We counted down, with Ulean guiding us through me. And then she told us we were on the grounds, and there was an insurgence of movement as snow weavers appeared on the front lines, backed up by the ghostly figures of Shadow Hunters caught in glimpses through the strengthening blizzard.
The snow and mist were so thick that we could only fight whoever was directly in front of us, and our warriors spread out, a core group surrounding Rhiannon and myself. Once again, I found myself chafing against the restrictions, but I also knew that for us to take down Myst, I had to stay alive. So I let myself be protected; I reined in my frustration and thought of the bigger picture. The fighting was a blur of snow and blood around me, and I longed to be doing something productive—something helpful.
Rhia tapped my shoulder, and I leaned close. “I know—I know what you’re feeling, but this is our life now. You have to bite the bullet on this one, Cicely. You know how much we need you later on.”
Grimacing, I wondered if I should have even come. We were tying up resources protecting us that could have been focused on fighting instead. Though our personal guards would have stayed home, it would have made things easier if we weren’t here. Unlike the Fae Queens of history, Rhia and I weren’t strong warrior women . . . yet. We were more liability than help.
“You should wipe that look off your face, Your Majesty.” Check leaned close, pressing his lips near my ear. “You look defeated. The men take their cues from you. You show depression, they will follow suit. We need you to stand tall, to claim your place and prove to us why we want you with us in the field.”
I cocked my head. “How’d you get inside my mind, Check?”
He grinned. “It’s my business to watch you, to anticipate your needs and moods. I’d be remiss in my duties if I didn’t pay attention to things like this. Now straighten your shoulders and rally the men. Encourage them. They will need all the encouragement you can give before this war is over.” He glanced over at Rhiannon. “And Mistress of Summer? Might you do the same.”
With a glance at Rhiannon, I shook away the lacework of frost and cobwebs that had been weaving their way in my mind and stood tall. Rhia followed suit. I wasn’t sure what a rallying cry might be, but then I decided we’d just have to do it my way. I wasn’t a warrior queen of old, I was Cicely, and I had to be myself—and that had to be enough.
“Beat the freaks back! Make spider stew out of them! You are my troops and you can do this. The snow weavers belong to Myst, and Myst’s ass belongs to me!”
Ulean caught my voice in her currents, sweeping it through the troops, sweeping it into the slipstream so it echoed through the schoolyard. It hung in the air for a moment, then shattered like crystal and my warriors surged forward again. The dead swarmed through the blinding snow, adding to the fray, and though I couldn’t see what was going on, the clashing of swords mingled with screams, and I knew our men were taking down the Shadow Hunters.
A few moments later, and I found myself moving on, Check and Fearless guiding us forward. We worked our way relentlessly toward the school. Ulean told me we were nearly there, and then—suddenly—we were at the doors, and they opened. My men surged forward, and the next moment, we were inside. The power still held, so entering the building, coming out of the storm, was like emerging into daylight from darkness. There was blood on the floor, but the halls were relatively empty. I remembered Ulean’s instructions.
“First hall to the left, first door on the right!” My voice echoed off the high ceiling and the empty corridors, and we moved in a wave. The dead went ahead of us. By the time we reached the hallway there were bodies littered everywhere: Shadow Hunters, their life force sucked out of them. Some still remained on foot, it seemed the dead could only feed so much, but my men made quick work of them, and when the last one fell, Olrick pounded on the door.
“Open in the name of Queen Cicely!”
A moment later, and Ysandra’s shaking voice called out, “Are you there, Cicely? Is it really you?”
I pushed to the front, Check and Fearless by my side. “Yes, it is me. We’re here.”
The door slammed open, and we took in the scene. Ysandra and her Elite Consortium Guard were standing watch over fourteen children. The windows were straining with the blows on the other side—Shadow Hunters and snow weavers, no doubt. Two of the Consortium witches were holding a force field—strained to the limit—that prevented them from breaking through, but they couldn’t hold it for much longer. The stress on their faces was horrible, lining their brows deep with the exertion.
Several of my men rushed forward and began escorting the children out. The rest formed a line at the wall of windows, readying their swords. The moment the force field broke, the Shadow Hunters would burst through into the building. As soon as everybody was out except for the guards, the Consortium witches dropped their spells and raced out of the way.
I watched from outside the door as the glass shattered and Shadow Hunters and snow weavers scurried through. At that moment, the dead swarmed in to help, and Check pulled the door shut, hurrying us away from the room. Ysandra looked exhausted, but she and two of her other elite joined hands. A moment later, a circle of protection rose around us, the energy undulating in concentric waves to encircle us, like ripples on a pond. A group of my guards surrounded them, protecting all of us from disturbance.
As seconds stretched into moments, we waited, poised to fall back. The sounds of fighting echoed from within the room, steel clanging, snarls and shrieks and growls. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer.
Ulean, please tell me what you can?
She swept past, vanishing into the room. A moment later she was back. Your men are winning. Hold fast—it should not be long now. But there are casualties on our side. The dead are working swiftly, but they can only feed so much before being satiated and unable to siphon off any more energy.
I wondered how that worked. I’d never had much interaction with spirits, or with ghosts—if there was even a difference between the two. Hell, I hadn’t even realized they could feed off the living. Unless these were very different from the typical Halloween ghost.
Another moment, and the door opened. Olrick stumbled out, bloody but alive, followed by the rest of our men and a swarm of the dead. The stench of blood ran thick from within the room and from what little I could see, the carnage was spread everywhere. It looked like a slaughterhouse.
“Did we lose anyone?” I gritted my teeth, praying the answer wouldn’t be too bad.
“Four men dead, and one seriously wounded. Considering the odds, not a heavy loss. We cleaved down thirty-five Shadow Hunters and a dozen or more snow weavers.” Olrick did his best to salute without splattering me with blood—he was slick with it, but still managed to present himself properly.
I nodded. Four dead still hurt, but I had to get used to thinking in terms of relative victories. “Very good.” I glanced around. “I suppose we should get the hell out of here. We need to get the children safely away.”
“You are correct. With all respect, Your Majesty, we can’t waste more time here. Myst, no doubt, has still larger forces in the town, and while we have been victorious so far, the storm is worsening. We should fall back and regroup, and yes—guide these children to safety.” Olrick punctuated his words with a formal bow.
“You’re correct. Let’s get back to the Veil House while we are all still in one piece—well, mostly all.” I closed my eyes. Ulean, are you here?
Yes, Cicely. What do you need?