Bourn’s Edge (28 page)

Tarian regarded him coolly. “I propose a more fair fight—to what
would have been
the death.”

His grin vanished. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“No fun but the satisfaction of a victory justly earned.” He opened his mouth to reply, but Tarian continued, “Consider this, Corryn. Word of this bout will reach Mab’s court. That much is certain. For though I may not live to bear witness, the birds and insects, the Midsummer breeze itself, will carry the news.” She cocked her head. “I may no longer be immortal but I
am
still Fae. And the Queen loved me once. Would it be wise, do you think, to anger her further?”

Tarian’s reminder made him frown. “Oh all right.”

I don’t trust him
, thought Cassie, just as Tarian turned her head and looked at her. They locked gazes. “Don’t risk it,” she wanted to shout, but the words stuck in her throat. A sense of shame filled her.
I’m a coward. I can think only of saving my own skin
.

Tarian’s expression softened, and Cassie remembered that Tarian often seemed to know what she was thinking. This must be one of those times. Yet, far from condemnation, all she could read in those eyes was compassion.

“Courage,” mouthed Tarian, before turning to face Corryn once more.

He twirled his sword three times, then his manner became businesslike. “Shall we get on with it?”

Adopting a relaxed, slightly crouching posture, he raised his sword and dagger and shifted his centre of gravity over the balls of his feet. Tarian adopted a similar stance, and the two began to circle one another.

Bronzed blades flashed in the moonlight, but the clash of metal on metal sounded tentative to Cassie’s ears, and she realised that this was a testing of reflexes, a probing of defences, nothing more. Even so, something odd was happening. Whenever the blades touched, there was a spark.

The combatants paused, faces wearing identical expressions of puzzlement.

“Earth power?” wondered Corryn.

Tarian nodded. “Reacting to Fae magic?”

“Our own firework display.” Corryn grinned. “Splendid.”

He resumed his stance and circled her once more. Tarian adjusted her grip and kept her gaze on his face. The two closed, and this time the fight was in earnest. Corryn let loose a flurry of vicious strokes so fast that Cassie almost forgot to breathe. Fortunately, Tarian’s parries were like quicksilver too.

Each clash of blades produced a bolt of energy. One almost hit Anwar, but he yelped and ducked out of the way in time. Several stones soon sported chips and smoking gouges. The fiercest bolt yet struck the stone behind Cassie. With a loud
crack
, rock that had stood since Neolithic times shattered. A splinter stung her cheek, and she clapped a hand to it and studied the result. The streak of blood on her palm looked black in the moonlight.

“Wait,” shouted Tarian. She tucked her dagger in her belt and her low murmur filled the circle. The shape her hands described glowed in the night air before dissolving.

Corryn’s sword lashed out.

“Tarian!” gasped Cassie.

But Tarian had already reacted to Corryn’s sneak attack, ducking away from the scything blade and bringing up her own sword. Weapons clashed, and lightning flashed. An energy bolt headed straight towards Cassie, glanced off some invisible barrier, and caromed off a standing stone. The top half of the stone cracked off and landed with a thud, sending up a spray of dirt and torn turf.

If Tarian’s spell hadn’t protected me
. . . Heart in her mouth, Cassie returned her attention to the fight. Tarian’s face was a snarling mask. Cassie wished she could aid her, but she couldn’t risk distracting her. Fists curled in frustration, she willed Tarian on.

There was obviously a knack to fighting with dagger and sword, and both Fae had it. The intricate footwork, graceful thrusts and parries, and interplay of stroke with counterstroke reminded Cassie of a dance. But the turf with its bumps and hollows was far from ballroom standard—put a foot wrong and you could break an ankle.

The combatants broke apart at last to catch their breath and wipe the sweat from their faces. Tarian examined a bloody slash in her right sleeve before regarding Corryn with stormy eyes.

“Must I remind you that this fight is between
us
? Cassie is a non combatant.”

“Why should I care?” Strands of hair had stuck to his forehead. He swept them back with one hand. “That’s your problem, not mine.” Without warning, he lunged.

They grappled for each other’s wrists, panting and straining, struggling for mastery. Then the hilt of Tarian’s dagger caught Corryn on his temple. He staggered under the blow and took a step back.

“You’ll pay for that!”

