Scars of Silver (5 page)

“Enslaving humans?”

“More than fifty regulars, at least. No exaggeration.
And vampires, too.”

“Bad company to keep. Not even attempting discretion.
Fifty human? What would any Sidhe possibly want with that many
cursed humans?” Donovan snarled with disgust. “And vampires? That’s
a bad business to traffic in.” Addicted vampires posed a threat to
all fey. “Blatantly carelessness for a Sidhe to stir trouble among
the bloodsuckers. One of the exiles? You’d think they’d have more
sense.”

“Earthborn, sounds like.” Tiernan hooked his thumbs
into his belt loops and shrugged, as if ‘earthborn’ was synonymous
with ‘dumbass.’ “Hate to lose a load of my muscle clearing out the
nest. Especially when you could just tear the mountain down and
squash the problem with a twitch of your eyebrow, you know?”

“I’ll handle it,” Donovan said, with a note of
finality.

You know you’ve lived a sheltered life when you have
a bobby pin and you still can’t pick your way out of a pair of
shackles.

He managed to get the left shackle off. Malcolm went
almost a whole day with that wrist breathing the semi-free air.
Using his left hand on the right shackle was trickier. When the
goblins brought the daily slop he had to shackle himself before
they found out.

The lock on the cage posed a greater obstacle. A
heavy metal key opened it. His little bobby pin didn’t have the
length or the weight to manipulate the tumblers.

Malcolm did his best to probe the lock, since the
keyhole was big enough that he could jam a finger into it. He could
feel the shape of the gizmos inside, but not move them.

He wanted to toss the bobby pin down in frustration,
but it was a hard-won prize. The first glimmer of the possibility
of hope.

That was until sounds of laughter dragged like icy
fingers over his soul. Alerted by the approaching sounds, Malcolm
backed away from the lock. He secreted the bobby pin under its rock
hiding place before the goblins brought their latest clients to
feast on Malcolm.

And feast these guys planned to do. Five of them.
Three male. Two female. All vamps.

Their unholy eyes glowed in the low light. Skin a
corpse pale. They did nothing to disguise their fangs, baring them
hungrily as they leered at Malcolm. Rand was nowhere around. He
usually brought them. Made sure the vamps didn’t kill him in their
blood craze.

And then it dawned on him. Rand had said to have
vamps drain him frequently. And the goblins usually did whatever
Rand said. Only the goblins weren’t too bright. They figured they
were supposed to find more vampires, only they wouldn’t know when
to stop the vamps before they killed him.

The goblins dragged Malcolm forward by the shackles.
He dug in his heels. But his bare feet couldn’t keep a grip. The
other goblins pushed him from behind like a reluctant mule, forcing
him out into the chamber.

“Where’s Rand?” Malcolm demanded of the goblins.
“Rand has to be here. That’s how this works.” The goblins ignored
him, like always.

“So beautiful,” The smaller female toyed with the fur
stole slung around her shoulders.

“Sidhe blood,” the young-looking, blond male breathed
with awe. “Is it all they say it is?”

“And more,” the Dracula-wanna-be in the center lunged
at Malcolm, shoving the goblins out of his way.

Malcolm ducked beneath the first attempt to snag him.
When he scrambled backward he stumbled over the goblins behind him.
The blond vamp made a rugby tackle, driving Malcolm to the
floor.

The vampires surrounded him like a pack of wolves.
These vamps showed no fear of the goblins, shoving them aside.
“Change him! Make the Sidhe a vampire, so he must serve you and we
can keep his blood all to ourselves!” The small female squealed
with wicked glee.

The leader gripped Malcolm by the hair, twisting him
around so the fey’s back was to him, with his neck arched.

The other four each claimed a limb, raising Malcolm
into the air. Fangs sank into his biceps, just below the armpit.
Others bit into the insides of his thighs. Struggling got him
nowhere.

No escape.

With a snarl the leader sank his fangs into Malcolm’s
neck.

Each bite tore fresh pain into Malcolm, followed
immediately by a throbbing pleasure. Not as intoxicating as the
brew, but it left him dizzy. Malcolm’s eyes rolled back. Blackness
crept into the corners of his vision, threatening to swallow him
whole.

