gather their strength before another attempt at a revolution.
Broken bodies of the beasts lay around them on the snow, blood staining the pristine white with a nearly obscene splatter. One or two of the wounded beasts screamed in pain and thrashed at the ground as if trying to escape their own broken bodies.
Eyes gritty with the blowing snow, Culhane studied them, mentally trying to find a way to describe them to Maggie. They were a bit like horses, he thought, though they were the size of small cars. Their coats weren’t just black, but were the absolute absence of light. A black so deep it was as if midnight had turned in on itself, swallowing the very stars to become a darkness that devoured whatever it touched.
The beasts boasted huge, leathery wings with a span twice the size of their own bodies. When they flew in on an attack, the heavy thump of those wings against the air chilled the blood almost as much as a glimpse of the long, jagged teeth they used to tear the flesh of their prey. Dullahan hooves were sharp as knives and their strength . . . formidable.
Fatigue pulled at him. Culhane felt rivulets of blood trailing down his own body, and knew that the pains and aches shrieking in his bones would ease soon enough. For now, he had to gather his warriors, then make further plans. If the Dullahan revolted, there might be others just biding their time, waiting for a chance to move on the Queen’s forces. He needed to face Maggie with all of this. Make her see that now was the time to pick up her new responsibilities and embrace them.
“Have you seen the others?” Culhane shifted his gaze to the nearby village, where already the Fae who lived there were staggering outside to witness the damage done in the battle.
“Fine, all of them,” Quinn said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “O’Hara was burned when one of the bastards hit him with a stream of fire. But he will recover. Muldoon took a hoof down his back, but repaid the Dullahan in kind.” He smiled grimly. “There’s one of our enemies that won’t be thinking of escape for quite some time.”
“Good.” The beast at his feet roared and stirred, as if trying to rise for another attack. Culhane leaped into action. Straddling the beast’s neck, he grabbed hold of the long, matted mane and yanked its head around until he was staring into its flaming red eyes.
“Hear me,” Culhane muttered, his voice deep, nearly lost in the moan of the rising wind, yet even more compelling because he refused to shout. “You’ve seen what a handful of warriors can do to your herd. Sow more seeds of rebellion against your Queen and I will bring the full force of the Warrior clan down on your heads.”
The Dullahan shrieked, lunged, its huge teeth snapping shut mere inches from Culhane’s leg. Then it struggled to pull away, refusing to give quarter even though it was grievously wounded. But Culhane held on, his grip tightening, his gaze locked on his prisoner’s. “I am Culhane. You know of me?”
The beast’s eyes wheeled and it shuddered in his grasp. “Good. Then tell your brothers. This ends here or you will all die. Immortal or not, the Warrior clan will slice your brethren into so many pieces, it will take centuries for the Dullahan to heal. You made your attempt,” he added, giving the beast’s head a push into the ground. “You failed. Continue on this path at your own peril.”
Straightening up, fury still blazing in his eyes, he turned to look at Quinn. Seeing approval in his old friend’s gaze, Culhane nodded grimly. “This task is done. Gather the others and let us leave this icy pit.”
They shifted together as a group and the cold wind blew across their footprints in the snow, eradicating even the memory of their presence.
“Nonsense, you’ve nothing to worry about. The Cree-An can’t be trusted.” Jasic gave his pronouncement as if speaking from the Mount. “Mab is in another dimension.”
“Alive and pissed,” Maggie
Broken bodies of the beasts lay around them on the snow, blood staining the pristine white with a nearly obscene splatter. One or two of the wounded beasts screamed in pain and thrashed at the ground as if trying to escape their own broken bodies.
Eyes gritty with the blowing snow, Culhane studied them, mentally trying to find a way to describe them to Maggie. They were a bit like horses, he thought, though they were the size of small cars. Their coats weren’t just black, but were the absolute absence of light. A black so deep it was as if midnight had turned in on itself, swallowing the very stars to become a darkness that devoured whatever it touched.
The beasts boasted huge, leathery wings with a span twice the size of their own bodies. When they flew in on an attack, the heavy thump of those wings against the air chilled the blood almost as much as a glimpse of the long, jagged teeth they used to tear the flesh of their prey. Dullahan hooves were sharp as knives and their strength . . . formidable.
Fatigue pulled at him. Culhane felt rivulets of blood trailing down his own body, and knew that the pains and aches shrieking in his bones would ease soon enough. For now, he had to gather his warriors, then make further plans. If the Dullahan revolted, there might be others just biding their time, waiting for a chance to move on the Queen’s forces. He needed to face Maggie with all of this. Make her see that now was the time to pick up her new responsibilities and embrace them.
“Have you seen the others?” Culhane shifted his gaze to the nearby village, where already the Fae who lived there were staggering outside to witness the damage done in the battle.
“Fine, all of them,” Quinn said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “O’Hara was burned when one of the bastards hit him with a stream of fire. But he will recover. Muldoon took a hoof down his back, but repaid the Dullahan in kind.” He smiled grimly. “There’s one of our enemies that won’t be thinking of escape for quite some time.”
“Good.” The beast at his feet roared and stirred, as if trying to rise for another attack. Culhane leaped into action. Straddling the beast’s neck, he grabbed hold of the long, matted mane and yanked its head around until he was staring into its flaming red eyes.
“Hear me,” Culhane muttered, his voice deep, nearly lost in the moan of the rising wind, yet even more compelling because he refused to shout. “You’ve seen what a handful of warriors can do to your herd. Sow more seeds of rebellion against your Queen and I will bring the full force of the Warrior clan down on your heads.”
The Dullahan shrieked, lunged, its huge teeth snapping shut mere inches from Culhane’s leg. Then it struggled to pull away, refusing to give quarter even though it was grievously wounded. But Culhane held on, his grip tightening, his gaze locked on his prisoner’s. “I am Culhane. You know of me?”
The beast’s eyes wheeled and it shuddered in his grasp. “Good. Then tell your brothers. This ends here or you will all die. Immortal or not, the Warrior clan will slice your brethren into so many pieces, it will take centuries for the Dullahan to heal. You made your attempt,” he added, giving the beast’s head a push into the ground. “You failed. Continue on this path at your own peril.”
Straightening up, fury still blazing in his eyes, he turned to look at Quinn. Seeing approval in his old friend’s gaze, Culhane nodded grimly. “This task is done. Gather the others and let us leave this icy pit.”
They shifted together as a group and the cold wind blew across their footprints in the snow, eradicating even the memory of their presence.
“Nonsense, you’ve nothing to worry about. The Cree-An can’t be trusted.” Jasic gave his pronouncement as if speaking from the Mount. “Mab is in another dimension.”
“Alive and pissed,” Maggie
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