Treasure Ch. 11

"Be very careful with what you say next," Kai said, "lest I mistake your confusion for ingratitude."

"But weren't you afraid of this?" Catherine protested, and Kai's eyes narrowed, just a little. "Weren't you worried at all that---"

"Careful," she said. That word slithered out from between her teeth in a hiss. Catherine's mouth snapped shut. Kai seemed to be caught in a terrible internal struggle, but eventually, the tension in her body dissipated and she was right back to her calm, magnificent self. "I told him to protect you," she continued, like her outburst had never happened, "because the world doesn't take kindly to those who stray from the common path. It weathers them down, attacks them from all sides..." She closed her eyes. "We shared a similar struggle. I hoped we could help each other."

"But I didn't help you at all," Catherine whispered. Her chest felt so heavy. It was an effort to squeeze each word from her throat.

"You did all that you could. I'm sure of it. Jiro never fled from battle, even when he should have." She stared wearily down at his body. "He was doomed to die from the beginning. I just hoped it wouldn't be so soon. I'm going to be very...lonely without him." Her eyes were strangely bright, and Catherine ached at the sight of them.

"I'm so sorry." Kai looked away from her and shook her head.

"I'd like to be alone."

Catherine quickly wobbled to her feet, rubbing her eyes hard. She gripped the wall for balance as she stumbled forward, far out of Kai's sight, but as she dropped down to sit by the ledge of the plateau, something caught her eye in the distance.

Dread made her body weak. Behind the rows of the Alliance---which were already menacing enough in size---another mass of black shapes had appeared. A figure clad in silver armor and mounted on an enormous black horse lifted a sword that glittered blindingly in the sunlight. Before Catherine could muster up the strength to scream a warning, she noticed the pointed prongs of stag antlers protruding from the figure's helmet. The sword fell forward in a graceful arc, and dark, slithering chaos tumbled forth to join the skirmish.

Hundreds of figures---ranging from Niallian-sized specks to lumbering giants---fell upon the human warriors. Claws shredded armor and severed heads; teeth closed over arteries and tore; wooden arrows still studded with twigs and leaves plunged through the gaps in breastplates and into helmets. A bee-like swarm descended upon the soldiers manning the trebuchet in a dark cloud, leaving nothing but a motionless pile of bodies once it had dissipated. The figure on horseback slung twin swords as he surged forward, felling men in spades. They were all trampled like grapes as the horrifying procession of creatures followed him.

The Unseelie court had arrived.

Catherine cracked a strange little smile, and before she could stop herself, she was cackling wildly far above all the carnage. She didn't know why she was laughing. It could have been from relief, or exhaustion, or horror, or resignation---or some combination of each---but she laughed and laughed until new tears were streaming in rivers down her cheeks.

It was over.

It was all finally over.

---

"Lady Catherine," a voice said from high above her.

Catherine tilted her head back to study the helmeted figure who was looming over her. He sheathed his swords with a flourish and removed his horned helmet. Black hair tumbled out from the confines of the armor, and then she was looking right up into King Finvarra's pallid eyes. A thin silver circlet was wound over his brow. Below the cliff face, a black swarm of fey was still running wild over the battlefield; snatching up wounded survivors and dragging them away into dark corners, grappling with a few remaining men who were attempting to fend them away. The dragons and a few allied soldiers were busy chasing the rest down the mountain.

"Your Majesty," she said. Then, she winced. "I would bow to you, but---"

"You are wounded, and I can still recall how delightfully my Lady curtsies when she is able." He gave her a vicious smile. "Otherwise I would mount your head upon my wall as a reminder of your insolence."

Catherine, finding herself spent of horror, only bowed her head. "As you say, Your Majesty."

"Did all of your little arrows rain certain death upon the enemy?" he inquired, leaning one arm heavily against the mountain wall. There was blood smeared over his upper lip and his hair was a tangled mane around his face. She hadn't thought that he was even capable of being disheveled, but it only made him appear wilder, fiercer, more dangerous.

"And my sword, Majesty." He kept his eyes fixed upon her face as she regarded him wearily from beneath her lashes. "I tried to slay them all as you requested, but I'm afraid you made that very difficult for me," she added, struggling to keep her tone bright. Her voice was still a little ragged from screaming and laughing and crying and everything else. Finvarra let out a bark of laughter.

