to the ground. Unable to prevent its momentum, the bodach impaled itself, the spear penetrating its innards. Silver light exploded deep within the creature as did its howl.
It missed Bran to instead land feet away.
Seizing the chance, Richard sent the magic of the Dark Thorn toward the Unseelie beast. The bodach screamed further, surprised from the side assault. It fought the fountain of white fire, singeing, maddened to gain Bran and end him. Dizziness washed over the knight but he ignored it, keeping the fount of his magic focused on the bodach. The creature tore through the flames, unable to break through their intensity, the baleful eyes and biting jaws mere feet away but incapable of reaching Bran.
Buckling to his knees from weakness and Richard beginning to lose faith they could bring the creature down, an eruption of blue fire from Arondight burst from the corner of his eye and slammed the bodach in the side like a sledgehammer.
The fey creature landed witin the same corridor from which it had sprung.
“Pull the torch holder, Ardall!” Henrick roared.
Not hesitating, Bran grabbed at the sconce with all of his weight, not questioning the Master Guardsman.
The torch gave way as a lever. A series of snaps reverberated through the mountain. Boulders tumbled from the roof of the side passage entrance in a thunderous avalanche, showering Bran and the others with pebbles and dirt. Richard shielded his face from the destruction, worried the entire passage was about to come down. The stone beneath them shook like an earthquake and then became still.
Sudden silence hit the mountain.
Richard let the Dark Thorn dissipate to smoke.
The bodach was sealed away, unable to harm them now.
Richard pushed himself to stand. He felt drained of any authority that had been given him. A few paces away Bran stood, Arondight gripped tight, its length fiery and blazing angrier than ever before. It was odd for Richard to see the boy wield the sword he had spent so much of life regretting that he had accepted.
“What the hell?” Bran coughed as the dust swirled around him. “We have fail-safes throughout all of Caer Glain,” Henrick said, also coughing. “Never seen it needed before. The rock will keep that creature at bay, I warrant.”
“By Ser Rhaith, what was that thing?” Charl growled.
“A bodach,” Richard panted. “Unseelie.”
“Why did it find its way in here?”
“It’s after Bran,” Richard said. “And it will continue until we find a way to kill it.”
“It will not bother us for some time,” Gat surmised. “That corridor leads to an exit abandoned long ago, unused by all but those who hunt game and pheasant in the lower reaches of the Snowdon.”
Henrick glanced around. “Where is Hollick? Hollick!?”
No answer came.
Richard shared the stares of those around him as the realization struck; they all looked at the rubble-choked corridor from where the dwarfish guard had not returned after being kicked by the bodach.
“Hollick!” Henrick screamed, jumped up on the landslide. “Hollick!”
“He is already dead,” Richard said.
“Gat, notify Master Commander Masyn of what has transpired here,” Henrick ordered after a few minutes, his voice thick with emotion. “They must be made aware of this monster.”
“Kegan,” Bran breathed as Gat left. “If the bodach followed us into Caer Glain…”
Understanding hit Richard. “The Rhedewyr.”
Finding a reserve of strength he didn’t know he had, Richard chased after Bran. The others were close behind. If the bodach had entered the caverns of Caer Glain the same way they had, it could have killed the coblynau and their mounts. Kegan was in danger and without the Rhedewyr, the journey would be far more difficult.
After several twisting tunnels, Richard burst from the underground city into the glen, the sunshine of the late afternoon casting long shadows over the mountain.
The Horsemaster and the Rhedewyr were nowhere to be seen.
“Kegan!” Bran yelled.
“He’s not here,” Richard said. “Perhaps nearby.”
“Wizard, ye owe me,” a voice growled from the dark.
Llassar Llaes Gyngwyd stepped from the wooded blackness to their left and looked like he would fall over any moment. The giant had been in a fight. His patched clothing now hung in tatters, ripped apart so grotesquely it exposed the rent flesh beneath. Crimson slashes ravaged his forearms; chunks were missing from his beard as though forcibly pulled out. Eyes lost below a darkened brow, Llassar limped to stand before Richard with a painful smirk.
Lugh jumped to the forefront and lowered his spear at the giant in warning.
“Where is the clurichaun?” Richard questioned.
“I am here, Richard McAllister,” Kegan said, appearing from behind the