F oster’s firestorm faded, and our group’s attention slowly turned toward the downed Green Man. He still hadn’t regained his feet, but his emerald eyes were wide, aware and staring, fixated on Foster.
“Noble one,” Aideen said, “why did you attack us? Why did you attack the Demon Sword of the Royal Court, son of the Sanatio of the city?”
The bark-like flesh of the Green Man showed what I could only describe as a frown. Layers of flesh shifted as his mouth slowly opened. “The word of the Demon Sword himself told me there was an imposter here.”
“Clearly I didn’t.” Foster pinched the flat of his blade and ran his fingers down it, clearing the edge of blood and ash. “And you were wrong.”
“You must tell us who sent you,” Aideen said. “Our lives, and those of all who stand against the king, are at risk.”
Aideen certainly hadn’t exaggerated about our lives being in danger. I did wonder if our lives being at risk, or our dying, would affect the lives of all who stood with us. Even if it didn’t, it still put the lives of all humans in front of a homicidal king.
The Green Man considered Aideen’s words. He slowly sat up, bark and broken branches cascading from the left side of his body where I had struck him with the Fist of Anubis. “I did not know. One of Stump’s most trusted advisors, an old friend, an ancient Green Man, told us that the imposter would be here. I do not understand why he is not.”
“The imposter is dead,” Foster said, indicating the pile of ash with his sword.
“Please,” Aideen said, drawing the Green Man’s attention away from Foster. “We need to know who told you this.”
The Green Man hesitated. “He does not have a human name, like Stump does. Many of our people have taken human names.”
I didn’t really consider Stump a human name, but perhaps to an ancient and immortal tree, that was as human as it got.
Zola circled behind the Green Man, her forehead wrinkling as she peered into the woods and back.
The Green Man continued. “He was crowned with flowers, a unique feature I have not often seen in my many years, though Green Men like him were once known to roam the lands around what is now named Kansas City. It is a smaller city, a sub-city.” The Green Man frowned. “I do not believe that is the word used for your sub-cities, and it is not the heart of the city; it is the smaller city around the heart of the city.”
“Your point?” Foster said, impatience showing plainly on his face.
“I do not know the Green Men around Kansas City anymore. Perhaps one of them can tell you more about the imposter Demon Sword.”
Foster splayed his fingers out across his silver chest plate. “I am the Demon Sword.”
The Green Man stared at Foster’s armor for a time before nodding.
“The imposter is dead,” Foster said, pointing again at the charred corpse on the nearby earth.
The Green Man stared at that circle of death for a time before he said, “That is not the armor of the imposter. The imposter is said to wear the brilliant silver of—”
“I think that’s enough of that,” a voice said as a sword exploded through the Green Man’s face. I caught a glimpse of silver armor before the Green Man burst into a hellish, swirling fireball. The Green Man’s scream grated against my ears, drilling his horror into my mind before thunder sounded, the shattering of a tree trunk as if impacted by a cannonball. The Green Man’s flesh charred and popped and exploded, sending tiny splinters to ricochet off Foster’s armor as the fairy backpedaled.
I raised a shield and watched the edges of the fire, waiting for something to circle around. Waiting for something to attack us. I was half blind from the inferno, and it would be almost impossible to see anything until it faded. But the attack didn’t come from around the flames. It came from within it.
Had Foster not been between me and that fireball, and the white-hot sword lancing out, I might have had issues.
Foster roared as he deflected the newcomer’s blade. In one smooth motion, he sent the sword skittering along his own cuirass before ramming the hilt of his sword into the face of the other fairy. The attacker stumbled backward, surprise lit across his now-bloody face.
Zola fired off two bolts of flame as Aideen dove from above, her sword angled to remove the attacker’s head.
The fairy threw himself to the ground, avoiding the bolts of fire and the sword meant for his neck. He sprang back to his feet an instant later.
I drew the pepperbox and leveled it at Foster’s back. “Foster, left.”
The fairy didn’t hesitate. He threw himself to the side. As soon as my line of sight cleared, I fired. The round clipped the attacker’s shoulder, but his armor was powerful enough to deflect the bullet. That showed us in an instant that it was no ordinary armor.
The fairy had barely recoiled, as if someone had merely punched him in the shoulder instead of shot him. He grinned at me. “I think that’s enough of that.”
He shot into the air, bringing his sword up in a backward arc. The motion opened a red wound in reality and the fairy vanished through it.
Foster and Aideen stared up into the sky.
“Did you see it?” Foster asked.
Aideen nodded. “He wears the armor of the Mad King.”
“Who was that?” Zola asked.
Foster took a deep breath, and his nostrils flared. “Drake.”
“Drake died in the Wandering War,” Aideen said, her brow creasing.
Foster’s eyes trailed down from the evening sky and focused on Aideen. “It wouldn’t be the first thing Nudd lied to us about.”
“You gave me a name,” Zola said, “but that doesn’t answer my question.”
Foster wiped off his sword and nodded. The metal rang against the scabbard until the hilt slammed home. “Drake was an owl knight.”
“How did he call that magic if he’s not a Demon Sword?” I asked. Foster had never been overly forthcoming about his abilities as a Demon Sword. I could understand why. The abilities of the Fae court were some of the most closely guarded secrets in their world.
“Drake is said to be descended from dragons,” Aideen said. “It’s an old story, from an older time.”
“Descended from dragons?” Zola said, a hint of amusement in her voice. “I suspect Jasper would have an opinion on that.”
“Drake was fireborn,” Foster said. He glanced from Zola to me and squeezed the hilt of his sword. “You know most Fae cannot use line arts the way a mage can. Our powers are more organic, tied to our natures, and some would say our souls.”
“You have the power to heal,” I said. “I would think that says very good things for your soul.”
“And yet we can die from it,” Aideen said. “Destroyed by the very thing you think to be so pure.”
A memory flashed through my mind. That terrible moment in the Burning Lands when I had failed, failed by accomplishing our goals, springing a trap that Nudd had set in motion. I remembered Cara’s screams, and the last time I’d ever seen her.
“I know,” I said. “And I wish she was here now.”
“So, is Drake Nudd’s assassin?” Zola asked. “It would seem unwise to attack us as a group. Ah would expect more from one of Nudd’s elites.”
“It could’ve been a show,” Aideen said. “It’s clear the Green Man knew something, and Drake needed to silence him.”
“Drake opened a portal,” I said. “Does that tell you anything?”
Aideen nodded. “He’s descended from the court to some degree. No one can simply step into the Warded Ways without a fixed entrance, unless the court’s blood runs in their veins.”
“If I have learned one thing,” Zola said, “it is this: when dealing with the Fae, we cannot assume the answer is one or the other. He may have come here for us. He may have come here for the Green Man. Or he may simply have come here for the soldiers they killed. I suspect the answer lies with all three.”
Foster nodded and blew out a sharp breath. “You’re right. Killing the soldiers and making it look like me breeds hostility, or at least distrust, between us and the military.”
“And because we live inside Damian’s shop,” Aideen said, “the military is far more likely to distrust him. I don’t like to ponder what the situation would be if it was not for Frank’s relationship with Park. I only hope it’s enough.”
“We need to find them,” I said. “Park needs to know what happened here.”
Something slithered through the grass behind me. My heart hammered in my chest. I raised a shield as I turned to face the sound.