Wilde's Meadow (Darkness Falls #3) (27 page)

I nod, holding back the sobs attempting to take control of me. “
I’m pregnant, Brit
.
And I don’t think we’re all going to make it through this. Either this child will never be born, or he’ll never know his father.
”

Brit’s face hardens, giving her an appearance of a stone-cold statue. She turns and marches right up to Dughbal, standing closer than I’d dare put myself to him. “You’re going to die. You might kill me and everyone else, but Kate will put an end to you. Kill me here. Now. Get it over with. It will only fuel her fire, her power.”

“
What
? Brit, no!”

My legs unfreeze, and I run to her. I grab her shoulders to pull her back, but she jerks free of my grasp then raises her arms over her head, clasping her right hand around her left wrist.

“You know you want to take my life. Do it!
Now
!”

Dughbal points his index finger at her, giggling … like a child. “A ghlacadh a.”

I charge forward, but the bats hold me back with their sticky hands, their claws digging into me, preventing me from stopping this madness, preventing me from saving my sister. “
No
!”

Brit’s body goes rigid, and the daemons release me just in time to slip my arms under hers, then we drop to the ground. Orange firelight flickers in her watering eyes.

Steady tears flow, blinding me to anything but my sister’s blood caked lips.

“W-why did you tempt him?” I ask, trembles rolling through my chest.

She smiles, revealing a mouth full of red teeth. “Note in my pocket … mo shaol an pháiste,” Brit whispers.

“What does that—?”

“Kill him, Kate. Whatever you do, kill him.” Her eyes roll back in her head, leaving only the white for me to see.

Two thin currents of golden light rise from her open mouth, spiraling in front of my face, then one of them darts behind me. I look over my shoulder. The light surrounds Arland. He drives his sword through the rib cage of a tairb, seemingly unaware of the magic encircling him. His left arm glows, revealing the golden braids we received when my mother cast her Binding spell.

“
Ow
!” I look down at my right hand; it’s burning with the same braids.

Did she protect us
?

“I love you, Brit,” I say, lightly brushing my palm over her eyelids, searching my thoughts once more for my sister, for the connection we share, but she’s gone.

Gone
.

My
sister
is dead, because of
him
, because of a selfish god, a selfish, bored god.

I glance at Dughbal and see a smile on the face of the boy I’ve known my whole life. “You did this.”

He smiles. “I did, and I have to admit, I much prefer those who fight … people like you who actually believe you make a difference.”

I don’t care if Brad’s soul is trapped in there. I don’t care if killing him hurts. Griandor promised Brad new life. That’s something my sister will never have again. Dughbal must die, no matter what it costs me. Fire rages in my core, begging me to release it, and I see no reason to hold old magic back. Bats or no bats, I will find a way to kill them all. My body burns bright and hot, evaporating the thin veil of Darkness encompassing me. I grab my sword from the grass and storm toward Dughbal.

“You can go now, boys. I want to see what Katriona has to offer.” He waves off the bats, then returns his attention to me. “How would you like to do this? Swords or magic?”

Remember
. Griandor speaks to me, infuriating me even further. He should kill his brother himself, not put innocents up against a god. This war is not mine to bear. My sister’s life shouldn’t have ended here in this burning field.

I am sorry.
His voice tingles my skin, caressing me, adding to my fury.

I turn my face toward the Heavens. “Sorry doesn’t make up for
this
!”

Dughbal snorts, bringing my gaze back to him.

I’m going to kill him.

Now
.

“Both,” I say, willing the flames onto the iron blade. Traveling down my arm, old magic covers my sword, rippling and stretching out further and further, pulsing with each rapid beat of my heart.

Dughbal nods and snaps his fingers. A sword rivaling mine in length appears in his hands, burning in black fire. “Give it your best go.”

Screaming, I run for him, sword drawn in front of me. I stop my advance, swing with all my effort and strike his blade. Forcing all my thoughts onto Brit, I allow her loss to empower me. I press harder against the hilt until our weapons slide off each other, metal zinging off metal.

Dughbal yawns. “My turn.” He points his finger toward the others, Darkness racing from him.

