< Fíadan >

Day 11 of Midwinter, Sunrise

Caisleán Saighead, Gorias

Annwn

The morning sunbeams fell between the supports and structures of the gate passage and warmed my skin. The gentle sensation was not lost on me, even as I was bombarded with other sensory information.

My body hurt all over, as I had become accustomed to over the years. I was bleeding from multiple wounds, and I was sure my right shoulder was out of place.

I studied the large men and women around me, dodging blade after blade. I knew firsthand, what would happen if the larger Fomorian warriors hooked someone with one of their spear-tipped swords. If I got hooked and pulled within the grasp of any of these monsters, there would be no escaping.

There were enough of them that I couldn’t count them all while flitting between the masses of sweat and muscles. It was safe to say that I was outnumbered ten or 15 to one. Even in my heyday, while I served the High King, I had never tried to take on that many Fomorians by myself.

They were all counting on me. Bren and The Dagda were counting on me. I had left them at the base of the wall while Aengus and his father attempted to open the secret passage into the depths of the castle. Nemain created a diversion that gave us a chance to achieve our separate but related missions. Bren went to rescue Morias and the Ellyllon Queen’s Guard, while I went to open the drawbridge.

If I were able to achieve my goal, Aengus would lead the citizenry into the castle and aid us in the goal of taking back Caisleán Saighead for the Breo-Banríon. Where the former queen was amid this melee was unknown to any of us. The Fiery Queen had traveled with Tadg to the capital nearly a week ago. The leading thought was that she had not returned by the time the Fomorians had quietly taken over the castle.

The former king had been killed, even though we once thought the Tuatha Dé Danann could not be killed. Ruadan, her son, had run off with Cai Maccán, an adopted son of the Fomorians. All of this made my brain hurt, and that is saying something, considering that my entire world at the moment was made up of pain.

I boiled my whole situation down to this: Fomorians had taken over the home of the family I had once been sworn to protect. Though the nature of my position in the kingdom and the status of the family itself has changed, I was still Ellyllon. And Ellyllon don’t easily forget their loyalties, even to the very end. I would help to retake my former home, or I would die trying.

Dying while trying appeared to be the most likely outcome, I thought, as I felt my right wing crack and my feet touch down on the ground. I wasn’t able to sustain flight any longer, and the hulking bodies of the enemy loomed around me. I clutched at my Silverwhite blades and willed my shoulder to work. Then, I began to weave in and out of legs, arms, and enormous torsos. They were too close to one another to get full swings of their blades, and I, being one of the fairy folk, slid in and out of their masses while simultaneously sliding my blades in and out of their flesh.

I was covered in the red blood of the Fomorians. I had it in my hair and my mouth. On several occasions, I had severed arteries and was utterly showered in the liquid life. Despite the sheer amount of blood covering all parts of me, the weapons never lost their grip. These blades had helped me cut my way out of more tight spots over the years than I could remember. They were bound to me. While I drew breath, they were my redeemers. And while they were at my side, I would always breathe deeply amid the wails of my enemies. It was an unbreakable symbiotic truth that had led me to be the last of the Ellyllon guards of High King Bres.

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Bodies fell around me and blows continued to glance off my skin. I jumped and bounded off of their bodies, but not without leaving a farewell slash. I could hear the familiar sounds of “swish” and “stick” that the Silverwhite blades made as they sang out the coming of death. On one leap, I was bludgeoned with the side of one of the Fomorian cross guards. It nearly ended me.

The world was a bit fuzzy after that hit, but I was already next to the counterweight chain used inside of the gatehouse. I could see just the top of the chain that traveled the height of the room and into the pit below the gate passage. This was the chain that helped to lift the massive drawbridge blocking the town from the inside of Castle Arrow.

I couldn’t wait any longer. I dove up and off of one of the Fomorian’s shoulders, sailed through the air, and used Swish to cut the heavy chain. There was a loud crashing sound as the chain descended beneath the floor. There was a momentary pause in the fighting as the Fomorians looked around. I held tight to a brick up near where the chain had once traveled out of the ceiling. There was a groan and the sound of metal rending. I looked to the gate and watched as the great wooden and metal structure fell and crashed to the ground. The vibrations nearly knocked me off my perch, but I held tight.

A roar erupted from outside and I saw the Fomorians beneath me reform their line. They stepped forward to greet what I could only imagine were the angry citizens of Gorias.

Every part of me wanted to stay attached to that brick in the gatehouse, but I knew deep down that this was not a moment to rest. The battle was not won, so I dropped down behind the Fomorians quietly. To my great surprise, their attention was completely on the crowds of people rushing to the gate from the city. So much so, that I ran down their entire line, severing the tendons on the backs of their legs.

The masses were on them then and trampled over their crippled forms. I leaned on the outside wall off to the side of the gate, watching the people run into the castle. Some saluted me as they passed. Aengus was somewhere in their throng, calling out directions and likely supporting the weaker of the fighters. I knew then, that we would retake the castle. A wave of relief mixed with nausea washed over me. The pain after the rush of battle was always the worst, and it found me again and punished me for my efforts. I was woozy and I felt lightheaded.

I saw them then, two bodies fall from above on the other side of the draw bridge. It was after my second glance that my heart began to pound again. I tried to focus my eyes on the forms. There was a large Fomorian man covered in tattoos. He had a puncture wound just beneath his ribs, and he wore more rings than I can ever remember seeing in one place. I knew the man. It was Balor, the Fomorian prince. He seemed to turn up any time there was a raid or an assault committed by the Fomorians.

I tried to get my legs under me and began to walk toward the men, but a figure plowed into me as I took my first step out onto the drawbridge. I was knocked back nearly ten feet. Instinct quickly brought me to my knees. I snarled and pulled out my dagger, Stick. I was bracing for another round of attacks when I saw that the person who had run me over was pulling something off of Balor’s body.

I yelled at him. He brought the object to rest on top of his head before he turned to me. I couldn’t see his face, but I could see that he had dark skin and glowing red eyes. He had taken the Evil Eyes off of the body of Balor. I knew what would happen next and immediately rolled to my left. The torrent of flame shot to my former position, scorching the ground and rocks. When I came to a rest, the man was already running for the edge of the city. In my state, I knew I couldn’t catch him.

A hand gently lifted me to my feet. I flinched initially but quickly saw the passive face of Lady Badb, one of the three Morrigan sisters. She pointed to the bodies at the base of the wall, to Balor, the scourge of peace, and to the second body that had caused my heart to race. There next to Balor, laid the body of Bren Búachaill, bloody, broken, and slowly evaporating into the wind.