memory that would sear their soul and keep them from ever getting a good night’s rest again.
Her anger grew as she climbed the hill, running through the darkness along the glittering path. Shouts behind her drifted to her hearing as she passed the black sentinel stones. Adhna panted behind her and they almost reached the sanctuary of the circle when their hunters emerged from the forest.
One reached out and grabbed her clothing, ripping a great tear in it. She jerked away from him, but another grabbed at Adhna. This one held tight and he brought his torch down, evidently intending to burn the Fae man right there. She screeched and poked toward Adhna’s attacker with her pitchfork and he backed off, but not before Adhna’s shoulder got scorched.
They fanned out around their prey, encircling both with feral glee in their eyes. The flickering torchlight reminded Clíodhna of her powers. She threw her head back in a mighty laugh and got the satisfaction of seeing Pátraic’s own expression of grim satisfaction slip a notch.
Adhna elbowed her and slipped her something. She took it and glanced down at the bronze leaf-shaped knife. Ancient power oozed from it and she smiled.
While raising her arms with her knife in one hand and her pitchfork in the other, she called the storm.
At least, she tried to call the storm. Her magic had been much diminished by the earlier ceremony, and only a faint breeze answered her call. Frustrated, she screamed into the night. Their attackers grew closer, taking cautious steps into the stone circle. Pátraic chanted in his harsh language as the men called out insults and names.
“Fae-lover! You sleep with the devil every night!”
“Go away, back to hell, wanton of the night!”
She growled at them and brandished her weapons, making one or two step back, but most of them wouldn’t be intimidated by a woman, no matter how well armed. Sweat dripped into her eyes and her mouth and she spat out the salty liquid.
After taking the time to gather the power from the land and funneling it into the sky like a fountain, she shouted in sheer jubilation as it rushed through her and into the roiling storm clouds.
Wind cut through the stone circle, making the torches gutter. Each man stopped and glanced up in apprehension as the thunder boomed over the hill. A few stepped back, but their fellows pulled them back into the circle.
Adhna chanted under his breath behind her. She recognized the words, similar to those Grimnaugh had used to rip a hole between the mortal realm and Faerie. She needed to give him time to complete his spell.
Instead of feeding her storm, she sent the next wave of power out to the Fae, hoping they’d heed her call.
The wind whistled by the stones and cold needles of rain stung their faces as the men lost their fear and stepped closer again.
A few of the wild Fae popped up behind the mob’s heads, skulking just out of reach. Not the elegant river Fae or ethereal creatures of the wind. Instead, she spied the grotesquely shaped earth and rock Fae, gnarled and dark as a mossy stone.
One large Fae flashed Clíodhna a wicked grin and then gave the tanner’s cloak a firm tug. The tanner whirled around, his torch hitting the face of the man crowded behind him. That man shoved the tanner. “What are you playing at, man? Stop messing around.”
As the Fae deviled the attackers, Clíodhna had time to raise her power again. This time she funneled it into three lightning strikes around her in the center of the circle, between her and the mob. This drove them back several steps, despite their determination.
Pátraic shouted from relative safety beyond the stones, his crozier held high. “Don’t let her sorcery drive you back, fools! She commands demons to distract you! Kill the demons and you can then kill her!”
The men turned to the wild Fae, their torches looming even in the driving rain. The tanner shoved his torch into a Fae’s face, making the creature screech in anguish. Another man did the same, and soon, the Fae still able to move fled the stone circle. At least seven lay in scorched piles of death, though.
A glowing doorway appeared as Adhna cut through the veil. He grabbed her hand. “Now! We must go now!”
“But what of the wild Fae! Some are still alive. We must fetch them.”
“We can’t. They came to your call, as they must. You are their Queen. They sacrificed themselves with willing hearts. We must leave!”
With one more glance of pity for the crumpled bodies of the Fae and one more stare of hatred toward Pátraic and his brutes, she stepped through the rip in the veil.
* * *
Clíodhna had expected to come to a place she recognized. Perhaps near her palace, or Adhna’s cozy roundhouse. Instead, they arrived in the middle of a horrible blight.
Black, noxious goo covered what might have been healthy trees, once. Though the hills rolled in a pleasant undulation, the bracken and
