Gossamyr Part 31

"Have at me."

Stabbing her staff into the ground, Gossamyr swung up her body and caught one rider on the head with her heels. The bourquinette flew into the air. The force of connection toppled the rider to the ground.

The other dismounted with a fluid ease, and swinging his sword in challenge, let out a banshee yowl. No humanity in that voice. But a chilling reminder of Faery. Two of the succubus's victims, then.

Ulrich, his head erect and eyes forward, miraculously dodged a wild sword slash and kept walking.

Slapping her staff into both hands, Gossamyr barely avoided a slice to the head from a seeking blade. Thrusting high, the staff vibrated in her hands as steel cut into the hard wood-and broke the fire-forged applewood in two. The force of the blow unsettled Gossamyr from her stance. Her arms swung back, a serrated half of the staff swinging in each hand. She caught herself from falling by redirecting her balance.

So easily her best defense was destroyed? A simmer of fear surfaced. What do you fear? No! Danger, it was hers to embrace.

A step dislodged the skirt from her waist and it fell to her ankles. Ill outfitted for this challenge. From the corner of her eye Gossamyr saw the first rider remained on the ground, groaning and pulling at his eyes with cutting gauntlets. Already the red had begun to seep from his pores.

"Ulrich, no!" The soul shepherd listened only to the silent and beguiling song of the succubus. A song that planted itself in the skulls of Gossamyr's attackers and had fruited into a wild, evil thing.

Now there! The fetch swooped low to hover over the head of the other man. He swung his sword at the creature; the fetch dodged and flew off.

Gripping both halves of defense to her sides, Gossamyr announced to the standing attacker, "Deliver your best, blighted lackwit!"

Spinning one half of the staff in her right hand, she twisted at the waist and conked the armored beast upside the head with the other short staff. The bourquinette went flying. Another twist of her waist returned a blow to the crown of his exposed head. The hard wood connected with skull-cracking impact. Momentum pulled her around and she spun the short stick to a stop, stabbing the swordsman in the gut with the serrated end, just below the hard iron cuira.s.s. With a jingle of circled metal, Gossamyr tugged the staff from the mail. A guttural squawk quaffed out from him. He landed the ground, gripping his stomach, but was far from defeated.

Using his momentary befuddlement, Gossamyr raced to the wall before Ulrich, blocking his path with her half staff. "Don't do it, Ulrich. She is calling to you. The Red Lady!"

"So pretty," he murmured. Tears streamed down his cheeks, drawing thick runnels through his dusty flesh. Bespelled then. How to break the succubus's erie?

"Jean Cesar Ulrich.

What was the remainder of the man's over long name? The third...something. Blight!

Gossamyr used the only form of deterrent she knew would work. She blunted the staff into Ulrich's gut, folding him and bringing him down. His palms slapped the wall behind him for stability, yet found little as he slid to his haunches.

Now an attacker fixed to Gossamyr's back, the flat of his blade cleaving into her neck. She bent, heaving the man over her head and pushing away the deadly blade as he landed the ground. Raising the staff above her head, she prepared to bring it down onto his skull-but paused.

Red tears poured from the man's eyes. The neck muscles tightened to thick cords, then released, softening his flesh. His mouth gaped, releasing a torrent of ichor swirled through with vibrant crimson.

Remembering the last time she had witnessed such a death- Gossamyr scanned the periphery in search for the pin man. Did he lurk in the shadows?

She hissed an invitation to challenge. "You want their essences? You'll have to go through me!"

"Oh..." Ulrich stirred and, using the wall, managed to pull himself to his feet.

She dashed to him, lifted her skirts, and kneed him in the thigh to effectively pin him.

"What did you do that for? Ouch." He toppled into her arms and began to retch dry coughs over her shoulder. "That is the last time I kiss you!"

"You were under her spell." She embraced him around the shoulders and held him as he heaved. "I had to do something to keep you from the Red Lady. Steady, Ulrich. You are safe now-oh, my faery heart."

"What?"

"Look."

There, behind the mule snorting at a scatter of rotting hay, lay the first unfortunate fee she had laid out. And squatting over him, the pin man, a long steel pin held in wait. No hood concealed his hair this day. Capped in brilliant red, the long strands looked to be soaked by a b.l.o.o.d.y flood. Sunlight flickered across his face. The mark of the banished curled an arabesque about his eye.

"Avenall." The name fell, a stolen whisper, from Gossamyr's lips. The fear she'd previously pushed back clambered to the fore and set her to keen attention. See me. Remember me?

Still holding Ulrich, and feeling his body yet convulse in protest to the blow she'd delivered to his gut, Gossamyr remained at the wall. She did not want to frighten Avenall away.

Nor must she allow him to succeed in stealing yet another essence for his mistress.

