Page 142 of Atop the Faerie Throne
And the portal, the tear in the fabric of Faerie, is so much closer now. It fills my dizzy brain with the urge torunas far and fast as I can.
Someone gently lifts me away from whoever I’ve squashed in the tumble, and I want to apologise, but it’s hard because everycell in my body is begging me to get up and move in the opposite direction of the portal.
I start to warn the others, but a hand clamps over my mouth before I can get a word out.
Jaro’s shield dissipates, along with Drystan’s fire, leaving us in darkness and surrounded by stone. The only illumination is a thin beam of blue light emanating from a fissure on my left. A harsh sentence in Fomorian fills my ears, and I stiffen.
Another Fomorian answers, her voice lighter, like she’s making a joke.
There’s at least two of them.
Something slithers past my leg, and I relax as I realise it’s Bree’s nathair.
“Two, guarding some huge doors,” my púca whispers a second later. “I think we’re outside some kind of great hall. Those mushrooms are everywhere.”
“The portal is close,” I tell them, trusting him to hide the sound. “Is everyone okay?”
A wolfish lick to my face is all the answer I’ll get from Jaro, and Drystan is as predictably silent as ever. Bree mumbles something that sounds affirmative, but I get the sense that he’s focused more on what’s happening outside, and Caed…
“Caed?” I ask, softly, feeling past the pounding in my skull for his bond at the same time.
Frustration and pain greet me.
“What’s wrong with the Fomorian?” Bree asks, as I start to dig through the pile of fur, limbs, and scales in search of him.
When my hand finds clammy blue skin, I grimace. “Paralysed,” I murmur, digging for the tiny vials in my pouch.
I draw my hand back on a gasp of pain as I find sharp shards of glass in their place.
Broken? No. It can’t be.
My pouch must’ve been crushed in the fall.
“Does anyone have any more of the antidote?” My voice is thin with anxiety.
Drystan must notice my panic, because he summons the tiniest flame of light for me to see by. The others move away, giving me some space as I search my Fomorian’s motionless body for the wound.
There, just above his boot, is a puncture wound as large as my fist. The wyrm’s bite must’ve passed straight through the muscle of his calf.
Shit. It must’ve happened while he was running for us before the collapse.
Grasping my pouch, I check again for any surviving vials, only to grimace when my searching confirms my fears. The fabric is sodden, and nothing survived. Okay. That’s fine. I can still fix this.
The potions were supposed to save my energy, but now that we’re no longer in a battle, and Titania is free to help me, that’s not such an issue…
A voice, speaking Fomorian, breaks my concentration. It’s far closer than it was before. Are they going to discover us?
I dive for the flame in Drystan’s palm, covering it with my own without thought.
My palm sizzles. Curiously, the pain only really starts to register once he’s extinguished it in a rush. His anger lights up the bond between us as my eyes water, and I bite down so hard on the inside of my cheek that I taste blood.
Oh, even with no head, I know I’m getting spanked for that later. It was a dumb move, but in my defence, I can barely think right now.
The Fomorian voice sounds again, evencloser. I don’t dare breathe.
“Titania,” I mouth, relieved when she appears beside me. Her soft glow will be invisible to anyone else, and I hastily grab her hand, feeling for Caed’s wounded leg with my other.
The sticky wetness of his blood coats my palm once more. The muscle spasms beneath my touch.
