Beyond the Mountain

  Beyond the Mountain

  Fae’s Captive Book 4

  Lily Archer

  Beyond the Mountain

  Lily Archer

  Copyright © 2019 Lily Archer

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book only. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Lily Archer. This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art by Deranged Doctor Designs

  Copy Editing by Spell Bound

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue I

  Epilogue II

  About the Author

  Thank you, dear reader, for going on this journey with me. I hope that you and I will have many more adventures in Arin, as well as other worlds.

  ~ Lily

  1

  Taylor

  If you haven’t read Fae’s Captive, Road to Winter, and Bite of Winter, you’ll want to do that before starting Beyond the Mountain.

  Someone is crying.

  I blink my eyes open and find I’m sitting at a long, dark table, my arms bound to a chair, though I see no rope. A cavern soars above me, the roof covered in icy stalactites. I shiver as a cool wind whips by. Turning my head, I see the cave is open on one side. A dark sky glowers beyond the opening, and a wizened, leafless tree grows in the very center of the cavern, its black roots oozing along the stone floor.

  The sniffle comes again, but I can’t see anyone. Where am I? The last thing I remember—Gareth bleeding on the ground, Para’s death. Klaxons blare in my mind. I have to get to Gareth. He needs help. I struggle to pull myself free, but my wrists don’t budge.

  “No use.” The voice comes from above.

  I twist around and peer up between the stalactites. A gasp whooshes out of me. “Cecile!”

  She hangs upside down, her long, golden hair flowing, and her hands bound. Someone else hangs beside her, and a creeping sensation tiptoes through my gut as she spins slowly from the chain attached to her ankles. Her arms hang limp, eyes closed—my eyes, my everything—it’s the girl who looked like me. It is me. My mind spins a little, vertigo and nausea rocketing through me.

  “Where are we?” I stare up at Cecile as she rotates.

  “Gray Mountains. May as well be the Spires.”

  “You are fae.” I knew it.

  “Of course I am.” She takes the same snotty tone I’ve heard so many times. It’s like resting bitch face, but in her voice.

  “Why did you send me here? Who is the one that looks like me? Why are we in the Gray Mountains? What is going on?” I run out of breath on the last question and try to swallow my rising panic.

  “Why are we here, you ask?” She cranes her neck back so she can glare at me. “We’re here, Taylor, because you’re a screwup. You had one job. ONE JOB. Serve my father as his changeling slave. But could you do that? No. You fucked that up right out of the gate and—”

  “Your father?” I shake my head. “Tyrios was your father?”

  Her now-silver eyes narrow. “What do you mean by ‘was’?”

  She doesn’t know he’s dead. This is an ‘oh, shit’ moment buried inside another ‘oh, shit’ moment all tied with a ‘we’re screwed’ bow.

  “Leander!” I scream in my mind, but the link between us seems almost severed, a dead end where there was a vibrant highway before. What could make the bond feel this way? Is he … I can’t think about that. Leander is strong. He’s fine. But if I can’t escape this cave, I won’t be.

  “Your father doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here.” Something tickles across my consciousness, echoing the word ‘father’ back to me. What had Cenet said to me before he put me to sleep?

  “We need to get out of here,” Cecile mimics my voice. Poorly. “You think?” She rattles the chains at her wrists. “This is iron. My skin is on fire, I’m upside down, and you are saying stupid things as usual. And all of this is your fault. Do you have any idea what sort of trouble you’ve caused me? I’m supposed to be partying with the …” She blathers on.

  I grit my teeth. I took her crap for far too long back on earth. But now? Now, things are different.

  “Cecile!” I snap. “Shut your mouth for once in your life and listen.”

  She stops talking, her mouth hanging open.

  “We need to get gone before someone comes. I’m pretty sure we aren’t going to make it out of here in one piece if we don’t escape. So, unless you want to be torn apart, tortured, or straight-up sent to the Spires, why don’t you pull your head out of your ass and work on getting free?”

  She blinks, her expression so surprised it’s as if I’ve slapped her. And I suppose I have. No one talks to Cecile that way. At least, no one did. Oh boy, the times, they are a-changing.

  The more she gawks at me, the higher my anger rises. “And how dare you blame me? You’re the reason I’m here in the first place. Why? Why the hell did you send me here?”

  She glances at the other me, her eyes softening just a bit. Just enough for me to understand.

  “For her?” I look up at me, I mean her, a bruise on her forehead and her skin pale.

  “She’s my friend.” Cecile’s voice is almost a whisper now, and there’s a tremor in it. Before, she was running on empty bravado. But now I see her clearly. She’s afraid. But not for herself. For my twin. “The only friend I’ve ever had. She was stuck here with my father.” She swallows hard, and I suspect she knows just what sort of fae her father was. “And he sent me to earth to keep us separated. But then I saw a chance to make the exchange between you two, so I took it.”

