The War of Odds (24 page)

Rondel groaned, and murmured, “These are my dark brethren, and more fierce fighters you will never meet. They were glamoured, I fear… cast under a spell so they put up no fight.”

Sara gulped with fear. She would never get used to seeing dead people individually, much less en masse like this. Looking up to the raised dais, she saw that one man huddled under a fine wool cloak, and stared down at them with a look of maniacal glee on his face. It was Timaron, the King of Unseelie.

He wore a magnificent silver crown studded with fiery gemstones the size of robin’s eggs. He was tall and had obviously once been quite handsome but now his face was skeletal and his eyes rolled madly in their sockets. He looked to be starving, and his hands quivered like birds on the armrests of his splendid throne.

“Who comes in to my court?” he demanded haughtily, but his voice croaked with disuse.

The guards who flanked him stirred with laughter, and Sara quailed. Four gigantic trolls stood to either side of the king. Trolls were ugly enough, with their eyestalks and flabby, warty skin, but these trolls were enchanted. Black shadows oozed under their thick hides, and their eyes gleamed with wrath. The hellhounds snarled and Hissaphat shrugged Pollo off his back and advanced toward the stage, hissing.

The Sasquatches growled in their native tongue and William’s fiddle wailed.

Sara stepped forward, and said, “Your highness, we have come to help you in your hour of need.”

Chapter 26

For a brief moment, it looked as if Timaron was startled awake. His eyes grew wide… fearful, and he stared out at them as though he could not imagine where he was or who addressed him. Then he grew dim again and the trolls shuffled their feet, snickering.

“Need…,” he muttered, “who are you, human, to tell me what I need?”

“Sire, my name is Rondel, of the Stormking realm.” The elf’s voice rang out in the large room. The trolls stared at him, lifting their rubbery lips in a grimace. Rondel glared, and said, “My liege, why do trolls attend you this day? Do you not see that your court is dead?”

Timaron stared about in bewilderment. “Dead… what are you talking about? My court is here… dancing and feasting, as usual, and what trolls are you referring to, young elf? There are no trolls within my court!”

Sara watched, aghast, as the same black shadows that swarmed over the troll’s skin ran across the wide blue landscape of the king’s eyes. Timaron blinked and shook his head fitfully, as if mosquitos plagued his large, pointed ears. “Leave off your shouting, I hear you!” He gasped.

Sara stepped toward the dais. “Your highness, may I approach?” Her voice was almost drowned by the troll’s sudden snarl of aggression. Trolls were frightfully strong, but usually clumsy. These trolls, however, moved with fluid grace and in tandem, as if one mind, alone, directed their movements. Each troll took a step forward, lifting its club high in the air in order to squash the girl who approached the king.

Onio let out a shout and instantly, the trolls were skewered upon the Sasquatches spears. Rondel and Chloe shot and watched as their arrows pierced the troll’s faces. The animals did their part, as well. Hiss screamed and leapt onto a troll’s face, while the hellhounds bayed and savaged the other monsters when they fell. There was a momentary melee, and then the trolls lie dead.

Unfortunately, the evil power propelling their actions was not as easily vanquished. The companions watched, sickened, as shadows oozed from the troll’s bodies, slithering out of their eyes, noses and ears, pooling on the stone floor like black blood. The shadows shimmered for a moment, and then began to rise up in the air, coalescing into tall, shrouded figures with baleful red eyes.

The companions took a step back, staring at the dark demons who threatened their world. Sara wracked her brains trying to put a name to these horrible wraiths, but could not recall what kind of creatures they were. Frantically, she whispered, “Rondel, what are those things?”

He shook his head, and replied, “Sara, I am sorry but Muriel and I were both wrong. We thought that dark faeries had seized control of the king’s mind and soul, but these are not fae, they’re demons from the deep!”

An evil snicker arose from the shadowy forms on the dais. The four, wavering shadows laughed as one, and a voice erupted from them, “I am Beelzebub, and I am legion!”

Sara gasped. She was not a churchgoer, and frankly, she had been mad at God since her mom died but even she knew who Beelzebub was… Satan, the Devil, Old Crotch… it did not matter what you called him, he was the worst thing there was, ever, and her heart cracked in fright.

As one, the shadows swarmed down off the dais, moving toward Sara and her friends, as they stood, shivering with dread. Then, glaring, Onio hoisted his spear and swung it like a bat. The mighty, sharpened stick whistled through the air and cut one of the demons in two. The shadowy wraith howled as it disintegrated into wisps of dark mist. The other wraiths stopped, glared at the Sasq warrior and then moved toward him.

Onio’s brothers took their weapons and set to, as well, swinging their clubs and spears furiously, watching as the corporeal bodies shuddered and flew apart, like clouds in a high wind. Rondel and Chloe, after a moment’s hesitation, took an arrow in each hand and stabbed at the shadows as they tried, in vain, to re-form in to a viable shape.

Pollo looked up at Sara and squealed, “Sara, come on! This might be our only chance!”

Sara nodded and ran up the stone steps to where the king sat, dazed, on his beautiful throne. Pollo flew upward as well, although his flight was sporadic due to his damaged wings. Timaron watched the battle below him with a bemused air, as though he was enjoying a spectator sport, instead of watching his saviors wrestle for control over his very soul.

Falling to her knees in front of the king, Sara begged, “Your highness, please! You need to help us!”

The Unseelie king started, scowling. “Who are you? Why do you bother me?” Staring around, he screamed, “Guards, take this human and put her in the dungeons…
 
GUARDS!”

Sara started to place her hands on the king’s chest, just above his heart as she was taught, but she hesitated, in fear and revulsion. The king’s flesh undulated and jerked with the power of the shadow that held him captive. The king’s eyes blazed red and he snarled, “Who gave you leave to touch my person?”

