The Realm Rift Saga Box Set

by James T Kelly

  Tom opened his eyes and forced himself to his feet.

  Six laughed. “I thought not.”

  “What was all that?” Tom asked, rubbing his neck. It didn’t feel as bad, though it had felt better. “What did we do?”

  “A distraction.” Six looked cagey, looking about as if watching for eavesdroppers. “A puppeteer can control a dragon’s body, for the most part, until instinct kicks in. That’s what the mating call was for.” His voice lost its rough edges as he spoke and even his posture changed. He seemed a different person.

  “And the red cloth?”

  “Female dragons have a bright red crest,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  “And you’re saying a dragon can’t tell the difference?”

  “Its conscious mind can,” Six said. “But the puppeteer has suppressed that. All a dragon has left is instinct. Instinct isn’t hard to fool.”

  “What’s a puppeteer?”

  “The elf controlling the dragon. The magic you’re trying to break.” Six shook his head. “Come on. We can’t stay here.”

  They wandered through the forest, their way lit by a fat and pregnant moon. It wasn’t much of a blessing. It meant that they could see the hundreds of men and women huddled in the shadows, knowing their homes were burning and that their duke had forsaken them.

  “Is she coming?”

  “The guard will look after us.”

  “I heard they left before the attack.”

  “What shall we do?”

  Tom felt like a coward, sneaking away into the night and leaving the dispossessed to their woes. He had no doubt that Neirin or Katharine would find them a way off the Harbour. He had just as little doubt that way wouldn’t be of any help to these people.

  The right thing to do would be to stay. Stay and help.

  No, he told himself. They weren’t his people. His people were long gone, dust and forgotten memories. All he had left were the fay. Maev. She was his only responsibility now.

  Each patch of grass looked like an inviting slice of bliss. It would feel so good to just lie down and sleep and forget this broken, mortal body.

  “Katharine,” Six shouted. “Katharine Pathfinder.”

  “That’s not her name,” Tom said. But there was a shout back and shapes emerged from the shadows. Elfs and a human woman. Katharine bounded past the others, over huddled city folk and hugged Tom before he could say anything. Pain stabbed at him and he winced. But she didn’t notice. And he didn’t want to tell her.

  “We thought you’d died,” she said.

  “Not yet,” he replied. He put his face in her hair and took a breath. He could smell her beneath the stink of smoke. He hadn’t realised how worried he’d been about her until he saw her. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Lucky to be breathing, more like,” Six said, his old mannerisms returned. “Tom took on a dragon and lived. There’s not many that can say that. Of course, those who can’t tend to be in dragon bellies. Not saying much at all in there.”

  “Took it on?” Katharine pulled back. “What did he do?”

  “Taunted it. Threw things at it. Saved my life.”

  Katharine hit him, a thump on the chest that landed right on an old bruise. Tom groaned.

  “You idiot.”

  “I had to do something,” he said. “It could have killed us.”

  “It could have killed you anyway.”

  “Maybe.”

  Katharine smiled. “Just when I think I know you, Thomas Rymour.”

  “An impressive dance with Angau, Master Rymour,” said Neirin. He looked disappointed. “But we are still trapped. We can’t have long until this island is filled with Western soldiers.”

  “A matter of hours,” said Six. The moon was low in the sky. Sunrise wouldn’t be too long.

  “Katharine, now would be a good time to share some of your expertise on the locale,” Neirin said.

  She stepped away and left Tom feeling bereft. Then she slipped her hand into his and he smiled. “The Harbour has cliffs on all sides,” she said. “The only landing points are ones cut into the rock. The ferry might begin operations in the morning.”

  “By which time it will be too late.”

  “Maybe,” Six said. “Idris has always sent his dragons at night, when they’re more impressive and the fires more visible. The soldiers arrive in the morning. But he may be changing his tactics. Or the ships may have been delayed.”

  “You would gamble our lives on maybes?” Neirin’s voice was cold.

  Six shrugged. “That’s life,” he said. “We roll the die every day and hope it doesn’t come up a one.”

  “Happy thought.” Draig grinned. He seemed to be the only one not worrying. “We could hide. Wait for soldiers to come. Steal their ship.”

