After a few moments, they subsided and the circle opened, leaving the pile of tattered grey cloth and the weapons, where they fell.
“It is done,” said one from the circle, now arrayed in a semi-circle around the three remaining members of the High Court.
“Finally,” said Altair.
“What about the rest of them?” asked Krane.
“The Warders are no more,” said Altair. “Fionh and Fellstamp are gone. Slimgrin is missing, along with Mellion. Amber and Mishla are all that remain and they are not enough to stand against us. Without Garvin to lead them they will fall.”
“Then the day is ours,” said Krane.
“Ours?” said Altair. “There is still much to do, but the day will never be ours.”
“What do you mean?” asked Teoth.
Altair walked forward through the semi-circle of ghostly figures outlined in a nimbus of white fire. “Your record does not serve you well,” he said.
“But we delivered Garvin to you,” protested Teoth.
“Yes,” said Altair. “You betrayed him, just as you betrayed me long ago. Just as you would betray me as soon as I turn my back.”
“But we trusted you!” said Krane.
“As I trusted you,” said Altair, “even while you were planning my downfall. You know what to do,” he said.
Even as the semi-circle started to close, the ground beneath the hall began to tremble as Teoth reached down with fingers outstretched to the ground. Krane’s form shifted, becoming more feral, with elongated eyebrows, fingers more like claws, teeth lengthening into fangs.
Four new figures stepped forward into the ring around the two. Their clothes were the colour of ash, their eyes cold grey. From them, a darkness deeper than any shadow spread forward, initially slowly and then running across the floor like water.
Eager to escape the spreading blackness, Krane leapt at one from the ring of shadows, half-man, half-beast, and twice the size with claws extended and long fangs bared. The figure went down under that onslaught but the others moved in and the were-creature was unceremoniously hacked, stabbed and sliced by the swords gathered around.
Teoth watched in horror and shrank back. The foundations of the building vibrated to his summons. From the earth below the hall a huge figure burst upwards through the floor, rising with ponderous implacability, splintering floorboards and crashing its blunt head into beams. Vaguely man-shaped with a blank earthen face, its maw opened with a gravelly roar, sand spilling from its open mouth while its mighty arm swept at the ring of shadows, the swordsmen falling back before the assault of mud and stone.
Not so the grey shades, who stood their ground and shifted into insubstantial mist. The huge stone fist passed right through them while the blackness reaching for Teoth advanced as he tried to climb the wall away from it. The blackness spread up his legs and thighs, chest and head, enveloping him.
Teoth screamed and crashed to the floor, thrashing blindly and choking as the darkness entered his mouth, nose and eyes, He thrashed briefly, kicking out at nothing. The huge earthen shape wavered back and forth, flailing its arms, staggering blind, then fell apart, tumbling into crashing mounds, crumbling into rubble, slipping back into the hole it had risen from, even as Teoth spasmed on the floor and was still. The four figures watched as Teoth’s body collapsed into dust no different from that drifting in the air. Then they kicked what was left into the hole after the rest of the dirt.
Outside, figures emerged into the moonlight, patting their clothes and spitting grit and sand. “Is it done?” asked Altair.
“Who would have thought the old bastard still had the power to raise an elemental?” asked Deefnir.
“It didn’t help him,” said Altair.
“Shame about the hall,” said Raffmir, looking back. “I rather liked what they’d done with it.” The roof sagged where it had been weakened and tiles slipped from the roof to clatter noisily into the yard below.
“Don’t get too attached to anything,” said Altair. “By the time we’re finished they’ll be burning anything they can find just to hold back the dark.”
“Ah,” said Raffmir, with a sigh. “Just like old times.”
There was a stillness in the room. For a moment I thought no one would step forward. Then Andy moved forward out of the crowd. “It is my wish to be first,” he said. “Though I do not know what is expected.”
“Come forward,” said Blackbird, “and bare your wrist.”
A space cleared in front of Blackbird as people drew back. I stepped forward into that space and drew my sword. Andy looked worried then, but slipped out of his jacket and passed it to the woman in the orange dress to hold. As he stepped forward he unbuttoned his cuff and pulled back the cuff.
“Hold out your wrist,” said Blackbird.
“You’ll be able to sew it back on afterwards, right?” said Andy to me, joking. A murmur of nervous laughter rippled through the room.
“You can close your eyes if it helps,” I told him. His eyes met mine and held them.
It was with a moment of trepidation that I readied myself. A mistake at this point would be a bad moment, and no one else would volunteer after Andy. In a single fluid movement, I lift the sword and cut swiftly downwards, stopping the blade over Andy’s bare wrist. He looked momentarily relieved and then paled as a line of red welled across his wrist. It was the moment when I acknowledged that all those hours of sword practice had been worth it.
“Taste it,” said Blackbird, “and stand before me.”
Andy turned and lifted his wrist and pressed it to his lips, sucking the blood from the long cut.
“By your blood do you swear to serve the Gifted Court until released of your bond?” asked Blackbird.
“I do,” said Andy. I could feel the power building in the room.
“By your heart, will you abide by the rulings of the Gifted Court, for better or worse, even until life or death?” she asked.
“I will.” My own mouth watered at the memory of the taste of blood.
“By your mind, will you become an embodiment of the honour of the Gifted Court, always remembering your place in it, and its place in you?”
“I will,” he said.”
“By your power, will you seek to protect the Gifted Court, its Lady, and all its members, even unto the cost of your own life?” said Blackbird.
“I will,” said Andy.
Blackbird offered her hand and Andy gave the hand with the cut on the wrist to her. She pressed her other hand over the wound and when she removed it there was no trace of the cut, or the blood.
“Be welcome into the Gifted Court, The Eighth Court of the Feyre,” she said.
Applause broke out around the room, and Andy turned around and beamed at everyone, relieved that I hadn’t accidentally chopped his hand off at the wrist. After that they came forward, initially in ones and twos, but then a line formed. Each of them was sworn into the court, one after another. Each tasted their own blood, and with each taste, the sense of power in the room built.
At one point I briefly looked for Alex in the line, but she was not there. I found myself angry and disappointed after what she had said, but then had to push all those thoughts to one side when the next cut was a little strong and that much deeper. A gasp went down the line, and there was a degree of hesitancy in the next in line. After that I centred myself completely in the moment, focusing, as in a battle, only on what was in front of me.