Pollo hopped up on Timaron’s shoulder and whispering softly, he pointed his tiny stick at the monarch’s ear. The king tried to brush the sprite off, but soft, lavender light bathed the side of Timaron’s head. Suddenly, the king let out a howl of anguish as streamers of darkness billowed out of his ear canals.

Sara gritted her teeth and laid both hands on Timaron’s chest. His lungs heaved and his body writhed in anguish as the soul of the devil fought the healer for control. Timaron opened his mouth and spoke, but the voice that issued forth, harsh, guttural and thick with loathing, was not his own.

“Long, have I looked for a way to destroy my enemies, little girl,” the devil hissed. “Human beings no longer listen to my words, and the silly fae in their underworld habitat held no interest for me. But a vain, egotistical monarch with resentments in his heart almost as old as man himself, held the key to human destruction!” The king’s eyes stared blindly, as the demon’s words spilled out of his mouth like a toxic river.

“Even now, your world spins out of control. The faerie world is at war, and the planet rocks with tidal waves of destruction, as thousands of humans die.” Timaron tittered madly, but something in his expression made Sara close her ears to the torrent of bile that spewed from his unknowing mouth. The king’s pretty, blue eyes pleaded with her for release. Guilt and sorrow shaded the king’s face even as his lips spat in fury.

“Stop that, witch,” Timaron’s false voice screeched as the girl began to pray. Muriel had told her to think of the things she loved most, like trees and green grass, and the whisper of wind through the willows. Sara understood, though, that those things were the love of Muriel’s life, and, as beautiful as they were they were not what she thought of now.

Instead, Sara thought of her mom and her dad, and Chloe and Nate. For a moment, her concentration faltered as sorrow wormed its way into her consciousness, but then she focused her energy. Taking a deep breath, she sent a long, shining spear of undying love, eternal hope and noble, human strength and kindness straight into Timaron’s heart. She did not hear when the demon screamed in fear, and she did not notice when the shadows surrounding her friends dissipated like smoke in a freshening breeze.

The king’s body jerked once and he fell back onto his throne with a sigh of exhaustion. Sara looked up, dazzled and relieved. The Sasq warriors peered about astonished, as Chloe and the elf grinned in relief. William’s fiddle stopped singing and Hissaphat sat down for a good wash. Sara caught Chloe’s eye, smiling, but then the king’s bony hand seized her cheeks in a vice-like grip. With a snarl, the demon left Timaron’s body and jumped into Sara’s mouth and down her throat. She choked, convulsing, and then sat up straight. Her gorgeous aquamarine eyes glittered with red points of fire and she growled at Pollo and Rondel as they stared at her in shock.

Suddenly, Rondel gasped and groped behind his back. Grinning fiercely, he produced Tandy’s horn and leapt up on the stone dais. “Pollo, help me, please!” he shouted.

The little sprite’s eyes were huge and he grasped the heavy horn with a cry of relief. Rondel ran behind Sara and seized her arms. Although the creature possessing the girl’s body snarled and writhed, Pollo approached anyway, carefully placing Tandy’s broken horn on her chest. He held on to the horn with one hand and clasped his own stick with the other, whispering frantically as the horn blazed white, turning the sprite’s purple glow pink.

As Rondel held Sara down and Pollo acted as healer, William helped Timaron out of his throne and down on to the floor where he stared, weeping piteously, at his dead courtiers. Onio and Chloe climbed up on the dais and gazed at where Sara laid gnashing her teeth and howling in rage and pain, while the Sasq warriors prowled the perimeter. Hissaphat and the two hellhounds sat and watched Sara with wide, knowing eyes.

Sara groaned and stared sightlessly at the little sprite, who was visibly shaking with fatigue. Then, she looked down at her chest, which was alight with purple fire, and her head fell back as she screamed in agony. Although the demon tried to stay, tried to burrow deeper into the girl’s soul, it could not withstand the double assault of Pollo’s magic and the unicorn’s potent medicine. Finally, with a howl of frustrated rage, it flew out of Sara’s throat and up into the air.

The sprite yelled in fury and pointed his wand at the streaming river of evil. A bright beam of amethyst light shot out of Pollo’s stick and hit the dark stream of evil with an incandescent blast as bright as fireworks in the summer dusk. As the others watched, the darkness turned white and then disappeared with a loud pop.

Blinking in the sudden gloom, and gasping with relief, the companions gazed around them with the dawning realization that the threat was finally over. Sara blinked back tears and was just about to grab Chloe for a hug when she heard a low moan. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Onio and Rondel were kneeling over something on the ground some distance away.

As soon as she heard Hissaphat’s wail of grief and dismay, she knew that Pollo, the brave little sprite, was dead.

Chapter 27

Sara cried out and ran to where the sprite lay sprawled on the floor. His face was gray and his wide emerald eyes stared up at nothing. He looked tiny now that his life’s essence had fled, as if he was a cast-off doll no longer needed or wanted by its owner. Hissaphat let out another long wail of sorrow and the two hounds sat down on either side of the cat, surrounding him with their silent, furry solace.

“Move, please…” she muttered to Onio, “it might not be too late” Sara knelt down and lifted Pollo on to her lap. He hardly weighed anything. and she marveled that the sprite had mustered enough magical energy to destroy a demon of darkness so powerful it was able to overcome Timaron, the Unseelie king.

Sara placed her hand on Pollo’s chest and closed her eyes. As her healing power shot into the sprite’s body, her soul traveled upon waves of energy and followed the little faerie as he made his way down a dark road. For a moment, her heart stuttered in fear. Muriel taught her that following a fleeing spirit was inherently dangerous.
 
Some hurts were too deep, some injuries too colossal for the mind and body of the afflicted to bear. Those souls sought the grace of death, and made their way there gratefully.