Daylight only illuminates the first dozen steps as the ssythlans retreat into the gloom ahead of us. Yet, it isn’t pitch black, for behind them, I can see a faint light shaped like …

  I was right. The World Gate is here.

  The ssythlan warriors back away as we advance down a huge tunnel. There are no passages or archways leading off, just massive rocks lining the walls, some of which have been smoothed or strengthened by magic. The rest are scarred by pickaxe or hammer, and it occurs to me this isn’t an existing gate tunnel that’s been expanded.

  The massive piles of debris outside the walls are a clue to this jigsaw. This had never been a castle but was instead a giant stone barricade to prevent the fey from coming through the gate. Over the last few weeks, the ssythlan mages and engineers must have made this tunnel themselves through rock that was laid here a millennia ago.

  ‘Just a moment longer, brothers.’

  It takes me a moment to realise that it’s one of the ssythlans exhorting its kin. A little longer till what … them meeting their gods in the afterlife?

  But then the answer is made clear to me.

  As I stab a ssythlan in the chest, it stumbles back, retreating away with its kin just as light floods the tunnel. For the sun rises, not only in our world but the land of the fey, revealing a landscape of dreams and an army of nightmares.

  Belief dawns on Conrol’s face while Ardlan’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and the Last Hope’s footsteps falter.

  The remaining ssythlans take the opportunity to turn and run. The one I’d struck staggers after them, clawed fingers fruitlessly trying to stem the spurt of ichor. As we watch, dumbstruck, the ssythlans pass through the gate as an evil-smelling wind blows through the other way.

  The enormity of what I’d just witnessed hits me like a physical blow; the gate has just opened.

  Nogoth and his ssythlans had lied. I thought we had another five weeks.

  The end of the world has come early.

  ***

  Despite the ssythlans racing down the ramp on the other side of the gate, the fey army is only just beginning to rouse. In response to their appearance, around three dozen sinewy creatures, grey leathery skin, all knees, elbows and bulbous eyes, sidle up the ramp, long tongues hanging from their lips. They appear female, with long knotted black hair falling to their knees and cloth wrapped around their breasts and waists. Despite being unarmoured, they pull long black daggers from their belts and lick the blades in anticipation.

  Twin temples rise up either side of the ramp, a horrific reminder of what lies beneath.

  ‘By the gods, you were telling the truth.’ Conrol’s hushed voice sounds loud in the silence as the Last Hope stares wide-eyed upon another world. ‘You were telling the truth.’

  ‘What do we do now?’ Ardlan asks, but more of himself than anyone else.

  ‘What are those things?’ Someone cries, and others echo the words.

  Fearful murmurs begin to rise, and the front rank shuffles backwards. Without leadership, a rout will soon occur. This situation is already dire, but it could quickly worsen. Something needs to be done. There are two good antidotes for fear …

  ‘I’ll tell you what they are.’ I shout as I step forward from the ranks and turn my back to the gate. ‘Those hags are Yeldom’s sisters. They might be as ugly as he is, but there’s enough to go around.’

  Nervous laughter meets my poor joke. It’s a start.

  ‘Seriously though, you asked what they are.’ I pause briefly, considering how to deliver the news. I shrug nonchalantly as if I were telling them nothing more worrying than the time. ‘What you see behind me is no different from the armies you’re used to facing. Like the others, they’re about to invade your homelands. If they prevail, they’ll slaughter or enslave your fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters. They might look like the creatures of nightmares, but that doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Why the hell doesn’t it matter?’ A man asks, having pushed to the front.

  Everyone looks at me expectantly.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I shout, pointing at him.

  ‘Derenas.’

  ‘Give me your spear, Derenas!’ I order, holding out my hand.

  The soldier tosses me his weapon, and I catch it midway up the shaft, hefting it and testing the balance.

  Looking briefly over my shoulder, I see one of the creatures ahead of the rest, turning back to its kin, undecided on whether to advance further.

  I spin, take three swift steps and throw, turning my hips and shoulders for extra power. The spear passes through the gate, arcs, and plummets to take the creature square between the shoulder blades, pitching it forward at the feet of its brethren.