As well, she wanted him to recognize her. Was he a slave to the Red Lady? His mind trapped in her wicked thrall? Could Gossamyr broach that invisible shield and draw Avenall out from the facade of the pin man? 'Twas sure a poke to his gut with her staff would do little but rile.

A small orange light emerged from the dead fee's skull, squeezing out in a globulus quiver and expanding.

"He's going to take the essence," Ulrich hissed. "Get him!"

"I..." Yet Gossamyr remained, strangely unable to move. For to do so would require force-against her lover.

At the exact moment the pin pierced the essence, the fee's armored body jerked. The sh.e.l.l of flesh and bone rose from the ground. Armor cracked and tore in a dull metallic rip. Out struggled a revenant from the rib cage. With a shrieking wail, the creature soared into the sky, away from Paris. Back to Faery to torment Shinn.

Her heart stalled, Gossamyr could but witness.

Releasing a squeal of glee, the pin man turned and scampered to the other body. The fee lay but a half-dozen strides from where Gossamyr and Ulrich observed. Intent on the task at hand, the pin man did not notice them. Or maybe he did see them, which is why he worked so quickly. This time a pale green essence seeped out from the body.

"Enough!" Gossamyr shoved aside Ulrich and pointed her staff at the pin man. "Move and I strike you dead. Look at me, Avenall!"

The pin man drew himself straight, taller than Gossamyr-as she remembered-and grinned so wickedly she thought any sane man's face should crack. Holding out his arms, he displayed a pin, decorated with an essence, in the left hand. Narrowing his eyes, he tilted his head and nodded. "I make no move, my lady."

Did he surrender so easily? What to do? To strike or speak?

Gossamyr maintained her pose, the staff-shorter, but no less effective to defense-ready for instruction. Her left hand strummed the chord of arrets at her hip. A step forward was halted by close-fitting fabric. Blight, this awkward gown!

"Tell me how you have my name?"

A conversation? Might be the thing to dissuade him from the burgeoning essence that sought a safe twinclian.

"I knew you when you lived in Faery, Avenall. I know the reason why you were banished."

He gaped. So he did not know the reason behind his banishment? Most certainly, for then he would know her.

She must tell him. Mayhap win him from the succubus's erie.

The green essence quivered, slowly rising between them. If he moved, Gossamyr would leap forward and crack open his skull.

Studying him, she saw he was dressed in the finery of Faery. Skeleton leaves frilled about his neck, and at his wrists, fee lace fashioned of delicate arachnagoss. Yellow rose petals had been sewn for a doublet, and amphi-leather hose drew her eye down impossibly long legs. If the Disenchantment had set in, surely the clothing would not hold- Had Shinn the ability to send the banished straight to Paris, yet still retain their Enchantment? For so long? Even Shinn feared Disenchantment with an overlong stay.

"You..." he started, the pin held firmly in his left hand. A weapon, no doubt about it. "...know?"

"Do you not remember your life in Faery, Avenall?"

"Do not continue to speak that name!"

"It is your name."

"It means nothing to me."

Gossamyr blew out a breath. Indeed, she must Name him to break the glamour. "I name thee Avenall of..."

Of. Of what? Tightening her brows, Gossamyr searched her memory. Avenall... Why could she not place his name complete? She knew this man. She had once thought to give herself complete to him.

"I must go." Ulrich rose behind Gossamyr.

She reached back to grasp Ulrich's hand but touched only the flutter of his cape. "No! She calls to you!"

A squeal of triumph shot through Gossamyr's system. Not her own rejoiceful cry.

Avenall danced, his stolen prizes glowing, one speared on a pin in each hand. "She lies, the mortal warrior. She cannot name me."

In that instant the bell of the great cathedral on the island began to peal.

"Ah, Jacqueline!" Ulrich called, raising his hands to revere the distant bell. "So prettily you toll, but I've only ears for my lady's song. So sorry."

Gossamyr struggled to maintain hold on Ulrich and yet keep Avenall in sight. The man's name! She must conjure his name to restore his memory of their alliance.

A skin-prinkling howl burst up from the ground. The revenant clawed its way out from the husk of the Disenchanted. Flesh tore and clung to the bones, one last attempt to keep the evil at bay. Muscle stretched and snapped. Armor bent and ripped. Finally the revenant was free.

She must stop it from returning to Faery. She must stop Ulrich from going to the Red Lady. She must rescue Avenall from the wicked thrall. She must- With no apparent intent to flee to Faery, this revenant turned and yowled at Gossamyr, revealing gnashing fangs and whipping wings. The creature was twice her size and loud enouph to wake the dead.

"Ulrich!" Gossamyr yelled.

The man heard nothing but the Red Lady's call. He strode from the alley, oblivious to the danger that waited. What she would offer for a lost soul to wander across his path. "Right now," she muttered. "Can you hear me, lost souls?"