  More questions surface, but we don’t have time. Not now. When we get out of here, I intend to sit her down and ask her everything.

  I try to twist my wrists out of their invisible shackles even though it causes Leander’s bite on my shoulder to ache and burn. A frustrated cry rips from me, and I have to force myself to stop fighting. I need to think. What tools do I have? I glance up at Cecile again, her long hair hiding her face. “Let’s focus on blowing this taco stand, okay? What sort of powers do you have?”

  “I don’t have magic,” she says quietly.

  “No talents, no nothing?”

  “I have a talent, but it won’t help.”

  “Why? What is it?”

  She shrugs. “I can … keep things alive.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know that plant you brought home from the greenhouse and put on our windowsill?”

  “Yeah.” I have a green thumb. That little houseplant flourished under my care.

  “It would have died ten times over if I didn’t save it.”

  “That’s not true.” Pride, thou art gravely wounded. “I’m great with plants.”

  “Maybe, but you aren’t great with paying attention to plants when you’re busy doing your nerd stuff.
You didn’t water it and left it to bake in the windowsill.” She shakes her head, her hair flying. “But I kept it going just for fun. Or really, just to troll you into thinking you were any good at houseplants.”

  “So you can heal, too?”

  “No. It’s just a talent, something small I can do. It’s not infused with full magic, not powerful enough to work on much more than that small plant.”

  “Look, not to brag, but I just saved the Vundi’s entire farming system, so maybe it wasn’t your magic that—”

  “Stow it.” Her petulance is back in full force. “Accept I’m better than you at plants, and everything else, and get me down from here.”

  I grumble a few choice words about the clearly lying louse hanging above me, then ask, “What about the other me? What is she? Does she have powers?”

  “She’s a human. No powers.”

  “A human?” I never considered for a moment that my creepy twin was a human like me.

  “How did you get here?” I glance around, but no one else is in the cave. Just the three of us. Not even a guard. If only we could get free, we could disappear right out of the cave entrance.

  “Someone came for us through the ley lines. I was in our dorm room with Taylor, and someone knocked at the door. I opened it, and saw a lesser fae that looked kind of rough, I guess? He had snake eyes.”

  “Crimson clothes? Scales?”

  “Yes.”

  “Cenet. He’s a Vundi warrior.”

  “I tried to slam the door on him, but I … I think I fell asleep.”

  “He’s pulled that crap on me twice. I’m kind of over it.” I strain so hard I think I’m going to dislocate my elbow and rip my shoulder open. Nothing. “Have you seen anyone?”

  “No.” She kicks her leg a little so she spins around. “Taylor!”

  “What?”

  “Not you.” She wriggles again. “The real Taylor.”

  I watch as she tries to face the other me. “I am the real Taylor.”

  “I mean my Taylor!” she snipes, but then her tone softens. “Wake up. Come on, wake up. You’re scaring me.”

  Oh, god, what if I’m dead?

  I put one hand to my face. What if the other me is dead? Also, how am I touching my face?

  I squeak and rocket up out of the chair. “I’m free!”

  “How?” Cecile spins back to face me.

  “I don’t know.” I feel my wrists.

  “Get us down!” She wobbles with excitement.

  “Okay, let me think.” They’re hanging at least ten feet over my head. How in the hell do I reach them? “I’m going to find a ladder or something.”

  “A ladder?” Cecile grips her hair with her chained hands and pulls it out of the way. “You seriously think there’s a ladder in here?”

  “I don’t know, but your tone isn’t helping your cause.” I scoot along the edge of the table and peer into the dark recesses at the back of the cavern. Nope. Not going into the pitch black. “They got you up there somehow, right? Let me look around.” I head toward the opening that leads out into the night.

  “Don’t leave us,” Cecile hisses.

  “I’m not leaving you. Even though you sent me to a scary fae world where I was held captive in a dungeon, almost eaten by an obsidian witch, and kidnapped by a Vundi sandman, but that’s neither here nor there, is it?”

  She lets her hair drop, hiding her face from me again.

  I turn my back on her and pick my way through the white stalagmites that jut up from the stone floor. Giving the tree a wide berth, I move faster, though I keep glancing around as though someone might run out and bust me. But the place is barren. Who captures three people and just sticks them in an empty cave? Doesn’t matter, because I intend to get us out of here.

  Creeping to the edge of the cave opening, I stop and peer over. It’s a sheer cliff. Damn. And that’s not even the worst part. Far below the mountain peak and along the valley floor, thousands of fires are burning. Campfires. And in the background, carried on the wind, is the unmistakable drumbeat of war. Is this what happened to the disappearing lesser fae and changelings that Leander has been searching for? Are they an army?