  ‘It doesn’t matter because we can kill them!’ I yell.

  I’ve almost got them back from the brink. Seeing me kill one of those weird harridans has straightened the mens’ spines, but they need something more.

  I laugh out loud as something outrageous comes to mind.

  ‘Captain. Would you mind if I took command briefly?’ I say, stepping over to Ardlan and grabbing his shoulders as I look him in the eye.

  ‘N-no. N-not at all,’ he stammers.

  ‘Derenas. Get your arse moving down the mountain and get the rest of the Last Hope back up here. On the double man. MOVE!’

  Derenas turns and bolts along the tunnel.

  ‘Wedge formation!’ I yell, positioning myself between Ardlan and Conrol.

  ‘Didn’t you whoresons hear me? WEDGE FORMATION!’

  ‘WEDGE FORMATION!’ Ardlan echoes, snapping out of his stupor, and then Conrol shouts it out.

  ‘ADVANCE AT THE DOUBLE!’ My voice cracks as I shout, but it doesn’t matter, as one hundred men of the Last Hope jog through the gate.

  ‘You’re crazy,’ Conrol shouts as we surge forward, but then the time for conversation is lost as roars erupt from hundreds of thousands of throats as we do the unthinkable … invade the land of the fey.

  We slam into the shocked creatures on the ramp, our armoured wedge splitting them apart, tossing them aside. As they fall, they’re trampled, stabbed, and kicked to death in a panicked frenzy that cleanses the men’s fear. Only a victory can do that, and however short-lived, this is ours.

  The ramp where we stand is at least twice my height, and creatures of every shape and size are leaping and scrabbling to get to us. Several hundred tusked creatures wielding wicked-looking swords and body shields are forming up at the far end, discipline apparent despite the hunger that’s no doubt consuming them. I look about, wondering if I’ll see Nogoth, but he isn’t in sight. Our job here is done, and it’s time to withdraw.

  Yet just as I’m about to shout the order, a beast leaps onto the ramp twenty steps ahead of us. It’s thrice my height, and a bull-like bellow erupts from its jaws as it spreads its legs and arms wide. It holds a giant sword in one hand, twice as long as I am tall, and in the other, a standard adorned with feathers and human skulls.

  ‘I claim the blood rights on these pathetic humans!’ it roars, the common tongue sounding twisted and brutal coming from its cavernous maw. It shakes the tribal standard above its head before tossing it into the sea of watching fey.

  ‘We’re undone,’ Ardlan murmurs next to me.

  He’s right. This one beast alone could swat the men behind me aside as if they were flies. Yet the taller they are, the more vulnerable to low attacks they become, or so I found when practising against Kralgen. Yet I’d never ever once managed to beat Kralgen, and this beast would make him look like a dwarf.

  ‘Give me your sword,’ I command Ardlan, taking it from his shaking hand.

  Now isn’t the time to hesitate. I’ll either be dead or victorious in the next twenty seconds.

  Tossing my shield aside, I spring forward, feet pounding, a wind pushing me from behind as my magic senses the urgent need.

  Corded muscles bunch, eyes flare, and that ghastly sword swings. Without question, it will cut me in half. Yet at the last possible moment, I roll, the swoosh of the blade so close that the wind of its passing almost unbalances me. As the sword tip gouges into the ramp behind me, stone fragments thud against my back, but then I’m on my feet, running between those mighty legs. I spin, adding power to my blows, feeling my swords cut deep, glancing off bone as I cut left and right. Then as I pass through, I slow to a jog as the army around falls quiet in stunned disbelief.

  Behind me, I hear painful grunting, followed by a huge thud and the moans of the mortally wounded behemoth. It’s likely my adversary had been a general or champion, and its swift defeat momentarily shocks the fey army into silence.

  Every eye is on me as I stand there, arms hanging loosely at my sides, the two swords dripping black blood. I look around at the fey horde, challenging them with my stare.

  I need to use this victory for all its worth. I will use the weapons of The Once and Future King himself; deceit and misdirection.

  Calling upon my magic, a wind blows through my hair, but the reason isn’t for dramatic effect; I want my words to be carried on the breeze and heard by everyone here.

