The Floodgate

"Iron," she reminded him. "And by wind and word, you'd better be right behind me to do the same for the jordaini’s weapons."

Dhamari glanced over his shoulder. His guards-those who had not already fled back down the pass-formed a solid wall behind him. "You heard her," the captain said gruffly.

The wizard took the knife and cast the spell. When the task was done, he gazed with dismay at the dull, heavy weapon. "Consider," he pleaded, "you ca

Tzigone snatched the iron knife from him and raced to Matteo's aid. As she burst into the clearing, a little cry of dismay escaped her. Her friend was not faring well.

The Unseelie warriors were swift and silent, taxing the jordaini with their speed, toying with them with their wicked little knives. All three men bled from many tiny wounds, but they could not lay a blade on their darting foes. Iron weapons would help, but Tzigone couldn't hold them off alone. She glanced back over her shoulder. Dhamari Exchelsor swayed uncertainly at the edge of the clearing.

"Metal transmutation!" she shouted. The wizard caught her eye and quickly went into the second casting. When the spell was cast, his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground-to Tzigone's eye, just a little too gracefully.

"Idiot," Tzigone muttered. Dhamari's cowardly ploy might excuse him from fighting, but it also kept him from defending himself.

"Get him out of here," she told the men who'd followed Dhamari to the clearing. Their faces proclaimed that they'd be happy to watch the wizard die where he fell. Tzigone's gaze swept over them. "Move him, or deal with me."

She didn't have time to wonder at the fear that crossed their faces, then the shame. "As you say, lady," murmured the leader.

Tzigone was already ru

Tzigone lifted the knife in a gesture of menace, then brought her knee up hard. The fairie's black eyes blazed with what she hoped was pain.

"Lady," she repeated derisively. "I don't think so."

Her iron knife swept in.

She yanked it free and whirled to take stock of the battlefield. Matteo had tossed aside his now-iron sword-too heavy, she guessed-but he fought with daggers alongside his two friends. They stood in a triangle formation, back to back to back, moving in concert as they faced their peculiar foe. The Unseelie folk were still preternaturally fast, but the iron weapons seemed to sap their strength as surely as the laraken drained magic.

Just as Tzigone began to hope the battle had turned, the big jordain stumbled and fell. The Unseelie song swelled in triumph as the dark fairies rushed in.

She darted forward to take the fallen man's place. A fairy knife leaped from nowhere to nick her thigh. She lacked at her attacker and met nothing but air. Seeing the futility of solitary battle, she fell into position with Matteo and Iago and dropped into the rhythm of battle.

"Get back, Tzigone," Matteo panted out as he deflected one darting attack after another. "You're not trained for this."

"Who is?"

He darted her a quick, exasperated look. "Just go!"

"I called them," she responded grimly.

Matteo could not have argued even if he'd wanted to. As the iron weapons slowed the dark fairies' movements, their numbers became more apparent. Dhamari's spell of summoning had let more than a score of the fey monsters slip through the veil.

Suddenly the weird music stopped, and the Unseelie attackers drew back. They milled uncertainly about. Tzigone's heart leaped with sudden hope, but Matteo let out a heartfelt, barnyard epithet.

Her head whipped toward him. "What?"

Matteo backhanded a streak of blood off his forehead. "I've seen this formation," he said, "but not in battle."

Even as he spoke, the dark fairies began to circle. Their song erupted in a keening, triumphant frenzy. Like small, fey wolves, they closed in for the kill.

Chapter Twenty-One

A brilliant light poured into the clearing, sending the dark fairies whisking off into sudden, eye-searing flight. Matteo shielded his eyes with one hand and glanced toward the source. His shoulders rose and fell in relief as he recognized Basel Indoulur's ship. The battle over, he dropped to both knees at Themo's side.

At first glance it appeared that the big jordain's wounds were not so bad-spiteful, superficial cuts such as he himself had sustained. The dull, haunted look in his friend's eyes suggested otherwise.

Crimson silk rustled as Basel dropped to one knee beside him. "How can I help?"

"The Unseelie folk can mark a mortal like a vampire," Matteo said. "Themo needs to be healed and cleansed, or he may never be more than you see him now. Have you a priest with you?"

The wizard shook his head. "We'll take him to the nearest temple." As he spoke, his gaze shifted to the edge of the clearing, when Tzigone stood with her chin tilted stubbornly high, nearly toe to toe with a very irate Iago. The jordain appeared to be railing at Tzigone, blaming her for what happened. For once the girl held her tongue. Matteo, knowing her quirky sense of honor, understood that she already felt the weight of her miscast spell.

Basel quickly placed himself between the angry jordain and his apprentice. "Board Avariel, Tzigone," he said calmly. "Get the others."

Iago spat. "I will not travel the same ship as that witch!"

"You're not invited to," Basel said coolly. "Take the mercenaries and ride to the nearest town. Or stay here and face those creatures again, as you prefer."

The jordain stalked off and held quick, angry speech with Dhamari's men. After a moment the mercenary captain came over to Basel, dragging Dhamari by the collar of his tunic. "Can you take one more? He can't ride in this condition, and every man here would rather kill him than tend him."

Basel gave a curt nod. Two of the men carried the wizard ungently up the long plank that led to the deck of the hovering ship.

Matteo hoisted Themo over one shoulder and carried him up the plank, unsure whether to stay or rejoin the other fighters. The skyship began to rise before he had time to disembark, settling the matter. He settled down beside Themo's cot. One of Basel's men brought him water and linen, and he busied himself cleaning and bandaging the jordain's many small wounds.

After a few minutes, Tzigone peered around the corner of the small cabin. She took in Themo, who by now was swathed nearly as thoroughly as a Mulhorandi mummy. Distress and guilt filled her expressive eyes.

"Don't take this on yourself," Matteo said, gesturing to Themo. "It is not your doing."

"That ski

Matteo beckoned her over. She sank down on the edge of the cot and submitted to his ministrations. When all her cuts had been tended, he sat down beside her and drew her into his arms.

Tzigone leaned her head against his shoulder. Words poured from her, tumbling over each other. Matteo listened without interruption as she told him about her meeting with Dhamari and her decision to travel into the countryside with him and learn what spells she could. "He said the summoning was accidental," she concluded.

"Do you believe him?"

She rose from the cot and began to pace. "I don't know. Did you find Kiva?"

"I found one of her companions."

She glanced at his bleak face. "Your turn."

Matteo told her about his encounters with Andris and the Crinti. He told her about the jordaini purification rite but did not pass along Iago's speculations about Kiva's motives. He mentioned that Ferris Grail owned the icehouse where Tzigone had been taken.