“Prepare yourself, Heliwr,” Snedeker said tersely. “I am ready.”
“I hope so. Today is likely the day of our deaths.”
Snedeker said nothing. Richard did not continue. In his heart, he did not care about the outcome of the battle, not in a way that would affect his decisions on the field. He only wanted a chance to kill Arawn. He had spent the entire night thinking about it. Despite the horrors he had endured in the dungeon of Caer Llion, he had risen that morning stronger in some way. Tempered steel now ran through him.
Nothing during the fight would stand in his way.
The Morrigan stood at the forefront of those who watched from their forest cover, her chin held high, eyes stabbing her enemy. Even though dryads, with their fists thrust into the ground and lips humming an alien song to the foliage, were shielding the Tuatha de Dannan from the locust-like horde, the Morrigan stood just beyond, seeming to invite the coming fight.
The rest of the Seelie Court watched nearby, lost to their thoughts. Caswallawn glowered behind his Queen, sullen and silent. Lord Eigion crouched with fellow Merrow, gills fluttering, eyes wide. Lord Faric stood with Commander Masyn and Captain Henrick, whispering tactics for when the battle began. Lord n’Hagr waited next to Lord Finnbhennach, each dressed in full battle gear, the former carrying large swords and a pole axe strapped to his broad back, the latter leaning on a giant mace, his horns shimmering. Lugh sat in a tree above, gaining a better look at what they faced.
Closest to Bran stood Lord Gerallt and Deirdre, father and daughter, both humans out of place amongst so many fey. Only Aife and Govannon were absent, the centaur vanished and the smith still producing armor and weapons deeper within the Forest of Dean.
The Kreche had left with the dawn, to take up his position according to the plan.
Richard knew what they all were thinking.
The growing army before them was far more powerful in numbers and magical protection than the Tuatha de Dannan.
Behind him, spreading into the far-reaching depths of the forest, the majority of the Tuatha de Dannan army lay silent. All of the fairy creatures were present, beckoned by their lords to fight for Annwn and their freedom, awaiting the command that would send them into conflict. Others had joined as well—massive hairless trolls from the coast with skin like rock, and spriggans hiding under bridges with dirty matted hair and wild wiry dispositions. With the addition of the coblynau and the men and women Lord Gerallt had amassed from his province—all wearing armor hammered together by the Mastersmith—the Queen of the Sarn Throne’s army was formidable.
It was an army composed of dreams.
And nightmares.
But it was nothing compared to the hellish creatures Philip and the Cailleach had bred in the depths of Caer Llion. Fairy and pixie scouts had reported the approach of Philip. It had been hard to believe the reports but now, seeing the horde trail west for miles, they all did. Upon returning, Caswallawn had corroborated it.
Richard had given what opinion he could but the members of the Seelie Court now saw with their own eyes.
Now he waited.
Like the rest of the Tuatha de Dannan.
“How did you find us?” Richard asked the fairy. “In Caer Llion.”
“The halfbreed met Deirdre where you left us, after dark,” Snedeker said, wings fluttering. “Appeared out of nowhere. Caswallawn, the man with the magic cloak, met us almost at the same time. Deirdre was unsure of them both but they spoke a long time. The halfbreed said much, like it knew the drunk lord would come.”
“And then what happened?”
“Then they left and asked me to aid them. Smart asking me, do you not think?”
“But why send Kreche?” Richard murmured to no one.
“Caswallawn knew he could not enter the castle,” Snedeker explained. “Magic in the walls that would detect his magic cloak, he said. But the halfbreed created a diversion. Smashed down the wall, just so, and that nasty drunk lord and I snuck in. He is worth his salt, that one. Then we found you.”
Richard cursed inwardly. Merle knew too much and hid all of it. Had the wizard seen Richard and Bran in danger? He must have, if he sent the Kreche. Merle would know curse tablets warded Caer Llion and the moment the Kreche broke in, Philip and Arawn would think their alarm tripped by the halfbreed rather than the real culprits—Caswallawn and Snedeker.