  ‘I will give you this one day to prepare for death!’ My voice carries like thunder as I raise my swords, sweeping them around to encompass them all. ‘For tomorrow, I will return with the vengeful human armies at my back to burn you and your world to ashes!’

  Turning, I walk slowly, careful not to slip in the river of black ichor that still pours from the gaping wounds to the insides of the beast’s thighs. I climb onto its corpse, remove my helm, throw my arms wide and let forth a war cry.

  ‘Tell Nogoth when he arrives,’ I yell, ‘that Malina, the King Slayer, is coming for his head at noon tomorrow!’

  ***

  ‘Withdraw the men in formation,’ I say firmly as I approach the ashen-faced Conrol.

  He moistens his lips and nods.

  ‘Form up, lively now! Shields high. Company, about turn!’

  With the precision borne of automatic obedience, the men pivot around.

  ‘At a slow march, forward!’ Conrol orders, and they stamp back through the gate in perfect unison.

  I’ve never felt so vulnerable as I stand there, letting them leave while I turn around a final time, taking careful note of the forces around me. The names of monsters used to scare me as a child come to mind.

  The one I’d slain must have been a troll, while in the distance, giants tower over everything.

  Formations of the winged creatures I’d encountered on my last visit circle above. Gargoyles.

  Closer, furred wolf-like creatures with intelligence shining in their yellow eyes snap and howl. They can only be wolfen. However, the majority of this horde are brutish, tusked monsters. Ogres?

  My gods, every creature I ever believed was made up can be found here, and I realise that a warning of this day has been told for a thousand years.

  Every instinct screams to run and never stop, but I can’t let this army know my fear.

  I look upon them, the silence building, then shake my head as if disgusted. Reaching down, I pick up my discarded shield and saunter back through the gate into the transient safety of the tunnel beyond without looking back.

  If I’d been surprised by my victory, nothing could have prepared me for Conrol coming over to throw his arms around me. After a moment, he steps back, looking embarrassed, nervously looking over my shoulder through the gate.

  ‘Forgive me, Malina. I was wrong.’

  I know he wants to say more, but now certainly isn’t the time.

  ‘Why did you say the armies of man would be invading tomorrow?’ Ardlan asks, confused.

  ‘To buy us a day,’ Conrol answers for me, his awe at my ruse evident. ‘They believe a vast army will invade on the morrow and will prepare to slaughter us as we march through.’

  ‘But what do we do with a day?’ Yeldom asks, joining us. ‘We can’t seal up this tunnel, and from the size of some of those beasts out there, they’ll make short work of any barricades we erect.’

  All eyes turn to me.

  As if understanding my unspoken question, Major Conrol clears his throat.

  ‘From hereon, Malina, you lead. I’ll advise if there’s a better way, as will Ardlan here, but you’re in charge for now.’

  The weight of responsibility on my shoulders is almost unbearable, but indecision will never be something I succumb to.

  ‘We need fifty men in a shield wall across the tunnel to be rotated every hour. They must be visible and ready to dissuade any fey that becomes too inquisitive. If we keep up the appearance of preparing to attack, there’s nothing for them to gain by forcing the gate. Have spearmen ready, just in case. I don’t want anything passing through.’

  Every other man needs to be tasked with building a barrier. We’ll use rock debris and the trees from outside the tunnel. The higher we can make it, the better, as they have Gargoyles that fly.’ I struggle to voice the word out loud, but neither Conrol nor Ardlan blink.

  ‘It won’t be enough, but every hour it gives us will be more precious than gold. But first, every man needs to see what we’re facing. Then, those who survive will have the belief to persuade everyone they come across of the danger the world faces.

  Conrol nods at Yeldom, who moves away, shouting orders at the waiting men.

  ‘What about your magic?’ Ardlan asks. ‘Can you use it to seal this tunnel again?’

  ‘If I had a month, maybe. I’ll do what little I can, but using it drains me terribly and won’t leave me fit to fight.’

  ‘Damn,’ Conrol mutters. ‘But perhaps it’s better that way. To have too much power would make you a god in a world of mortals.’ Then he chuckles. ‘I never thought I’d say this after what I’ve been feeling recently. But, when I look at those creatures, I’d happily worship you if you could save the world.’