  “Can any of you sail?” Six asked. When no-one answered, he said, “Then I think our only option is the ferry.”

  “Forget the cursed ferry,” Brega spat. “We can’t wait that long. We need to act now.”

  Cries went up to the north and the city folk began to crowd past them.

  “What’s happening?” Katharine asked a passing woman.

  “Elfs,” she replied, before noticing the Easterners and rushing into the woods with a wail.

  Brega grabbed hold of Six and shook him. “You said we had until sunrise.”

  “The ships must have landed early.” He pushed her away. “Shall I ask them to sail around the island a few times for you?”

  “Enough,” Neirin commanded. But why? Did it matter if they argued? They were lost. They’d be found, caught, rounded up with the others. No doubt the elfs would be taken away. Tom and Katharine might be able to hide with the Erhenni. He’d heard that the people of the Marches had been treated well. Perhaps they could forget all this and start a new life together. He looked at her. She looked back and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. Yes, that would be easy. Forget the swords and the elfs and the fay. A life with Katharine would be simple. Straightforward. Why not do that? Why not let Maev be at last?

  He thought of Maev, of her cool touch, and his heart quickened.

  “Tom, we need to get to Faerie,” Neirin said. “Now.”

  “I don’t know how,” he said.

  “Figure it out.”

  “If it were as easy as that, everyone would go there,” Tom said. “Even those with the Second Sight can’t see the Circles. You need a fay to show it to you, or a Faerie tool to see it with.”

  “Wait,” said Katharine.

  “Then tell me, Thomas Rymour, why I have hired you at such great expense if you are of no use?”

  “Wait,” said Katharine.

  “I do not know your mind, Lord Neirin,” Tom replied. “I made no claim of usefulness to you or your quest.”

  “Will you two stop?”

  “I have paid a great deal for you, human, so provide some answers or I will cut them out of you.”

  “Humans aren’t aurochs that you can buy and sell.”

  “Stop it!” Katharine’s shout cut through the air. Nothing like Neirin’s bellow nor a shrill scream, nevertheless it stopped everyone in their tracks, even the panicked and milling Erhenni. “Is arguing going to help us?”

  Neirin went to speak but Katharine put up a hand. He closed his mouth. Tom tried not to smirk. He failed.

  “You can stop that too,” she said to him. “We need a solution. So anyone who wants to waste time arguing instead of helping will answer to me.” She stabbed a finger into her own chest, catching her necklace and sending the charms tinkling. Tokens of other realms and peoples, all serving as an indicator of her talents and skills, ranging from elaborate gems and crystals all the way to a simple stone.

  A stone with a hole in it.

  She was talking but Tom interrupted. “Is that natural?” He pointed at her chest.

  Six sniggered.

  “What?” said Katharine.

  “The stone on your necklace. Did
you bore the hole?”

  “Does that matter right now?”

  “Yes.”

  She made an exasperated sound. “No, I found it like this. Want to know about the others too?”

  “Give it to me.”

  “Swapping jewellery is your solution?” Brega asked.

  “Hurry,” Tom said. Katharine undid her necklace and starting sliding charms off until she got to the stone.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  Tom turned to Neirin. “A Faerie tool. A way of seeing the Circles. A Faerie Looking Glass.”

  “This is a joke,” said Six. “A stone with a hole in it?”

  Tom nodded. “Supposedly they were made for the first mortals so the fay could speak with them. Before the fay realised they could give mortals the Second Sight.”

  Katharine handed it over and Tom put it to his eye. It was like the world was at the bottom of a pond, the water shifting and twisting the view. The stone was real. A Faerie Glass.

  “Is there a Circle here?” she asked.

  “When we entered the Whispering Woods, you said there were things living in them. Like the thing on the Harbour.”

  She frowned. “There’s an old story of a merrow living in these woods,” she said. “Her husband died before she could take him into the sea, so she was stuck here forever. She traps unwary travellers.”

  “Do you know where?”

  Katharine shook her head, so Tom grabbed at a passing old man. “Good sir, do you know where the merrow is supposed to be?”

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Please.”

  The old man shook him off. “Dead Man’s Point, to the south. Crazy fool.”

  Tom looked at Katharine who said, “No, Tom.”