Flanna screams, shrill and terrifying. “Kill him, Kate. Kill him fast.”

“Bhru,” I shout, sending a blue flame from my chest, something Arland taught me a long time ago.

Dughbal stumbles back, caught off guard by my sudden burst of magic. “Oh, I cannot wait to possess your powers.”

Trap him, hold him down, immobilize him
.
This will end
now
.

Sprites rise from the earth, peel themselves from trees, descend from the sky and swirl around the dark god. They transform from their representations of nature, covering him in blue and gold fire.

Dughbal’s skin bubbles and turns a bright shade of pink. “You only waste time. I will always heal.” He laughs and points another finger toward the others. “I am so glad you chose swords
and
magic.”

A howl and shriek mixed with a muffled cry of a woman tear through my concentration.

My heart skids to a halt. “
Flanna
… .”

“
No
,” Arland shouts. “Perth, get on the other side and stab that coscartha.”

“Tarik, the Leaders fall,” Huffie yells above the noise. “You kill the gray ones, and we kill the bull-creatures.”

“We need more Bheagans in the middle,” Arland commands.

Dughbal shakes his head. “Oh, this will not do. Your lover must be killed.”

Not Arland
. He will not die, too. I didn’t choose just magic; I chose swords
and
magic. I changed the visions … I had to have changed something, didn’t I? Brit died exactly how I saw.

Oh God. Protect Arland. Don’t let him die.

I swing my sword with both hands, landing a blow against Dughbal’s head, but not stopping him, not even impacting his intense focus on the scene behind me.

“
Kill Dughbal, Kate. You cannot protect me. Fight! No matter what, I love you. I will always love you.”

“You will
not
die,”
I think, tossing my sword and raising my arms above my head.
Use me, Griandor; send your powers through me and drive through Dughbal with
your
fire.

Lightning strikes a tree behind the god, making him jump. The Darkness in the sky above me parts, shining a beam of bright, white light down upon my head. The power flows into my fingers, radiating heat into my arms, into my shoulders, warming my scalp and filling me with confidence—

“Your confidence might be shaken by what goes on behind you,” Dughbal says, a wry smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

The power from above evaporates, and I turn around and see Arland stab his sword into the spine of a hound hovering over Flanna’s lifeless body.

No
… . I ball my fists and prepare to punch Dughbal, to kick him, to run him over any way I can.

“Have I mentioned what a wonderful choice magic was?” Dughbal’s sinister voice is right next to my ear again. He reaches his hand in front of me. “Mharúgrá.”

Black fog stretches from him and engulfs Arland’s body, making my love invisible against the night.

“
No, no, no
… .”

He cries out, muffled but gut-wrenching.

Chest aching, I run toward him. This is almost exactly what I saw in my vision. How can this be? “Save him. Save him and kill Dughball. End this
now
. Please.
Please
. He can’t die.”

Light transfers from me, spiraling around the billowing fog. The closer the magic gets, the dimmer it becomes.

Drive the sword through his chest as you do his daemons
. Griandor’s words replay themselves in my mind. I think of the sword I just tossed aside and stop halfway between Dughbal and the empty space where Arland stood only moments ago.

I have to kill the god.

It’s the only way.

“Shall I stop using magic?”

Marching toward him, I pick up my claymore, draw it back, and think of Arland’s love, of my sister’s smile, of Flanna’s sarcasm, then focus all my pain and anger into my heart. This will not continue. I will not lose anyone else. Not that there’s much of anyone left to lose.

Dughbal holds his arms out to the side and tips his head back. “Go ahead, child, strike me with your sword. I have tried to explain to you that you cannot kill me, but if you wish to try … .”

It
can
be this easy.

I sprint to him then ram the blade straight through his sternum. Thick, black fluid oozes from his wound.

He looks down at himself, stumbling back a bit, his forehead creasing with confusion, the white around his black pupils more prominent than normal. Dughbal’s weapon falls to the ground with a thud. Using two hands, he pulls my sword from his chest, then drops it. The metal clanks off his blade, and the wicked god drops to his knees. “I do not understand.”