"Watch you don't get your head ripped from your shoulders!" Avenall called in a macabre song. Orange and green faery lights blurred across the stone building facades, a shadow of Enchantment stealing across their sealed windows.

Dodging the revenant's lunge, Gossamyr raced toward Ulrich, then realized her mistake as she arrived on Ulrich's heels.

The revenant screeched and followed.

"Get yourself gone!" She shoved Ulrich and he collided with the wall.

A swing of her staff connected with the revenant's fist. Bone-clean fingers clamped about the applewood and jerked, winning the prize.

"I am off," Ulrich muttered. "My mistress calls."

Gossamyr dodged the swing of her own staff, feeling the whoosh of air part the fur r.i.m.m.i.n.g her neck. Death missed. Had the weapon been full-length she might have received a blow directly to her skull. But it did hit another target.

Ulrich yelped as he received the blow intended for her against the side of his head. He went down like a felled tree.

The best thing she could do right now was to lead away the revenant. Bent at the waist, Gossamyr ran toward the square, luring the skeletal beast with her. No, you'll lead it toward people. Gossamyr stopped, jumping to turn and face the creature. Taking an arret in each hand she began to spin them.

The revenant hung before her in the sky, sunlight ripping through the slashed wings and glinting on the ichor-dripping muscle shreds clinging to the ribs. A shred of mail hung from one rib bone. It wielded her staff with such ease, transferring it from one hand to the other as if a mere toy. Not mindless then. It could remain if it so chose. And this creature sought some fight before returning to Faery.

Judging the best hit for her tiny obsidian blade would not be between a rib or on the tattered wing, Gossamyr thought to try the eyes. Nothing in the skull that she could determine, but it was worth a shot.

A death cry preceded the revenant's swinging attack. Gossamyr leaned back to avoid the hit. She swung, releasing the arret. It soared through the open jaws of the revenant and out into the sky. Blight!

If skulls could grin, the creature cracked a bitter smile at her. Swiftly it returned the staff, bringing Gossamyr down. The arret abandoned on the wet cobblestones, she rolled to her knees, clutching her gut. The staff had connected directly. But she hadn't time for pain, for the revenant attached to her back. Strength immeasurable pressed down on her spine. Bony fingers dug between her ribs.

The thing thought to rip her apart!

And it would. Rolling to the side, the revenant clattered upon the ground, bone against stone, but would not release Gossamyr. She managed to slip a hand around and grip bone. Her finger slid into-an eye socket. She felt the skin on her back tear. A cry of pain escaped but was swallowed by the revenant's manic screeches.

Slamming hard, Gossamyr heard the skull crack. Working another finger into the other eye socket, she held fast. Repeatedly she beat the skull against the cobbles. Each pound released the pressure on her back until she was free. She flipped her legs out from under the revenant. Using both hands, she made to pound the skull one forceful time but instead pulled the head off complete.

Amidst the terror, Gossamyr found herself kneeling on the ground, stunned to be holding the skull of a dead fee in her hand. The jaw opened and let out a yowl.

Gossamyr whipped the skull across the square.

It landed a stone wall and shattered into a glimmer of dust. Strange to think the sight pretty, but it was.

Now a skeletal hand groped her knee. Gossamyr stretched along the cobblestones and grabbed her staff. The tip of a finger popped through the silk skirt and opened her flesh. Smashing the staff in a purely desperate move, she obliterated the offending arm and hand. The hips and legs were put to end with a fervent pounding. Faery dust rained upon her head and shoulders and legs.

Satisfied the beast was demolished, Gossamyr flung back her arms and lay upon the cobbles, heaving and panting. Dust coated her eyelids. Whimpers of pain punctuated her frantic breaths. Air wheezed from her lungs. Blood from her knee oozed down her leg and soaked her braies.

But successful, she thought. A smile was the only thing that did not hurt. One less revenant to torment Faery.

Avenall's face appeared above her. Insectile in his movements he looked over her. Streams of red-and-black hair tipped her aching muscles.

"Avenall," she gasped.

"Impressive, mortal wench."

"I am not..." Too exhausted to argue, she thought to expend her energy mentally. What be his name? He was of the tribe... Rogue. Torn. Not enough to invoke a reverse glamour, but certainly worth the effort. "Avenall of...Rougethorn."

But a single red eyebrow lifted. Considering? Remembering? Both brows narrowed to study. Gossamyr stared into the violet depths that, with a blink, were sluiced over by red.

"Rougethorn, she said, trying the word, but not saying it as he'd once said. A thoughtful tilt of his head was followed by an adamant shake. "No. You shall not win the prize this night, pitiful one. Puppy must return to his mistress."

With that he dashed off, leaving Gossamyr sprawled in the center of the street, her arms spread wide and her body coated with the revenant dust.

Darting out her tongue, she tasted Faery. And for the moment she reveled in the shroud of glamour that revisited her home.

I am coming home. I will become the champion.

TWENTY.