"And it was very well that I did," he chuckled. "There were more men stationed beneath the cliffs, waiting to overwhelm you when your numbers had dwindled. I disposed of them to spare my Lady from tears." He suddenly clutched at his heart in a mournful gesture, but when he spoke, his voice was still bright with cheer. "But I see now that a fiend has stained my Lady's eyes red despite my efforts, and torn her clothes asunder..."

Catherine gazed up at him miserably and prayed that she wouldn't start crying again as she spoke. "I only mourned that his death did not come at my hand, Your Majesty, for ruining my lovely dress," she said. Her voice cracked a little, and she hated herself for it. Finvarra leaned closer and lowered his voice.

"Would that all the birds in the land could sing as prettily as you lie, my dear Catherine." Catherine watched him carefully, hoping that she hadn't offended him, but the smile stayed affixed to his lips. "You all fought well. My court does not often dance in the light of day, but we were proud to fight at your side. I eagerly await the day that you might do the same for me."

"It would be our honor," Catherine said quickly. "We all owe you our lives, Your Majesty, and I---" He lifted a hand, and she immediately silenced herself.

"Do not indebt yourself so easily. There are those who would take advantage." He bent at the waist in a shallow bow, and his pale eyes glittered as they rose to meet hers. "It has been a pleasure, Lady Catherine."

Catherine's mouth was suddenly very dry. She swallowed, but dipped her head down low until her breath played over the surface of the rock. "To say the least, Your Majesty. I hope we meet again."

He cocked his head to the side as he rose back up. "I'm quite certain that we will."

Despite the thick layer of numbness that had blanketed her brain, Catherine felt thoroughly unsettled as she watched the Unseelie King stride down the hill to join his kin. A squat, hairless creature with pointy ears and a domed head studied her from its perch on the wall below her, and it drew back its thin lips and hissed when she met its eye. Its mouth was a round hole bristling with teeth, and she shuddered when she observed the pink stains at the tips. The Unseelie fey made magnificent allies and, doubtlessly, even more spectacular foes. Catherine was suddenly very thankful that the legion of monsters was on her side...and not anyone else's.

"Shoo," she said, and it gave her a reproachful look before bounding down the mountain.

Despite their overwhelming victory, there were still several dragons sprawled out below the plateau; twitching weakly, run through with weapons or seeping worrying amounts of blood. Figures were flocking towards the bodies with what appeared to be a spectrum of motives. A group of men in armor like Jiro's were gathered around one dragon and prying a massive arrow from its shoulder, but further down, Catherine spotted a smiling swarm of squat fey with red hats scurrying towards a silver dragon who was little more than a scaly island in an ocean of blood, and who didn't seem to be moving.

Catherine wobbled to her feet as a slew of dragons began to appear on the hillside, her heartbeat quickening almost painfully from hope. She scanned the crowd below her, looking for the familiar flash of green scales or a shock of white hair, and then, gritting her teeth, began to descend from her perch on the plateau. Her feet skidded here and there on the gravel and her grip on the mountain wall made her shattered wrist sing with agony, but after a brief struggle, she made it down onto the battlefield.

Roane was crouched near the base of the plateau, clutching his right wrist to his chest. When she approached him, he tucked that claw firmly beneath his left elbow. Catherine gasped when she saw fresh blood coursing down his arm.

"Roane!" she choked, hurrying to his side. He gazed down at the ground, looking so thoroughly depressed that Catherine put her hands on his enormous, scaly knee in concern. "Roane," she said again, much softer this time, "are you alright?"

He turned those doleful eyes towards her, withdrew his talons from the confines of his arm and held them up. Next to the short nub that had once been his index finger was another stump, freshly severed and spurting weak little gouts of blood.

"Who ever heard of a dragon with eight fingers?" he asked softly. Catherine's heart sank, and she threw her arms around his leg and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Her fingertips didn't even touch on the other side.

"Perhaps it will grow back," she said, and he shook his enormous head.

"It won't. The other one didn't."

"Oh, Roane," she sighed, and he blinked lugubriously down at her. "I'm so sorry. But you're a wonderful dragon, and I...I think you'll do just fine with eight fingers. I've always thought I had too many, really."