  “What do you see?” Cecile calls.

  “Nothing good. We need to go. Now.” I turn and almost run into a man.

  No, not a man. A tall, wiry fae with black hair, even blacker eyes, white skin, and enormous raven’s wings spread out behind him.

  I stumble backwards, a shriek caught in my throat.

  He grabs my arm before I fall off the cliff and sets me on my feet. A chilling cold leaches from him, along with a darkness that seems to coat the air with black soot. Evil. There’s no other word for this creature.

  When he smiles, fear twists in my gut like a serrated blade.

  He takes my hand and pulls me back into the cavern, now filled with dozens of warriors that weren’t there only moments ago. What the—

  Cenet stands at the fore, the snake scales along his face glistening in the low light. His crimson scarf is gone, revealing a brand on his neck. It’s an image of the tree in the center of the cavern.

  The black fae pulls me forward, his grip unbreakable and one of his ebon wings at my back. I pull against his hold but get nowhere. As he leads me into the unrelenting darkness at the rear of the cavern, he says, “It’s about time we got to know each other, Daughter.”

  2

  Leander

  The snow at the border is already red with blood, my guards falling back from an overwhelming summer realm force. Grayhail and Valen are thundering this way, but they won’t be here soon enough.

  Ravella materializes beside me. “Ready.”

  I can’t risk magic, not when my guards are so deeply engaged. This must be done with direct combat. “Let’s go.”

  I draw my sword and enter the fray, slashing and battling through the golden-armored soldiers, mowing one down, and then another, and then more until my guards are able to rally and push them back.

  Too much blood is spilling, the truce between winter and summer breaking right before my eyes. Our tenuous peace, gained only after centuries of fighting, lies broken on the snowy ground.

  Ravella ghosts through the fight, her silver knives glinting before finding home as she weaves in and out of the vale.

  Captain Tavaran swings for her but misses as she disappears and reappears behind him. Her blade is swift, but I’m swifter. I stop it with my sword before she plunges it into his neck.

  “Tavaran,” I roar and send a gust of winter down the ranks, one that will frost the summer fae but leave my warriors unbothered.

  He spins, and Ravella darts into the fight behind me, her sneaky blades doing untold damage. Something tickles in the back of my mind, an ugly feeling that I can’t place, but then it goes quiet. I focus on Tavaran, on ending the mess he’s created on my doorstep.

  “You’ve broken the truce!” I send spikes of ice shooting up from the ground, caging him in.

  He swings, but his sword glances off the slick surface. The spikes build and join until he’s caged in an icy prison.

  Thorn charges by in bear form and tackles the nearest summer soldier.

  “Give us the changeling.” Tavaran rams his armored elbow against the bars. Bits of ice crack along the surface, but they don’t break.

  “Never.” I raise my sword. “It would be so easy to kill you now. To freeze your heart and shatter you. To simply ram my blade through you. Call off your soldiers, or I will end you here and now.”

  He scowls, his silver eyes hardening.

  Fool. I could destroy them all. But I am not my predecessor.

  I try to calm the vengeance in my blood, the frigid rage this invasion has pulled to the surface. I can’t give up our hard-won peace so quickly, despite the fact that summer has committed a grave sin against us. I speak as earnestly as I can. “We may yet have time to stop another war between our realms.”

  “You stole the changeling, killed Lord Tyrios, and fled Byrn Va
ryndr. If anyone’s broken the truce, it’s you.” Tavaran’s sneer is trying to convince me that saving them isn’t worth it.

  I send another spike of ice through his foot, talking over him as he howls. “Then it’s war. Perhaps this time I will wipe summer off the map and claim it as my own.”

  “Unseelie garbage! You will—”

  With an easy shove, I slide my sword through the icy cage and into his side at a joint in his armor. I’m well-acquainted with the summer realm’s weaknesses, though I’m surprised the war taught them nothing about how to create better defenses.

  Tavaran screeches and struggles to free himself. More ice forms around his neck, holding him still while I press my sword into him.

  “Call. Them. Off.” I won’t ask him again. “You seem to have no idea how close I am to destroying all of your soldiers and sending their corpses back to Byrn Varyndr with your head perched on top of the stack.” I twist the blade. “Now sound the retreat.”

  He grits his teeth, but I can see him cracking like the ice of a frozen lake.

  “Summer, retreat!” His yell is loud enough for the nearest soldiers to hear. Word spreads quickly through the skirmish. Thorn backs away, his maw dripping with enemy blood.

  “Blades of winter, let them go.” I send my voice whistling down the line on a frigid breeze. “Do not follow.”

  The golden soldiers hesitate.

  “I said retreat!” Tavaran’s cry is more desperate this time, my silver blade hewing close to his liver.

  The soldiers back down and flow toward the crossing, some of them carrying their wounded.