Day 17 of Midwinter, Nightfall

Túr Crochta, The Deep Realm

Annwn

It was late, near the middle of Nightfall, if I had to guess. There were no guards stationed outside of my cell door, and I saw no extraneous traffic coming in or out of the throne room.

I could, however, hear lively conversation coming from inside, and I felt no guilt in pausing to listen. It seemed that Corb and his closest allies were planning to assemble and move an army of Fomorians to Mag Mór. But how?

According to Tethra, King Neit had kept the secret of Tir fo Thuinn to himself until he had shared that secret with her and only her. How then could Corb possibly move an entire army to Tir Tairngire by morning?

I knew there were many thin spaces in the Deep Realm to Ériu. These spaces were the main way the Fomorians had been able to pass to and from the mortal world to procreate, after all. But I did not know of any thin spaces to other parts of Annwn.

Was it possible Corb had discovered Tir fo Thuinn? I shook myself out of my musings. The reality was that if the next few moments went according to plan, it would matter little.

I focused harder on the different voices coming from the room, trying to discern their number. Six Fomorians, plus Corb, if I had counted correctly.

It was likely they had my equipment and the Spear…which would surely be wielded by Corb. I wondered if I would be able to manipulate the relic with my boons. It was possible, though unlikely, and in a battle to the death, finding out the hard way that I couldn’t slow the spear would have drastic consequences. As it was, my only weapon was Orna. But Orna had a memory…and it likely knew each of these opponents. I could rely on that ability.

The throne room was cavernous and cold. Braziers were lit at the bottom and at the top of the stairs, near the throne. Corb stared into one brazier I knew very well, the Blaze Diviner. I wondered idly who Corb was spying on, until he looked up directly to where I hid.

“I knew somehow you would come,” Corb said. He looked back into the flickering flames. “It was the Mná na Mara, wasn’t it? I shall have to do something about that group of women after the war.”

The six other men began to make their way down the stairs, hands on their weapons. Corb remained at the top, reaching for the golden spear that could mark my doom. The spear was strong enough to pierce the strongest armor, not that I was wearing any armor at all. If Corb scored a hit on me with it, the sharp point would pass clear through me and return to his hand in the next moment. I had only one chance against its power.

I sprinted toward the men. As the first two reached the bottom of the stairs, I expanded and exploded the braziers to either side. Flames shot forth and engulfed both men. They screamed and attempted to smother the fire by rolling on the ground. Two temporarily out of the fight. Four obstacles remained in my path.

I activated Perfect Aim at the next pair of advancing men. The first swung his sword high in an obvious attempt at a killing blow. I ducked as Orna swung low, moving with a speed I had never experienced before. My Maximum Yield boon turned what might have normally been a deadly slash across the man’s abdominals into a butter-smooth thrust that severed the man’s spine.

I yanked the blade from the dying man’s body, turning to face my next opponent. As I did so, I saw Corb make his first throw with the spear. Using my boon to control the speed of the charging man, I accelerated his pace to place him directly in front of me precisely when the spear would have stuck.

It shot through the man like it was passing through air, and I recoiled from its forward momentum, sliding low on the floor to the base of the stairs. The skewered man fell behind me, and Corb recalled the spear.

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Two more Fomorians to go, not including Corb, and those two were almost upon me. I looked up to the chandelier hanging above me, even higher to the space above it where a high concentration of lichen was visible. With the candles in the chandelier, this space was where the majority of the light in the large room came from.

I did the only thing I could do. I squeezed my eyes shut and intensified the glow of the light until it felt hot from behind my eyelids. I heard screams from the two men, then a clattering as they stumbled and fell down the remaining stairs.

Lowering the intensity of light back to normal levels, I opened my eyes and sprinted to one of the many nearby stone half tables. The low tables, designed to be used as a chair or a table depending on what the moment required, were heavy and massive. I had never attempted to pick one of them up before. Throwing caution to the wind, I heaved with all my strength, hoisting the huge stone slab in front of me. A second later, I heard the thud of the spear on the other side and knew immediately that I had narrowly missed being impaled.

I ran forward, holding the heavy table as a shield. Orna was still clutched tightly in my hand between my palm and the table. I reached the first blinded man on his knees at the base of the stairs and paused long enough to kick him as hard as I could in the face. I heard his neck snap. The other man had stumbled to his feet, but one glance at his damaged eyes assured me he could wait.

I bounded up the stairs, taking two or three at a time, toward where Corb had previously been, still holding the table in front of me. Despite its usefulness as a shield, it greatly hindered my ability to see the room. Again, I heard a clang on the table. I jerked my face back as the point of the spear poked out directly in front of me before disappearing as it was recalled. I was shocked to realize I now had an eyehole!

Peering through the tiny gap, I watched Corb back up toward the throne. I charged directly at him, my arms increasingly heavy from the weight of the table. Corb growled in disgust and threw the spear to the ground before snatching up his familiar, double-bladed sword, the weapon that had seen him through countless battles. For more chapters visit NoveI-Fire.ɴet

“Fight me, Maccán!” he roared. The sound nearly covered the soft shuffle of one of his men attempting to sneak up behind me. Nearly. The man’s charred, still-smoking clothing made it obvious that he was one of the men I’d assumed were already removed from the playing field. No longer needing it anyway, I heaved the stone table at him.

He faltered, dropping his sword without thinking and extending his arms as if to catch the massive object. It crashed down into him before it began toppling down the stairs. Each loud thud was accompanied by a heavy, wet noise as the man was crushed between the table and each stair that it slid down.

A quick recount, depending on the state of the men, left one burned and one likely blind Fomorian to go…and most importantly, Corb.

He stood his ground in front of me, Fuilgeir in his hand. Corb was a formidable fighter and nearly as strong as I was. Orna gleamed in my own hands, as if hungry for its final battle against Fuilgeir.

I closed the space between us, watching him carefully. As I expected, Corb’s Evil Eyes flared to life, spewing forth a torrent of flames. He likely knew that I could deflect energy magic, but was using it anyway as a means of distraction.

What he didn’t know was that I had another trick up my sleeve.

I had never attempted what I was about to do, but instead of turning the fire away, I used my Transform Energy boon to rapidly lower the temperature of the geyser of fire until ice crystals began to form. The column of flames became massive ice shards leading back to Corb’s face. With my free hand, I grabbed a jagged shard and thrust it back to its source. Corb screamed as blood began to flow out of his ruined eye socket.

Corb stumbled back as the ice shard shattered. I didn’t wait but continued to charge. I swung Orna with all my might. Corb managed to raise Fuilgeir enough to narrowly parry my blow, but the sheer force of my attack sent Corb flying back onto the throne. The sound of shattering bones filled the room.

Corb staggered to his feet. His eye continued to gush blood, and his body leaned to one side. He took a swaying step toward me.

“You didn’t have to kill her,” I said, waiting for him to come to me. “She was your sister… She was the best of us.”

Corb smiled through bloodstained teeth. “That is why she had to die.” He spat out blood and continued to lurch toward me.

I tensed, his words rekindling the burning fire in my heart. Jumping, I swung my sword high on his side with no vision. I landed on my feet, panting. His head thudded to the floor next to me, his body following seconds later.

I exhaled, feeling no relief but only bone-deep tiredness. As I assessed the canvas of red that decorated the throne room, a grim realization settled over me… This wasn’t about justice.

As Dubhlinn had said, this was the consequence for actions that could never be atoned for. It was revenge.