Donovan crouched on a ridge in the foothills in
southwestern Ireland, studying the cave tucked into the other side
of the valley. Or rather, he watched the creatures milling about in
front of the cave. Goblins. One of the nastier tribes from the
looks of them.

The goblins wandered a short distance before turning
back, patrolling in haphazard goblin fashion. Hunched low, they
dragged their claw-tipped fingers on the ground. Each time they
screeched their jaws full of needle-sharp teeth gleamed.

With a tremor, Donovan’s magic expanded from him and
into the earth, his element. The familiar warmth and depth of
potential power washed over him. Tiernan hadn’t exaggerated.
Donovan could easily bring the mountain down, disintegrating the
network of caves within, as effortlessly as he could crush an
anthill. Ready to do just that, his magic flexed with
anticipation.

Donovan trusted Tiernan in as far as he trusted that
Tiernan would do what best served his own interests first, and the
Unseelie second. Whatever questionable informant passed this
intelligence to Tiernan, Donovan trusted not at all. The war
between the Sidhe and the goblins flared and faded, but never truly
ended. Donovan never bothered to track the number of casualties
caused by his hand or magic, but of the goblins he could easily
imagine he’d exterminated thousands. When the goblins invaded in
stampedes one could slice through them with a sword endlessly and
the flood never seem to cease. What they lacked in strength and
wit, they compensated with massive numbers and a tenacious streak
of cruelty.

From his crouched position, Donovan rested a palm on
the ground before him, deepening his communion with the earth. His
awareness spread through the silent ground until vibrations
fluttered against the rocks. Within his mind’s eyes, the labyrinth
of caves formed. Not terribly vast, but a complex design meant to
confuse intruders and prevent them from finding the heart of the
nest.

Goblins in general tended to scuttle. Their breathing
came in raspy hisses when not screeching or laughing. Even their
heartbeats, the vibrations of which he could discern through the
rock, fluttered like the rapid beating of a pixie’s wings. As
Donovan’s awareness surveyed the nest he noted the concentration of
the goblins in various caverns, searching for the creatures out of
place among the vermin fey.

Not until the deepest chamber did he find an
aberration. Or rather several aberrations. Movement and breathing
from beings with no heartbeats. Vampires. Hardly the usual visitors
to a goblins’ nest. Not much of the conversation bouncing off the
walls gave an explanation for their presence there, just the murmur
of excitement.

And nearby, one other. One with a heartbeat unlike
the goblin’s flutter or the silence of the vampire. This could be
the rumored Sidhe. Enough of a confirmation to warrant further
investigation. Not something the goblins would readily permit.

With a stroke of power, Donovan brought a landslide
of loose rocks tumbling down the hillside above the cavern. The
landslide swept over the entrance and washed away the guards,
burying them further down in the valley below. The fall of debris
didn’t obscure the cave. Donovan teleported across the expanse to
the cave entrance, prepared to slaughter all who challenged him.
The goblins he would not spare. As for the Sidhe who employed the
filthiest excuses for fey, Donovan would educate him with a
merciless ass kicking.

Striding with the power and pride of the Sidhe,
Donovan delved into the nest. Surrounded by his element, it only
strengthened him. Anger for the Sidhe he stalked boiled like magma,
ready to explode. Sensing all movement scraping the stone floor he
felt an approaching goblin before he saw him. Sweeping his hand
sideways in front of his body a rock beside the goblin’s head
thrust out with the speed of a bullet. It slammed the goblin’s head
against the opposing wall and crushed its skull before it even had
a chance to scream.

Knowing exactly the path to follow, Donovan moved
through the twists and turns. A goblin leaning against the cave
wall suddenly sunk into the stone which became as fluid as
quicksand for a single instant only to solidify once more around
the beast. Deeper into the nest the goblins milled about in packs.
As they spotted him they screeched and charged him. Loose stones
turned into shrapnel before Donovan’s power, slicing through the
goblins as they charged him. He stepped over the bodies without
even slowing down.

How could any Sidhe stand the smell in the bowels of
a goblins’ nest? The filth and the rot fermented into a fume that
stung the eyes and the sinuses.

