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ChapterOne
“Duncan!”I scream.
My ears pop as the portal snaps shut. I run forward; the open ground is littered with debris, the remnants of the black hole that was sucking everything into the dark realms.
“Quinn, no,” Dugald calls, but I ignore him.
Duncan and Rob were taken through that portal and I’m going to save them. I reach for magic, but what responds isn’t what I expect. The magical energy that comes is different, darker, and feels nasty and wrong. It’s contaminated like an oil slick. I recoil as it answers my call, and the revulsion makes me gag.
Shouts twist into screams that reverberate in my head and force my attention away from the empty space where Duncan disappeared. Dugald arrives at my side and grabs my arm, trying to pull me away.
“Quinn, move, come on, we have to get out of here,” he says.
“Not without Duncan,” I say, jerking my arm free.
“He’s gone,” Dugald says. “I’m sorry, but you can’t save him.”
“I can, I will. No, I must.”
“Quinn, look.” He points, and I follow where he is indicating.
This was a battlefield, a conflict between the MacGregors and the English garrison who were fighting alongside the Lowland Clans, but that was before I killed the Commander. The dark portal may have closed, but it didn’t take the darkness with it.
Dark tendrils, like tree roots made of smoke, race across the land, and when they contact a body, human or Fae, they latch on, invading and making them a host. Each person touched becomes twisted, dark, like a horror from the mind of H.P. Lovecraft.
“What’s happening?”
“The darkness, it’s free,” Dugald says. “We must retreat. Now.”
More people are being touched by the dark. They twist and scream in terror as they become a monster. Those already infected are attacking those who aren’t. Those untouched are trying to flee, but some try to fight. Forgotten are the former lines of Scotsmen or English. The only goal now is survival.
Dugald pulls on my arm again and I know he wants to get me to safety, but I can’t leave these people. I can’t use magic, not here, because if I do, I’ll bring the darkness into myself. Desperation makes my stomach roil as I look around for some way to help.
I spy a horn that lies on the ground two strides away. It has gold filigree around the open edge that catches the dim light and glitters, calling me to it. I pull free of Dugald and run, dropping to my knees and sliding. I grab the horn and lift it to my lips and blow.
The horn splutters, emitting a weak sound that rallies no one. Dugald runs to my side and grabs the horn, jerking it from my hands. He gives me a look that lets me know he thinks I’m crazy, but I’m not going to let that override my gratitude. I won’t leave these people behind.
Dugald raises the horn to his lips as I stand. His cheeks puff out, then he blows. A clear, beautiful note rings out across the fields. It’s a sweet note, a sound of hope, and I swear everyone on the field stops, good and bad guys alike, if only for an instant, and they turn to the sound. Dugald sounds the note again.
“Retreat!” I yell as the humans and the untouched Fae rally to the sound.
The monstrosities press their advantage, but the survivors resist with the beginnings of organization. The least wounded help the worse off to retreat, and the able move to stand side by side.
“There, come on,” Dugald says, lowering the horn. “You’ve done your duty; let me do mine. I must get you out of here.”
“No.” I shake my head. “We have to get the survivors out of here.”
The monstrosities aren’t only killing the survivors. They’re destroying. Everything. They aren’t organized in any visible way, but more forces of chaos. Each creature is bent on utter destruction. Several of them are marching on Inverness and I know the result will be catastrophic.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Dugald says.
“I can,” I say.
“You can what, Quinn? The darkness has tainted all magic. We must get to the Fair Queen. She has a plan and without it, we lose.”
“I have an idea.”
Sort of. Half an idea.