“Promises, promises.” Tarian’s teeth gleamed in the moonlight.

Corryn flung away his sword, put his head down and charged. As they came to grips, his momentum combined with the slight downward slope to carry them half way across the circle. Tarian discarded her own sword—the better to grapple at close quarters, Cassie supposed—and punches flew and daggers rose and fell.

The tide of battle flowed first one way then the other. Cassie could only watch, torn between terror and hope, with her hand pressed to her mouth. But at last, Tarian managed to twist free of Corryn’s grip, draw back her arm, and thrust her dagger home.

As it slid beneath his ribs, he let out an animal-like grunt. For a moment they stood, locked as if in some grotesque embrace, then Corryn shoved Tarian away, and she let him.

Blood covered the dagger in Tarian’s hand. As Corryn dropped to his knees, lips moving, hands weaving a spell, she crouched and wiped the blade clean on the grass. “In anyone else that would have been a mortal blow. Our fight is over.”

It took a moment for him to heal his wound, then he got to his feet. He examined the gashed leather of his jacket with annoyance. “You’ve ruined it.”

“Buy yourself a new one.” Tarian turned to Cassie and beckoned.

Cassie took an eager step towards her, but Corryn’s “Not so fast, mortal,” stopped her in her tracks. She turned and gaped at him. A smile was playing around his lips.

“I’ve changed my mind about the rules, Tarian. To the death, I said. And I intend to have it.”

He motioned, and the sword lying on the far side of the circle flew towards him, hilt first. Corryn snatched it out of the air and threw himself at Tarian, who only just brought up her dagger in time.

Dismayed, Cassie retreated. The energy bolts generated by the blows and strikes that ensued were dazzling. She flinched as yet another one bounced off her protective bubble. The coruscating display must be visible from Nether Hopton. What were the villagers making of it?
A local thunderstorm?

Something warm and wet nudged her hand—Anwar. A thought struck her, and she crouched next to the dog. “Where’s Drysi?” He whined and pawed the turf. She wished she could understand him.

The pace of combat slowed, and it seemed to Cassie that there was less skill involved, more mindless slogging. Curses and grunts of effort came from the two figures fighting among the increasingly battered stones. Tarian’s forehead was streaked with sweat and grime, and she looked exhausted. The numerous cuts and slashes she now sported caused Cassie a pang of apprehension and puzzlement. Was it simply that Tarian hadn’t had the time or opportunity to heal herself, or was she trying to conserve her resources?

Tarian’s discarded sword lay on the turf nearby.
Perhaps if I
—Cassie had taken a step towards it before she came to her senses and looked up, fearful that her action might have distracted Tarian.

It had. And as she watched, Corryn’s dagger slammed home.

“No!” howled Cassie, as Tarian dropped her own dagger, her hands coming up to clasp the hilt protruding from her abdomen. Her eyes were full of agony, but she made no sound as she collapsed to her knees and curled up around the terrible wound. Her neck looked horribly vulnerable to Corryn’s blade. “Look out!”

But Tarian didn’t seem to hear Cassie’s warning.

“Say goodbye to your protector, mortal,” crowed Corryn. He raised his sword high. “When she’s dead, you’re mine.”

TARIAN’S WOUND WAS excruciating, but she set her jaw against the pain and left the dagger where it was—she had neither time nor energy to deal with the blood loss. She had hoped to make her move earlier, in less precarious circumstances, but Corryn had proved far wilier than expected. His guard was down at last, though, distracted as he was with taunting a horrified Cassie.

I’ll wipe that smile off your face
.

With a pang of regret that this might be her last sight of Cassie, Tarian turned her focus inwards. It had been distracting, storing in her mind the complex working she had prepared earlier, but it was vital if she were to be able to activate its component parts with a thought and a gesture. What she was attempting was risky, but with Cassie’s life in the balance . . .

Pushing her doubts aside, Tarian triggered the first part of her spell. Then, with a grasping, twisting motion, she called on the circle’s power to amplify her magic.

“What—?” said Corryn, as his blade cleared the crown of her head by a fraction of an inch. “How could I miss at that range?”

His gaze shifted, and his eyes widened. He was three feet in the air already, and gaining more height by the millisecond. With a howl of rage he threw his sword at her, but by then he had risen even higher, and it quivered, point first, in the turf by Tarian’s left knee.

