Home > Noble (Night of the Dark Fae #3)(4)

Noble (Night of the Dark Fae #3)(4)
Author: Angela J. Ford

“Your journey will be long,” Yael warned. “We have a fast mount that awaits you, but she will not stop. You have enough strength, so this ride will not kill you, but you must rest and recover afterward.”

“Kill me?” Maeve’s eyes went wide. How could riding on the back of a beast possibly kill her? Now she was frightened.

“Just as we are not of this world, nor are the beasts who assist us,” Yael said.

Dread coursed through Maeve’s veins. Why was she always thrust from one impossible situation into the next? Why should she be the unfortunate one? She rubbed the back of her neck, eyes stinging. She would do this without complaint. “What kind of beast is it?” she asked.

Yael glanced at Asim. “Is it safe?”

He inclined his head. “It is.”

“Follow me.” Yael set off down the stone hall. “I will prepare you for your journey.”

Without another word, Maeve followed, aware this was a time of war, and rest might be long in coming.

 

 

4

 

 

Sweet Summons

 

 

Yael did not offer any further explanation, and Maeve followed her silently down the spiraling staircase until they arrived at another level. Once again, a golden light lit up the concave room, displaying rows of swords, shields, mail, bows, arrows, and more. Maeve turned in a slow circle, gazing in astonishment at the vast armory. There was enough armor to equip hundreds of soldiers.

Yael studied her, her gaze running the length of Maeve’s body. “We have little for someone of your stature,” she admitted, her fingers brushing the shelves as she walked. “You will need to be covered, for touching the beast could prove. . .” she paused, searching for the right words, then gave up as she pulled a smaller suit of armor out. “Dress quickly, the storm will cease soon and there will only be a small window before it begins again.”

Maeve did not see how the storm could end because of the way it roared and wailed. Rain struck the window as though instead of raindrops, they were pellets of tiny stones, seeking a way to get inside. But she had no choice, and the extraordinary turn of events still left her mind reeling as she attempted to process everything that had happened to her.

She pulled on a new shift, the soft material cool against her body. Then came the gauntlets for her arms and legs, which covered all of her exposed skin, but were flexible enough to allow her unrestricted movement. Yael handed her a golden breastplate and a helm for her head.

“Make sure you tuck your hair in,” she said, “if you want to keep it.”

Maeve hesitated, worry flooding her. “What kind of beast is this?” she asked as she finished dressing. The armor felt light on her and although it was not too restricting, she still felt as though she were encased in a metal box. Her heartbeat increased, and quickly she reminded herself that she was not collared or trapped, nor was she in the fae Underground. She was free, about to return to the world, the city of mages.

“She is the oldest creature, the fastest, the strongest, the best. We call her Enya.”

Taking a breath to still her nerves, Maeve tried to think of a meaning for the name: Enya. But nothing came to mind. Instead, she followed Yael back the way they had come until once again they stood in the hall with Asim keeping watch over the gates.

“She is ready,” Yael announced.

“I will summon her.” He lifted a silver horn and blew upon it.

A sweet, tinkling sound filled the air, and a rush filled Maeve. She took a step forward before she recalled the horn was not meant for her and did not call her to that place. Above her head a dark shadow swept over the skies, and just as Yael had said, the storm relented. The rain slowed, as though it begrudgingly had to stop. The sporadic lightning was no longer followed by great rumbles of thunder, and then something landed on the top of the tower with a harsh scraping sound.

Dread filled Maeve’s heart, but regardless, she followed Yael to the ladder.

Light filled her vision as she climbed on top of the tower, unnerved, once again, by the lack of walls or anything else to hold on to. Her breath left her body as the dazzling light lessened and she saw the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen. Bright orange feathers, the color of flame covered the creature’s broad back. Curved claws rested on the gray stone of the tower while the beast looked down at Maeve and Yael, bright eyes examining them while a red glow pulsed on its chest. It spread its wings and cocked its head. Maeve stepped back. The bird towered a good five or six feet above her with a plume of red and orange feathers crowning its head.

“Eyna is a firebird.” Yael pressed a hand to her heart. “She will take you as far as the city of mages but be wary of her fire.”

Firebird. Phoenix. Like dragons, Maeve had heard of them in old tales, and assumed they were not real, only a legend. How wrong she’d been once again. But she couldn’t help the fear that wrestled in the pit of her stomach. Legend held that the creatures burst into flame when antagonized, but were also known for their rebirth, for a firebird could never truly die. Still, how ironic was it that she could not escape from fire. The dragon. The fire mages. Now a phoenix?

“Take this.” Yael pressed a bundle into her hands. “Now go with grace. We will meet again.”

Maeve paused as the firebird turned its back to allow her to mount up. “Once I’ve found the crown, how will I find you again?”

“Find a Master of Portals,” Yael instructed. “One should dwell in the city of mages, and now that all curses are broken, the torn magic will work again.”

Maeve had no idea what that meant, but regardless, she mounted up. Warmth filled her body as she settled into the nest of feathers. The firebird spread its wings and lifted her away, leaving the dark gloom of the Island of Hades behind.

 

 

5

 

 

Fire Mages

 

 

Black clouds rolled across the night sky, shutting out the light. A sharp wind blew with a sour tang to it. Imer fidgeted on the battlements and felt for his pipe. A quick smoke would help soothe his nerves, his frustration at doing nothing.

Three days ago everything had changed, he’d felt it in the marrow of his being. The magic of the world had shifted and with it came the dense, dark clouds. Every night was black, hiding the moonlight and starlight. Imer couldn’t help but wish to know more about what had happened that fateful night. The night of the full moon.

His thoughts went to Maeve and his fingers tightened into fists at the thought of her suffering abuse in the hands of the dark fae. He hadn’t meant to fall for her, flirt, aye, but actually care about her? He knew it could come to no good and hated the very thought of leaving her collared, with only Sandrine’s unpleasant attitude for company. But he also understood that they played a long game, and his place was at the wizard’s tower with the other mages, waiting.

But he hated waiting, not knowing what had happened, and whether Sandrine and Maeve would return, or whether they were dead. If they returned with the Crown of Erinyes, war would come. And if they did not, war would still come. But whether the mages set forth or stayed in the tower’s shadow would be determined. Soon.

Turning his back to the wind, he hunched over to light his pipe, using his fingertip so the wind would not easily blow out the flame. He took a long drag, losing himself in the fragrance of tobacco. Pipe smoke reminded him of a time when he and Ingram snuck off from the temple of Isdrine where they were raised. They discovered a pond, hidden in a grove of trees, where a boy about their age sat fishing. They’d joined him, shared their first pipe, and caught many fish together. A calm adventure it had been, but necessary, to remind them that all was not dark and evil. Despite the death of their parents and their secret magic, there was still good in the world, and opportunities to find pleasure in the mundane.

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