The Iron Locket (The Risen King) (8 page)

As the gates swung open, Arthur felt the weight on his chest ease just barely. At least for a little while longer, he thought, he would be safe inside those walls, safe from whatever horrors were about to come. He walked through the gates first, followed by the five faery generals. His own knights brought up the rear. When the gates thudded shut behind them, the noise level outside grew once more. He hoped that having four armies who normally hated each other all shoved into one tight space would not lead to more trouble than the upcoming war would. He had had his fair share of trying to keep the peace among enemies who had to work together under dire circumstances. He could already feel the electricity building among the faeries behind him. Sighing inwardly, he led them to the council room.

*~*~*

EIGHT

*~*~*

Arthur sat at the round table with his head in his hands, fighting against the hammers that were beating on the inside of his skull.

"We have to attack now! They are already gaining a foothold into the lands of the South and we cannot waste time on trifling matters such as this." Zela, the general for the South, pounded on the table with her fist, causing the whole thing to vibrate gently. Her blue eyes blazed with such ferocity that the knights feared she would leap across the table and attack Deklen outright.

Deklen simply stared at the woman with the coolness he had inherited from his mother. "We all have armies out there holding them back. Rushing into a full-scale war head-on without preparation will only lead to defeat. You should know this."

The smirk on Deklen's face only infuriated Zela even more. A growl grew in her throat and she stepped forward.

"I agree with Zela." Percival stood up from his seat at the round table. He tossed a small smile in the direction of the southern general before turning to face Deklen.

The prince laughed. "Of course you would, pretty boy."

"Enough." Arthur let annoyance bleed into his command. The strength of his voice had not been lost over the centuries and the single word quelled the faeries' argument. With a snarl on her face, Zela slammed down into her chair, crossing her arms like a petulant child.

"Whether we like it or not, I think war has come to us. Based on all the reports I've been hearing, Leanansidhe and Kane have a formidable force that is already encroaching on your lands from more than one front. If we are to leave them to their own devices, they will continue to attack, only serving to weaken us." He leveled his stare at Deklen. "They will divide and conquer. Thin out the forces until we are vulnerable. We have to take the battle to them, force them to fall back to defend and wear them down until we can crush them. That is the only way this is going to work. We cannot allow ourselves to be pulled in all directions and stretched until we break. We will focus the fight, attack their front lines, then once they are weakened, we push through and hit them at home."

Deklen set his lips into a thin white line, but did not speak against the knight. Arthur waited, his shoulders tight, ready to argue down anyone who questioned his command. The faery stared at him for a very long time, testing his strength of will. At last, Deklen caved. He gave a curt nod and settled back into his chair. "What is the plan, then?"

"Do we have a map of the battle area?"

Deklen reached into his armor and withdrew a rolled piece of parchment. He laid it out on the table in front of Arthur. "The major force is here," he said, pointing to the paper. “We will be coming from over here.”

"What do we know of Leanansidhe's army, aside from its size? Are they well-trained?"

The western general, Norin, laughed. "No. The witch is more about numbers and strength than she is about skill. She will throw everything at us as fast as she can without a care in the world for her soldiers."

Arthur nodded. "So we hit them hard and fast and take as many out as we can." He nodded at the man who just spoke. "You will take your forces down to the right if possible, flank them and swing them in toward us. Deklen, you will take half of yours to the left. We have the skill and the drive. If they are as untrained as you claim, we should be more than capable of winning this battle, and many more to come."

"We will be sacrificing a lot of fine men and women for this." Drakka sat behind her brother with her arms crossed. Her glare was locked on Arthur.

The king met it without flinching. "That is war, princess. Many will die so that we may succeed. If you have trained them well, they have a better chance. We cannot wait any longer than you already have."

She pressed her lips together in a tight line, but her stare never left him.

"Any other questions or concerns?" Arthur stood at the table with his hands on his map as he let his gaze wander around the room. No one spoke. "Very well. We will leave in an hour's time. Be ready." With that, he pushed back from the table and strode to the door.

Arthur emerged from the council room flanked by the sons of North and West. Deklen turned to Arthur and gave him a half bow. "The Four Queens were wise in their decision, knight. You and your men are of sound mind and strong heart. Backed by your new strength and the powers of Faery, I fully believe you can rid us of this threat."

Arthur tilted his head toward Deklen. "Thank you for your trust. I only hope I can live up to your expectations."

Deklen bowed once more before striding down the hall to the main entrance, trailed by his silent twin.

Norin, Isobel's son, clapped a hand on the knight's shoulder. He had the muted strength of character that his mother exhibited and Arthur was looking forward to doing battle alongside the man. "You are a strange one, Arthur Pendragon." The man's voice was deep, but gentle and kind. He exhibited an empathy toward others that most of the other faeries seemed to lack. "You will either prove yourself to be a great ally, or a great disappointment. I sincerely hope it is the former." Without another word, he turned and followed Deklen outside.

"Interesting bunch." Lancelot stood beside Arthur, his dark eyes watching the faery generals as they retreated.

"Indeed." Arthur nodded thoughtfully, then he snorted a laugh as he turned to look sidelong as his friend. "The next few weeks are either going to be very entertaining or absolute hell."

"Likely both." Lancelot clapped Arthur on the shoulder and turned to leave. "I will have the servants prepare the horses. We should get going as soon as possible."

As Lancelot headed out the side door to the stables, Arthur ascended the stairs to his chambers. Rogan was there waiting. He rose from a chair beside the door as the king entered. "Sire," he said, offering a half bow. "I have packed your things."

