Mike Shevdon - The Eighth Court

Where the hollow had been cold, now it chilled further, as three grey shadows coalesced into being beyond the barrier of branches.

“You are the one who is in the wrong place,” hissed one.

“We are three,” said another.

“And you are one alone,” said the third. The leaves continued to circle as the three shadows formed a triangle around the column on leaves. “You can try and escape down the Way, but we will follow you wherever you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Amber, quietly.

The three figures hissed as one. Around the barrier, the twigs began to crackle and the sticks to rattle against each other as a blackness deeper than the night spread over them. The sharp smell of decay crept through the undergrowth, reaching inwards for the figure at the centre of the whirling column. As it did, the column of leaves expanded, until it encompassed not just the barrier, but the insubstantial grey shadows at the edge. The leaves didn’t touch them, but passed over and around them, until they were shadows within the column. The blackness raced across the leaf-litter towards her.

“And now you’re committed,” said Amber.

In response she lifted her arms, sword held out. She turned swiftly, scribing a circle in the air around her with the tip of her sword. Into the hollow came a different smell, the smell of bonfires and autumn. There was a hiss and crackle from the barrier, and all at once it flashed into fire, the flames rising through the floating ring to the screams of the Shades caught there. The centre of the ring was a column of orange flame with Amber at the core. There was a low, whump expanding outwards, and a ball of smoke rose from the hollow into the night air, extinguishing the flames.

When it dissipated, all was silent. Amber walked naked from the mound at the centre of the hollow, holding only her sword, and regarded the charred ground. She shimmered and her glamour re-clothed her. She shook her head and her dark hair fell back into the short feathered style it had always had.

“You were warned,” she said.

“Your quarrel is with me, not with her,” I told Raffmir.

“I will settle it with both of you,” he said. “Give me a moment, Blackbird, and I will bloody this blade and return to finish our conversation.”

“Lesley, take Dave and run. Get free while you can,” I heard Blackbird say as I retreated.

“We won’t leave you,” said Lesley.

Raffmir launched a series of diagonal cuts so that I was forced to retreat along the gallery above the stairs. I parried each so that I could draw him away from Blackbird and the others. He swirled and spun his sword in tight arcs, each aimed at testing my defence, each seeking the weakness that would give him the opportunity to deliver a killing blow.

“Do as she says,” I called to them.

“There is no need,” said another voice, materialising from the shadows. “While Raffmir plucks one thorn from our side, I shall pluck the other.”

Altair moved into the doorway, blocking their exit. I tried to warn them, but Raffmir was harrying me, forcing me back around the gallery and into the rooms beyond. He used the momentum of his blade to drive me, making each cut flow neatly from the last. I was forced into a series of jarring parries.

“Good to see that you’ve been practicing while I’ve been gone,” said Raffmir. “Still slow, though, and a little sloppy, I might add.”

I didn’t tell him that the place in my side where I’d been shot was still stiff and healing, and that it was making me favour my left side rather than my right. Instead I used the distraction of his words to launch a counter-attack, pushing him back towards the doorway where he would have less room to manoeuvre.

He spun in front of me, a lightning move, whirling the blade around his body so that my attack glanced off his blade. The hard end of the pommel on the hilt of his sword punched into my side where I’d been wounded. “Oof!” I staggered back.

“Do I detect a weak spot?” he said.

My side flared into pain where he’d punched me. I rolled backwards and came to my feet in time to sweep his downward cut to one side. It would have split my head open, but it was slow and he’d meant me to parry it.

He was playing with me.

Altair stood in the doorway, outlined in a white nimbus. “No need for any further delay,” said Altair. “We can settle this now, just between us.”

“There is nothing to settle,” said Blackbird.

“Oh, come now,” said Altair. “This is no time for false modesty. You have been a thorn in my side for some time, recently more so.”

“It seems only fitting, given that you’ve been persecuting me and mine for most of my life,” she reminded him.

Altair stepped into the room, avoiding the wreckage of the furniture Raffmir had demolished. As he did, Dave moved around, shielding Lesley.

“I have merely held to the traditions and values of the Feyre, something I do not expect you to comprehend. It is as beyond you as flying is beyond a dog.” He edged forward.

Blackbird backed towards the fireplace and reached behind her with her free hand, feeling tentatively with her fingers for the fire irons hanging on the stand beside the cold grate. She gritted her teeth. She could feel the ache in her palm as her hand neared the dark metal. Her timing would have to be perfect.

Altair moved forward again. “I would offer you the boon of a quick death,” said Altair. “But that would deprive me of the pleasure of delivering what is justly yours.” He reached for her.

“What I don’t understand,” said Blackbird, “is why? If all you wanted to do was destroy the courts then you could have achieved that a hundred times before now. I can’t make sense of a strategy that leads to your own extinction.”

“You forget, Kareesh’s perverted vision is only one version of the possible future — the only one she was prepared to contemplate. There is another way, even though it is not the way I would have chosen, had I been free to negotiate a settlement. I tried, I truly did. You forced my hand. All of this would not have happened if you hadn’t formed a mongrel court and threatened the very purity of the Feyre. That is why this fate is rightly yours.”

“What other way?” asked Blackbird.

“The Wraithkin possess the power to draw the life from others. This is what sets us apart. Using that life-force we can renew ourselves and become what we once were. We have sacrificed our brethren to renew them. We will build a new Court of the Feyre, filled with the life of all who sacrificed themselves. From death will come life, and renewal.” He sounded triumphant.

“You chose genocide?” said Blackbird. “You’d destroy everything just to save your own sorry skins.”

“I did not expect you to comprehend our vision of the future,” said Altair.

“I comprehend it perfectly,” said Blackbird. “I’m just stunned by the myopic, selfish, stupidity of a bid to save a race by consuming its people. It has all the sophistication of trying to turn yourself into a cow by eating beef.”

“You are not fey enough to understand,” said Altair.

“You mad bastard,” said Blackbird, shaking with anger. “You deserve the extinction that will certainly achieve. So say I! Lesley!” She launched William at Lesley. Squealing in surprise, William flailed his chubby arms as he sailed through the air to be half-caught by Lesley, who broke his fall and rolled with him back onto the bed, her relief at catching him written plainly on her face.

Blackbird reached behind her.

At that moment, Big Dave launched himself into a flying tackle at Altair. Altair caught the movement in the corner of his eye and swept the sword around, using his fist on the hilt to backhand the attack. He connected with Dave’s chest and Dave flew backwards as if hit by a truck, crashing into the wall so hard it cracked the plaster, showering everyone with fine dust.