Page 67 of The Maleficent Faerie
The shrieking panic in my soul shocks me, rips apart the last shreds of what I knew about myself. My sobs surge and expand in my chest until I have to scream, wordless and agonized.
Mine, mine, he’s mine, I need him, I want him...
“Eonnula, help me,” I choke out. “You have to save him. Youhaveto. I’ll do—anything—” I hitch a ragged breath, more sobs clogging my throat— “I’ll offer you anything, everything—he can’t die—no, no—no, please no, please.”
The toxic lightning flickers along the swaying locks of Malec’s dark hair and creeps with crooked fingers up his throat. His fixed eyes are slowly emptying of life.
I will never recover from this. Never. I will walk straight to the Edge and fling myself into the Void—
“Are you listening?” I tell him, angry, wretched. “If you die here, I will walk right to the Edge and jump in. Don’t you fucking dare let yourself die.”
The crawling light-poison has nearly succeeded in encasing all of him. I can only see its outer spread, the acidic burn of the light on his armor and skin—but I don’t know if it has reached his heart yet.
“Push it away,” I whisper through tear-slicked lips. “You still have the Void in you. Use that. Protect your heart, and push back the light with the darkness. Don’t stop fighting. Don’t you ever fucking stop fighting, notever. From now on, you are not allowed to give up on yourself. It’s not even an option, you hear me? You’re mine. You’re mine, and I want you here, you maleficent bastard—”
Something’s happening outside, beyond the dome of his wings and body. Malec jerks, but this time it’s not an impact—it’s as if something is being pulled out of him. Yes, someone is yanking out the arrows, one by one, thank Eonnula.
“They’re coming,” I murmur, more tears bathing my cheeks. “Hold on. They’re coming.”
Minutes later, Ember and Kyan finish pulling out the arrows and roll Malec onto his back. With the arrows gone, he’s no longer suffering the toxic paralysis, but he’s strangely gray, and his eyes are distant, unfocused.
“He’s fading,” mutters Ember. “It’s a miracle he isn’t already dead.”
“He had some Void magic left,” I manage. “Maybe it helped him survive.”
Ember nods. “It won’t last long, and none of us have the skill to heal this kind of damage. We must ride for Ru Gallamet with all speed. We killed the Caennith on the hill, but more may be coming from the field soon. We’re going to ride on, using our enemies’ horses. Andras saw them in a hollow and went to fetch them. Those mounts have had a chance to rest, standing around while their masters waited to attack us. With those fresh horses, we’ll cover ground faster. Are you with us, Princess?” His red eyes pierce mine.
I nod. “I’m with you. Withhim.”
“Good.”
The remaining four knights are all wounded—minor injuries, thankfully. Kyan appears to be healing, though slower than usual for a Fae, thanks to the toxic arrow. Even though it was only embedded in him for a few seconds, it weakened him dramatically. Malec had multiple arrows in him for several minutes. He should be dead. Hewillbe dead, unless we hurry to a healer.
When Andras arrives, leading the horses, I notice that he has open cuts which don’t appear to be healing at all, despite the faint blue of his skin marking him as not entirely human. Apparently he doesn’t have Fae healing abilities, and he doesn’t seem to be Fae-strong, either. He’s probably the result of generations of Fae and human intermarriage.
The Caennith Priesthood would shake their heads at a man like him. “What a pity,” they would say, pointing him out as an illustration of their personal dogma, that the races should never breed. They would have missed his kindness, loyalty, and diligence, noting only the absence of the traits they wanted to see.
I brush aside thoughts of the Caennith as the Edge-Knights lift Malec and his immense wings onto a horse. I want Malec with me, but I don’t protest when Vandel is appointed to ride with him and keep him in the saddle. The mare they’re riding is huge, with shining muscled shoulders and massive haunches, capable of both strength and speed. I’m given a slim, swift horse, and although the knights discuss tying my hands to the saddle, they decide against it.
The knights work swiftly, transferring saddlebags to the fresh horses. Haste is vital, because there may be more Caennith in the fields behind us, preparing for another attack, this time under cover of darkness.
In mere moments, we are mounted and galloping over the shadowed hills, under the pallid nighttime glimmer of the three veiled suns.
We ride all night. Never have I suffered such long hours of strained anxiety and strenuous physical exertion. We stop once, briefly, to piss and cram food into our mouths. My heart drags me toward Malec, but I manage to resist the urge to fly to his side. Instead I use the precious minutes to relieve myself, eat, and drink. But I cast furtive glances at him as we mount up again.
From what I can discern in the dark, he’s still gray—the color the Fae take on when they are fading, dying.
I remember Kyan’s sister—her olive skin losing its warmth, changing in tone. Blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth. My sword in her gut.
When the flesh turns smoky and translucent, the faerie is past hope.
We ride on, and I stay abreast of Vandel and the Void King, dreading the signs of that final change.
Malec’s wings trail on either side of the horse, nearly brushing the ground. His head hangs forward, his face hidden by his long black hair. I can’t see the color of his skin, and I’m too proud to ask Vandel how he’s doing. I can’t help Malec anyway—knowing his condition won’t change my utter impotence in this situation.
So I pray to him, quietly, in my mind.Stay alive, stay alive. Fight.
I intersperse those mental commands with prayers to Eonnula—if she’s listening, if she even cares. Maybe the Surges and the gifting of her power during worship is something she set in motion long ago, before going far away, wherever gods wander. Maybe she’s not intimately or directly involved in our realm anymore. As Malec said—she saved us, and we must now save ourselves.