"You know, I often felt the same way. But I would have rather gotten rid of the little ones---they don't do much good, do they? This one..." He gazed sadly at the bloody nub. "...Well. I thought this one was quite useful."

She leaned her forehead miserably against his leg. Everything was so awful. She didn't think she could handle any more awfulness. "I wish we could find new fingers for you," she said. A massive set of red claws descended to pat her on the head---gently for a dragon, Catherine assumed, although her knees still buckled slightly from the impact. Once she had steadied herself, she bit her lip. "I...I don't suppose---have you seen---?"

Roane's face brightened with a disconcerting suddenness. "Adeon? Oh, yes. He's quite alright, I think. He went down the mountain with the others." He winced. "You know, I don't think he'll be pleased to see you here..."

Catherine forced a smile onto her face. "I'm sure it's perfectly safe now," she said. "I should go to him. But I'm sure I could tend to your hand first, if---"

"That's awfully kind of you, Catherine---awfully kind---but I've found that these things have a way of sorting themselves out," he interrupted in a matter-of-fact voice, breaking off to run his tongue gingerly over the mangled stump. Catherine felt herself grow weak when she saw the blood gush over his tongue, and she quickly drew away from his leg.

"If you say so," she said. Roane gave her a gloomy wave as she turned to leave. Almost immediately, a flash of white caught her eye from a nearby crevasse, and she bounded towards it as quickly as she could on her abused ankle. "Ade---oh," she said as she rounded the corner. "I...thought you had left." Cael gave her an annoyed look from over his shoulder. He had Lucia pinned by the wrists to the wall in front of him, and her curvaceous legs were bare and wrapped tightly around his waist. There was a lazy smile on her face. Catherine's eyebrows rose high up into her hairline.

"Don't you have something better to do?" he snapped, and Catherine, who realized she had been staring, turned pink and hurried away.

She soon found herself weaving through a procession of dragons. Although many of them parted to give her room to advance, she was still forced to dodge wayward footfalls here and there and step over dragging tails. A few lowered their heads to glower down at her as she passed, and she looked away. Centuries of animosity weren't going to be simply erased by allying with humans in a brief battle, and Catherine wasn't quite sure she could survive another attack from a dragon with a grudge. She wondered for a horrible moment if any of them knew what had become of Grindel. But, by the grace of some smiling deity, she passed through the crowd of creatures without any incident. Adeon was still nowhere to be seen.

The toe of her boot connected with something heavy and metallic, and she paused to watch a plate of armor skid forward with the whine of metal on rock. It was caked with patches of dried blood, and Catherine cringed. The whole world seemed to be soaked with gore---impossible amounts of it. Part of her wondered if the mountains would just stay red forever.

Before she could step over the piece of armor, however, five inches of buzzing fury zipped past her ear and slammed into the plate with a thunk. A Niallian-sized soldier---blue-skinned and clad in armor that looked as if it might have been made from intricately-carved walnut shells---clung to the silver plate and bared its teeth in a hiss.

"Mine!" it scolded in a high-pitched voice. "It's mine, I found it, I found it, I found it!"

Catherine flinched back. "I wasn't..." she began, but the fairy let loose another burst of angry chatter.

"Thieving girl, stupid girl, stupid greedy girl---"

"I don't want it!" she snapped, and it fixed its beady black eyes upon her and frowned. Then, satisfied, it scuttled off of the plate and began a hasty inspection of its new trophy. With a sigh, Catherine made to move forward, but the fairy withdrew a needle-like blade and brandished it at her.

"Mine!" it repeated shrilly. Catherine resisted the urge to punt the tiny creature over the side of the mountain and instead crossed her arms, watching the fairy sheathe its sword and move to the side of the plate. Then, with a series of grunts, it began to heave it backwards. Catherine waited, chewing fiercely at her lip, but after several minutes, the fairy had only managed to drag it a couple of inches.

"Oh, Gods above," she groaned, and then she stooped down and grabbed the armor. The fairy dangled from the edge of it, screaming more verbal abuse in a muted squeak as she carried it back towards the edge of the battlefield. When she set the plate down near a boulder, the little warrior lunged at her with a snap. Catherine jerked her fingers out of his reach and scowled at him. "You're an ungrateful little brute and I hope something steps on you," she said.

