Agonized screeching, baying, and hissing filled the air. Horrified, Royce gasped as she tried to think. Many of the spikes had speared only the earth, but more than a few had speared giant rats.
One by one, the rats fell over. Dead, they must be dead. They looked dead, and their blood was pouring out of their wounds. Were the spikes poisonous? Why didn’t the rats know that? No time to contemplate their brain capacity, because now the monster was turning back towards her. Its black tongue came out of its mouth, a mouth which when opened displayed many rows of sharp teeth.
Royce stepped back as she watched it lick the air.
With a bellow of superiority it charged at her full speed, and she was sure she felt the earth tremble.
It was larger than a tank, and damn if on top of everything else not being enough, the ugly thing was breathing fire!
* * *
“Chancemont—what the hell just happened? Where is the wee princess?” his lordship MacBathe exclaimed as he looked at the Milesian and Trevor for an answer.
Chance didn’t have one, but bloody hell, he thought, he was damned if he wasn’t going to find one and right quick.
It had to have something to do with the Seelie Hallow. It must have been spelled. That was the only conclusion he could come up with that made any sense. He put out his hands and closed his eyes as he sought further information from the scent left behind in the air.
A small hole still remained in the atmosphere, and he worked it, called on his inner powers to widen it and keep it open.
Long ago, when the Milesians were still partially human—not immortals as they had become over time and generations, leaders amongst their clans had been skilled with Light Magic and used it in many forms. His father and he were the last of those men …
When the Tuatha Dé Danaan’s (Fae) Danu was destroyed, particles had exploded and scattered over the Earth, but for some inexplicable reason an extremely large deposit was found in Chance’s village. They used it, fertilized their soil with it, made their mead with it, breathed it in, and passed it down through the generations.
The day arrived when they realized their plan had worked. They had absorbed Fae powers through the Danu dust they had been breathing and from the crops they had eaten. They knew they were immortal and magical. It was then that they decided to take back their beloved Ireland and Scotland from the Fae.
They had over the years before this watched the Fae and learned their spells, watched their style with shifting and learned a few other abilities quite by accident.
They were a determined breed.
Determination to maintain the portal that had taken his princess drove Chance. He chanted the ancient spell he knew so well, and a swirl of dark mist appeared.
He turned and grinned at his friend MacBathe. “Aye then … I’ll have her back in no time!”
Trevor, however, was not being left behind and jumped through the portal after him. Chance grinned and laughed heartily as they were spit through the dark abyss.
Chance parted the atmosphere as they stepped through and said quietly, “The air is thick here—too thick … have to adjust our breathing …”
“Aye … but what is this place?”
“Not sure, but it has the scent of Fae … Seelie Fae …” Chance frowned as he looked around himself.
Trevor took a long whiff, and his eyebrows went up with his surprise. “My queen was here—centuries ago.”
“Aye, but she didn’t create the black magic surrounding everything—och no, Trev, that would be m’old friend who did that.”
“The Fallen Druid,” said Trev.
“Aye then … but that isn’t the only thing we need to worry about, lad. We are mortal in this dimension.”
“What?” Trevor shouted and then lowered his voice. “How do you know?”
“I feel it,” Chance said, pounding his chest, “in here—doona ye feel it?”
“Yes, I do feel different, hell and by Danu. Let’s get Red and get out of here!”
Chance grinned, and they began walking towards a shadowy building in the distance. A huge stone fortress came fully into view, and Chance studied it as they walked. “No windows—what sort of place is that?”
“A prison,” said Trevor.