She held the dagger piercing her stationary with one hand, and with the other pulled in yet more of the circle’s power. By now, Corryn was preparing to cast a disruption spell. Diverting a precious fraction of her energy, she set about countering it.

Blood oozed between Tarian’s fingers, and sweat trickled down her spine. Her vision seemed to be narrowing—it was like looking down a tunnel.
Not good. But I’m almost there
.

That must be enough for her purposes, surely? If it wasn’t . . . Well, she had given everything she had. “Say hello to Mab for me,” said Tarian.

With a gesture she activated the second part of the spell, and like an arrow, Corryn sped backwards, his path a long curving trajectory across the valley towards the crossing hidden in the heart of Bourn Forest. His shocked cry became one of outrage that faded into the distance until only the night sounds remained.

It’s done
. She slumped back onto the turf and gazed at the stars wheeling high above her.

“Tarian!” Cassie’s face filled her failing vision.

She tried to lift her hand but it had become a lead weight. Warm tears splashed her face, and a rough tongue rasped them away.
Anwar
. She felt herself being lifted and cradled.

“Can you hear me?” Cassie sounded on the edge of panic.

Tarian managed a grunt.

“You have to heal yourself.”

Heal myself?
Even breathing was too much effort.

“Tarian.” She felt herself being shaken, albeit gently. “I daren’t pull out the dagger. If I do, you’ll bleed to death. And if I don’t . . . Oh God, I think you’ll bleed to death anyway.” Hysteria filled Cassie’s voice. “You must heal yourself, Tarian. Now.”

“Can’t.” Tarian licked her lips. “No strength.”

A shocked silence met that admission. Then Cassie went on, “But Nether Hopton doesn’t have a hospital. Never mind that, idiot.” From her tone, she was thinking out loud. “A doctor. There must be a doctor. But how on earth am I to
get
you to him? Maybe Anwar could help drag you—”

The journey would kill me
, thought Tarian.
There’s one chance. A small one, some might say infinitesimal, but it might just work. It has to
.

She reached out blindly—by now her vision had gone altogether. Her fingers brushed against something, and seconds later, a hand was clasping hers. “Get me . . . centre.”

“I don’t understand,” said Cassie round a sob. “What are you trying to tell me?” Hair tickled Tarian’s cheek. Cassie must have brought her ear closer to Tarian’s mouth.

She tried again. “Centre.” She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “Of circle.” Then the roaring in her ears became a great rushing wave that carried her away.

Chapter 5

It was a balmy day in Faerie, but then in Mab’s realm, which some called the Summer Country, it usually was. In the flower-dotted glade, the creak of leather and jingle of harnesses, the whicker of horses and murmur of voices had joined the hum of bees and song of woodland birds.

Five Fae, two women and three men, were waiting there, some leaning against tree trunks, some squatting on their haunches, all as bored as their six horses, whose tails swished and ears flicked. Conversation was sporadic.

The handsomest of the men, his long hair tied back in a ponytail, his russet-coloured tunic and breeches covered by a cloak of forest green, was plainly the leader of the group. The other four, clad in grey cloaks and gripping light hunting spears, kept casting him respectful glances. His attention, however, was on the brindled wolfhound lounging next to him, tongue lolling.

“Lord Einion,” said a rider. “How much longer?”

“As long as it takes.” He frowned at the dog. “Are you certain this is the place your mistress meant, Drysi?” The dog held his gaze, and Einion gave a satisfied grunt. Then he whipped his head round and straightened, his hand dropping to the pommel of his sword. “He is coming. Get ready.”

Knuckles whitened around spear shafts as the others shifted to full alertness.

A loud thud, accompanied by an explosion of leaf mould and gobbets of earth, startled the horses. They whinnied and reared before they could be brought back under control. When the dust settled, the scent of freshly crushed foliage pervaded the glade.

The spear-carriers hurried to surround the black-clad Fae now lying dazed in a clump of bluebells. Blinking up at them, he raised a hand to fend off a spear point that had strayed too close to his eyes.

“Corryn.” Einion’s eyes were like flint, his voice flat. “Has it slipped your mind that you were banished by order of the Queen?”