"Go away! Go away! Stupid girl! Ugly, stupid---"

"You're quite welcome." Catherine made to turn away, but when the fairy clambered off of the plate, the sunlight shone on of a strip of gold that was glittering on its other side.

Ice-cold fingers grabbed her heart and squeezed.

"Wait," she said, lurching onto her knees and seizing the piece of armor. The fairy sprang into action and leapt towards her, but Catherine brushed it away, her limbs heavy as she turned the plate in her hands. She saw herself in the polished steel; saw her jaw go slack with understanding, saw her face grow sickly-pale. "Where did you find this?" she whispered.

The fairy clambered up onto her knee, filled up its lungs, and began to shriek anew. "It's mine it's mine it's mine it's mine---"

"Where?" Catherine screamed suddenly, and the fairy leapt backwards in surprise. "Where did you find it?!" The creature regarded her distrustfully for several minutes, then hopped down from her knee.

"Junk, cheap, don't want it anyway," it grumbled. Catherine watched it turn away from her with a terrible feeling of helplessness.

"Please tell me," she said, but the fairy took to the air and buzzed away on glossy black wings.

---

Adeon trudged through the slough of carnage, teeth clenched, feeling the wet rock stick against the pads of his claws. Every step sent a fresh peal of pain through his left shoulder, which boasted a wide gash from an enemy sword. Blood was still flowing thickly down his arm, but he pressed on. He was certainly far from any sort of mortal injury, and he was also far from Catherine, and he needed to know that she was alright, and she needed to know that he was alright before she wandered onto the battlefield and found herself in the company of something unpleasant. Paltry flesh wounds could wait.

The whole mountain was still seething with movement even after their victory. Unseelie knights mounted upon infernal-looking black steeds filed past him in a steady line while their kin swarmed around the carrion like scavenging birds: rifling purses, dragging bodies, splitting bones. Throughout his years Adeon was certain that he had observed more gruesome scenes, although one did not immediately come to mind. As he limped towards the foot of the plateau, a tall woman with copper hair turned to watch his approach.

Adeon paused. Sher was knelt in front of a bloody heap of scales that glittered like brass in the sunlight. Somewhere in the mass of blood and scales and gore, Adeon saw a massive purple eye staring out into nowhere. A reptilian jaw gaped slackly, displaying rows of curving teeth. A stream of red trickled down a swollen tongue.

There was nothing in Sher's expression. It was a terrible sort of nothing. She never uttered a syllable, but Adeon knew. He could see the accusation in the line of her lips, the tension of her jaw.

He bowed his head, never severing their gaze, and Sher turned back to the remains of her brother. With a grimace, he continued his steady procession towards the cliff face.

He ascended the incline gracelessly and with a little difficulty, but ascended it nonetheless. Several dragons had gathered to the side in a motley throng of scales and bare flesh, and Adeon was content to lumber past the lot of them until he caught a violent flash of red peeking out from between the mass of bodies. At first he was surprised, then incredulous, and then came an inescapable feeling of dread. There had been hordes of dragons guarding the cavern entrance, doubtlessly frenzied to defend what little treasure they had left to hide there. Nothing could have possibly---

Adeon was only half-aware that he had begun shoving through the wall of bodies. Members of the crowd barked out shouts as he shouldered roughly past them, but they fell on deaf ears. With one last push, he lurched forward into the middle of the circle and met a pair of upturned azure eyes.

"Worry not," Kai said. "You won't find her here."

She was lounging on a boulder near the rock wall, her body cloaked in her deep blue mane. Blood streaked her skin like war paint. Two corpses were sprawled out in front of her, nearly unidentifiable save for bloodstained robes and a single, golden eye that glittered out from the carnage. Adeon froze when he saw that amber stare.

"Wha---" he began, but she closed her eyes and lifted a hand to halt him. With the other, she rubbed hard at her temple before she spoke again.

"Grindel was a traitor," she said wearily. "I can think of few things more disgraceful than turning upon those who dared to give us their aid." Her eyes narrowed as several members of the crowd snarled at her words.

"Is this what we've come to?" a green dragon demanded. Adeon recognized the puckering scar beneath one of his eyes. "Murdering one another for the sake of humans?"

"Humans who were willing to risk their lives for our own. It seemed fitting at the time, although I have been known to act rashly." She leaned forward, her eyes bright with malice. "Did I act rashly, Driskell?" she murmured.