  We laugh together, and even in this dark moment, it feels good to have our wounded relationship begin to heal. It’s been open and raw for far too long.

  ‘Now comes the hardest part,’ I sigh. ‘We need to decide who’ll be given the slim chance of escape.’

  I pause, gathering my thoughts, picking and then discarding countless ideas.

  ‘Major. You have to be one!’

  ‘No. That I can’t do!’

  ‘You have to, Major,’ Ardlan says before I can voice my reasons. ‘Commander Farsil will never believe Malina if she returns alone. He’ll have her executed, as you well know. He trusts you over and above anyone. Your duty is to notify Farsil, not stay here and die. That’s for me and the Last Hope. The first in and last out, that’s our way. It always has been.’

  ‘I’m staying too, and don’t even think of trying to dissuade me!’ I stare at them both, resolute.

  Ardlan and Conrol exchange a swift glance, and then they both shrug.

  ‘Having seen you slay that giant creature when I thought our end had come early, I’m not going to argue,’ says Ardlan. ‘It will give the boys who fight with us all the courage they need. How many need to stay?’

  ‘To give Conrol as much time as possible to get back to Lake Hold, grab some mounts, and return to High Delnor as fast as he can ... I’d say three hundred. The hundred he takes can protect him from the gargoyles when they get past us and verify his story to Farsil if they make it.’

  Ardlan pulls his ear lobe.

  ‘They’ll all want to stay, believe it or not. I know they took fright to start, we all did, but they’re sworn to protect one another. The Last Hope is a family, and you don’t leave a brother behind.’

  Conrol puts his hand on Ardlan’s shoulder, gripping it tightly.

  ‘Be that as it may, Malina is right. Take three hundred, my friend, and make those creatures pay dearly. Put fear and doubt into them like Malina did.’

  We move back down the tunnel as fifty men of the Last Hope form a shield wall ten steps inside the gate. The rest of the Last Hope are making their way, wide-eyed, to see for themselves the new world and monsters they’ve just heard about.

  As we emerge into the open, Conrol and Ardlan step away, so I take a quiet moment to myself.

  I pause, staring at the charred, smoking ruin of Pine Hold in the valley below and sigh. How many cities and towns will soon look like that? I’m glad I’ll die here, so I don’t have to witness the world in flames.

  If only I’d had a chance to make amends with Lotane, to know his love again before I died. Even as I try and recall his caress and the love in his green-blue eyes, Nogoth flashes into my mind. I want to cry in frustration. Why am I so fixated on that beast? Maybe it is blood calling blood. Yet, my blood is red, not black, and I’m more human than fey. Yet as I look at my hands, I wonder if that’s entirely true.

  Conrol giving out orders efficiently and with authority catches my attention. It’s something to behold as the soldiers, most of whom will die here, now respond to the command in his voice without hesitation. Finally, I have some hope, for if he’s back to his former self, I have confidence he’ll make it to High Delnor. The fey invasion will still come about, but Nogoth’s army won’t find the easy pickings they’re hoping for.

  Ardlan is equally effective, although his style is somewhat different. He has an easy familiarity with his troops, cajoling and insulting as he directs his men, and I can see their love for him shine in their eyes.

  I wait for a pause in the shouted orders.

  ‘Major. I need a brief word.’

  Conrol turns to me.

  ‘What is it, Malina?’

  ‘I have a confession, but not a bad one. At least not now.’

  Thankfully he laughs, and a white smile splits his filthy face. It’s all the invitation I need.

  ‘There are allies on the way to High Delnor.’

  ‘More Chosen by any chance?’ Ardlan butts in, overhearing our conversation.

  ‘Well, yes, but just one. However, he won’t be alone. You see, he’ll be bringing an Icelandian army with him.’

  Conrol’s astonishment turns from disbelief to acceptance in a matter of heartbeats.

  ‘I can understand why you didn’t disclose that earlier. It would have led to your immediate execution. Assuming we could carry it out,’ he adds with a wry smile. ‘To lead an Icelandian army, I assume your fellow Chosen will have a position of high authority.

 

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