Arthur gave him a sidelong glance. "Thank you. How did you know we would be leaving?"

Rogan's smile was a brief flash of light across his face. "I am your servant, your highness. It is my job to know and answer your every need without question." Seeing Arthur's raised eyebrows, he added, "Servants in Faery are a bit different from those in the human world, sire. We are born for this life, to serve. The
knowing
is a part of us. Without it, we are nothing."

"I still do not quite understand all this faery stuff," Arthur said as he took the leather sack Rogan offered him. "Even growing up with the old religions, none of it really made sense to me."

Rogan gave him a soft smile, his quiet manner neither encouraging nor discouraging Arthur's ramblings. The king warmed inside as he was reminded of his favorite servant from long ago, a man with a similar demeanor.

Arthur cocked his head, a thought popping into his mind. "By the way, what gods rule the human world now? Is it still the Christian God? Or has he disappeared as the old gods did during my childhood, replaced by some new deity?"

Rogan stepped over to Arthur and draped a large, heavy cloak around his shoulders. The king noticed with a smile that it was a deep red and embroidered with the emblem he had used during his reign over Camelot.

"Gods do not disappear, my lord. They do not change or fade away with time. It is humanity that is fickle and ever changing, always looking for the one deity who will fix all the problems they themselves created. No, the Christian god exists, but so do all the others. They may be harder to reach now, but they are all there, answering those who still call to them. You only need to search to find them. Someone somewhere still believes, and so they still respond."

Arthur's brow furrowed as the familiar weight settled onto his shoulders. "What an interesting theory. I guess I never thought of it that way." He shrugged the cloak up further on his shoulders so Rogan could hook the heavy gold clasp.

"It is not theory, my lord. It is merely fact. Some say faeries fade as humans lose belief in them. But that is not true, either. Just because humans cease to believe in something, it does not mean it does not exist. Humans are a very arrogant species." His hands paused briefly before he added, "My lord."

Arthur opened his mouth and drew in a breath, ready to defend his humanity, but flashes of a former life came back to him, brief glimpses of wars fought over riches and land; men, women, and children killed because they chose to believe in the wrong gods. He gripped Rogan's shoulder firmly and looked the man in the eye. "You may well be right about that, good man, but that just means they need our help all the more."

"Yes, sire." Rogan picked up the pack that Arthur had set on the table. "I will carry this down for you."

*~*~*

NINE

*~*~*

The knights were waiting in the courtyard when Arthur and Rogan joined them. An ethereal being that reminded the king very much of Mab's daughter brought the large white stallion he had rode into the castle over to them. It had already been saddled and packed with food and other various basic necessities. As Rogan attached the pack to the back over top of the other items, Arthur joined the knights and faeries milling around.

"My soldiers have a path open along the west way. It is waiting for us. It will bring us within striking distance of the largest part of Leanansidhe's army." Oonagh's daughter, Eden, was the spitting image of the queen, as if Oonagh had merely cut of a strand of her own hair and bid it to grow into a faery. Behind the girl's green eyes and quiet nature, Arthur could see her mother's intelligence and a hidden ferocity just waiting to be released.

"Very good, thank you." Arthur nodded to her and she bowed once before disappearing behind the others. He turned to Lancelot. "Are we all ready to go?"

"I think so. All the knights are here, the horses are saddled. The faeries' mounts are outside the gates. Once we leave, we are to join the Western army. They will lead the charge."

"Alright. Mount up. My fingers are already itching for battle." With Rogan's help, Arthur swung up onto the back of his big black steed.

"Take care, my lord." The man patted the flank of the horse tenderly as he bid the king farewell.

"Thank you, Rogan. We will return soon."

The servant nodded and walked away. Arthur saw him take up position on the castle steps to watch the procession leave. The king trotted over to where the western general was standing with her second in command. "We are ready," he said when she looked his way.

With a curt nod, she walked toward the gates. Arthur kept pace beside her and the gates swung open at their approach. He glanced back once before they shut behind him. Rogan was still standing on the steps, his face grim as he watched the king leave. Arthur hoped dearly that he would see the man again.

The faeries were greeted by their small contingents as the gates closed. Each general mounted the steed of their choice. Most were riding horses, but Isobel's son sat atop a large cat-like beast covered in a strange pattern of orange fur and yellow scales. It stretched and growled as the faery leapt onto its shoulders, calling to it in a language Arthur did not understand.

The knights were silent as they followed their king and Eden around the side of the castle. As they reached the corner, Arthur could see a gap between the mobs of faeries. A clear patch of green divided the armies of North and West, causing Arthur to shake his head inwardly. He wondered how the four nations would fair in battle. Normally at odds, they would be forced to join together and support one another. They could not win the coming battle if they insisted on keeping their armies so disjointed. He hoped that they would see that before it became too late.

When they reached the middle of the Western army, the mass of bodies parted, allowing the general and the knights through. Arthur examined the faces around him. Many were very human-looking, with minor feature changes such as pointed ears, colored skin, and strange glowing eyes. But scattered among the others, he could see heads full of green leaves, twig-like arms, towering beasts that reminded him of a giant he had once fought. He looked up as he heard a roar overhead. A large tawny creature swept low over the army, its enormous white-speckled wings spread wide. Its head and legs were those of a falcon, its body covered in fur. It had a long, scaly tale with a deadly barb on the end. On its back rode a faery, tall and lanky, steering the creature with his hands and nothing else. He had a bow slung across his back. He waved to the knights below and Eden returned the wave.