Donovan approached the deepest chamber, where he’d
sensed the vampires and the Sidhe. The sounds of activity kicked
up. Scuffling and goblin laughter. Then the snarling of vampires
over prey.

Donovan scowled, knowing vampires would not likely
find goblin blood worth the effort. Only left one other as the
victim.

Bursting into the chamber, Donovan took in the scene
in an instant. The earthborn was suspended between the pack of
vampires. Naked. Dirty. Bleeding. Scarred. This was no
vain-glorious Sidhe making an empire among the goblins.

The youth made eye contact. Those familiar dark, dark
eyes. Soulful eyes, so like his sister’s that Donovan would
recognize them anywhere. He could almost hear the echo of her
whisper, “Find Malcolm.” And he had. The lad was here. Had been
here all this time. Almost a full year. Taken by the goblins since
well before the Mounds collapsed.

This was Regan’s brother, Malcolm. The runaway with
no magic training at all. The Sidhe who didn’t even know he was fey
most of his life. Undoubtedly abused in every fashion imaginable.
And yet the lad was not utterly crushed and consumed by madness.
Instead, he fought with every ounce that he was. A Sidhe. An
Unseelie. A fighter. Unleashed potential. And Donovan would unloose
him.

Donovan’s fury boiled forth with his magic.

As the vampires swarmed with the goblins toward him,
Donovan rippled the ground, tripping them. One vampire sprawled on
the ground gracelessly before him. Donovan snapped his neck before
he even felt the tread of the boot. The goblins succumbed to a
flurry of loose stones than battered against them with deadly
force. The gale force of his stone storm whirlwind around the
Sidhe, missing him even as it bashed against everyone else in the
chamber.

He launched a spire of stone from the wall, impaling
both female vampires through the chest, shredding their hearts
instantly before sticking them into the opposing wall. Both
vampires still caught along its shaft, dead.

As Donovan turned a fist connected solidly with his
right eye socket. Stumbling back, he growled low. The vampire
hauled back for another swing. Donovan raised both hands, fingers
curled hard as if gripping something heavy. The chamber quaked. A
section of the floor ripped out of the ground and collided with the
ceiling above, cutting off the vampire’s scream as he was
crushed.

The lead vampire hooked his arm around the
earthborn’s throat using him as a shield. Donovan narrowed his
eyes, recalculating his plan of attack. The young Sidhe, a fighter
despite his wounds and blood loss, viciously bit into the arm
choking him. As the vampire tore the young Sidhe from his arm and
tossed him to the ground a cannonball sized rock burst across the
room. It caved in the vampire’s face, killing him instantly.

Donovan crouched next to the young Sidhe, blood still
seeping from the wounds made by his attackers. “Hey. You still with
me?” The shock-glaze in the earthborn’s half closed eyes was all
the answer he received.

A short time later Donovan emerged from the nest with
the young Sidhe leaning heavily against him. One of Donovan’s arms
around the boy kept him on his feet. Once clear of the cave he
lifted his free hand. As he brought it down the goblins’ lair caved
in with a rumble that shook the mountain and crushed anything still
inside. In the next moment, the two Sidhe disappeared from sight,
leaving the place seemingly untouched by anything but the fury of
nature.

Glittering shards of light, like sunlight on rippling
water, shone through Malcolm’s closed eyelids. His eyes slit open
just a little. Too exhausted to do anything else.

He floated in warmth. Heard it lapping. Water. He
smelled soap, fragrant and crisp.

A woman knelt over him, beside the bathtub. She held
his hand, but not to comfort him. Not exactly. Just holding it
while she scrubbed a soapy washcloth up and down his arm with
efficient strokes. Just washing him. Not getting perverted with
him.

The light shimmered like prisms, fracturing sunlight
into a jillion diamonds. Pretty, but kinda too bright. Even
squinting, Malcolm couldn’t make out much of her appearance past
the light.

The dark man that fought the vampires towered behind
the sparkling girl. Where she twinkled and stuff, something else
surrounded him. Like a cloud. Or smoke. Only not. More like dust
floating in a shaft of sunlight. Real slow, but moving constantly.
Not a whole-whole bunch, but it was there. Weird. Neat, but weird.
Malcolm tried to say that, but nothing came out except an exhale.
So very tired… So weak…