Picking up my claymore, I lift it over my head, then drive it into his chest again, straining every muscle I have. “Your father took away your immortality a long time ago. You can be killed, and you just let me.”

I twist the hilt, ensuring his death is painful, making his bones snap and crack under the pressure of my weapon.

He pulls his hand away and stares at it, eyes widening. “Kate?”

“If you can feel this, I’m sorry, Brad.” I kick his chest, and he lands on his back. Over and over I remove the sword, plunge it into him, and watch as more of his evil seeps along his sides and onto the earth.

Red sprites hover nearby, not fighting, not helping, not doing anything other than watching me punish Dughbal, casting a horrific glow on everything around us. I wonder if they were somehow a part of him, like the yellow light belongs to Gramhara and the blue to Griandor.

Howls, screeches, and shrieks rise into the night, tearing my attention away from the colors. Dughbal’s minions just realized their leader is dead, and they sound devastated. Serves them right.

Carry my message to Willow Falls, to Wickward, to any location where a Draíochtan resides,
tell the Morans, sing it to the Mharans, deliver the news to the Bheagans: Dughbal is dead, but his daemons live. Fight, and fight hard.

Sprites race into the field and drive through daemons, aiding overwhelmed soldiers who are barely hanging on. A few of the beings remain floating by me, hanging their heads full of golden curls, whispering words too faint for my ears to understand. I ignore whatever the beings are trying to say and stare at Brad—at Dughbal—expecting some miracle to occur. Would Griandor give my friend his life back right now? Will Brad remember what happened? Will he hate me and want to go right back home, or will he cry with me over Brit?

Brit
… I look at my sister lying on the ground with a field of blazing wheat grass behind her, then back at Brad.

When
will
the sun god make good on his promise?

Shoulders slumping, I leave my sword in Dughbal’s chest, go to my sister, then kneel beside her. She’s pale, but there’s no fear in her face, no terror. Her eyes are closed, and the corners of her mouth are turned up into a faint smile. She looks like a beautiful, sleeping woman. I carefully lift her leather armor and reach inside her pocket. Plastic crinkles under my touch. I pull out the sandwich bag and find it contains a piece of folded paper.

Squeezing it in my grip, my body shakes. I lie on the ground and rest my head on Brit’s chest. The war around me … unimportant. Tears fall from my eyes, dripping down the length of my nose, onto her armor, and the muscles in my throat constrict. “Why, Brit? Why’d you have to die? Why’d you let him kill you? You stupid girl. Don’t you know I love you? I need you! Who am I supposed to talk to? Who am I supposed to laugh with? You left me alone! Flanna is dead and Arland is … .” I can’t say ‘too’. I refuse to believe he’s gone, dead, or left me alone like everyone else I love.

A hand clamps my shoulder, causing me to burst into blue flames and jump to my feet. I turn around and see Perth, sword drawn.

I drop the mysterious paper.

He lowers his weapon and hangs his head. “I am so—”

“Don’t be sorry for me, Perth. Whatever you do, don’t say sorry.” I pick up the paper, then shove it into my armor pocket.

“We need to go,” Perth says, offering me his hand.

“What are we going to do with their bodies? They deserve funerals.” I spare a glance toward where I last saw Flanna; she’s lying just as still and peaceful as Brit, but a large chunk of armor and flesh is missing from her hip. Cadman, Huffie, Tarik, and Humu rush around the field, jumping over the dead, battling the remaining daemons.

Lip trembling and knees ready to give out, I look back at Perth. “And A-Arland … ?”

Perth wraps his arms around me, drawing me close, making me miss Arland and his warm, calming presence. “He is gone, Katriona. We will have to send someone to collect Flanna and Brit—and all the others—when it is safe, but for now, you are in no condition to stay here and fight.”

“
No.
Please, Perth, please tell me this is just a dream. Please … . He didn’t die. He just disappeared. We can save him. He might still be here. Please … ?” My vision clouds, and all I see is that veil of Darkness surrounding him, blotting out all the magic I sent his way.

“I am sorry, Katriona,” Perth whispers.

Sorry? He’s sorry? I don’t know where my stepdad or Mr. Tanner are, and I just lost everything: my best friend, my sister, my Arland.