  “Come on.” He took off at a run. His body complained at such treatment but he ignored it. There was no merrow, he was sure of that. But the story suggested fay in this area. And fay could only be here if there was a Circle. He ran with the stone to one eye, casting his gaze left and right. It was becoming harder to see as the moon set and the sun waited for the night sky stage to clear. One eye struggled to see in the creeping darkness whilst the other struggled to make sense of the warped, bending world it was seeing through the Glass. He stumbled a few times, almost ran over some people huddled amongst a tree’s roots. He didn’t know if the others were following. It didn’t matter. He could find Faerie without them. And then Maev would let him come back.

  Singing. Faint and in a tongue he didn’t know. He tried to slow his breathing so his panting breath didn’t obscure the sound. But he heard it no matter. His ears couldn’t tell him where the song was coming from. He heard it in the back of his mind.

  Magic.

  There was an old road to his right. Why would there be a road unless there was somewhere to go? There were no villages on the Harbour and no docks to the south; he had seen as much on Katharine’s map. But there had once been roads to Faerie Circles, when the fay and mortals had mixed more often. He followed the path and the Glass rewarded him; the world sharpened to the south, the twisting and bending seeming to emanate from a point up ahead. He ran, but his body had a louder voice this time and so he slipped into a jog instead. So close. He could feel it. The road was nothing more than a dirt track, covered by branches stretching over from either side, a tunnel of trees. It ran straight and he could hear cries at his back. He risked a glance backward, ignoring the pain. The moon was almost entirely gone. The Erhenni were crying out in new fear and alarm. Tom couldn’t hear the dragon’s screeches or hoots. That meant it could only be the Western army. It had landed already. He quickened his pace.

  The ground rose, reducing him to a trudge. He could still just sense singing but without a direction. He looked back again to see the others following on horseback. He should have ridden. It would have been easier. But he didn’t want to stop and wait, nor go back. He kept walking. Katharine galloped on ahead of the group and caught up with him.

  “It sounds like the Westerners have entered the forest.”

  “Already?” Tom was out of breath.

  Katharine nodded. “Six thinks they want to gather up the Erhenni now, while they’re disorganised. Before they can organise a resistance movement.”

  Tom shook his head. “With no skills and no supplies?”

  “The Erhenni have always been a tough people.”

  Tom nodded. Tough and unyielding, or so it was said. Unless there was a dragon. “So we must hurry.”

  Katharine said nothing and Tom looked up at her. One eye saw almost nothing, the other saw her as if through water, or through broken glass. “Why are you in such a hurry to go back, Tom?”

  He lowered the stone and then his gaze. Could he tell her?

  “What’s so bad about Tir you have to leave it?”

  “This isn’t my time,” he said.

  “You could make it yours.” Her voice wasn’t argumentative. It was pleading. That was worse.

  “I don’t belong here.”

  “And you belong with them?”

  “I think so.” Life had made sense in Faerie. He knew his place. He knew the risks. Things in Tir were complicated, impossible to follow. Petty. All these wars and shifting allegiances and minor differences between peoples that became insurmountable obstacles. Faerie was petty too, but it knew it was petty. A grievous insult was forgotten the next day. A passionate affair was spent within hours.

  “Do you love her?” Katharine asked.

  He could admit it. But that would hurt her. He didn’t want to hurt her. But if he didn’t answer she would take that as admission anyway.

  The road disappeared beneath their feet and ended in more forest. They stopped.

  “Would it matter if I did?” he replied.

  “Yes.” Her voice was no more than a whisper. He was glad of the darkness.

  He lifted the Glass to his eye. The world twisted and bent and there, to the left, what had seemed like just more trees was revealed to be a perfect circle.

  “There’s a Circle,” he said.

  “We had best hurry.” Tom couldn’t see Neirin, nor the other Easterners; their black robes made for perfect camouflage in the dark. “We do not have much time.”

  There was torchlight and panicked cries behind them. Tom nodded, then remembered he couldn’t be seen. “Follow my voice,” he said. He stepped towards the Circle, talking all the while. “Stay calm. Do as I say. I will keep you safe.”

  The horses filed between the trees until Katharine was the last. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said.

  Tom looked at her through the Glass. The Circle seemed clear and pure, like clean, crisp water on a hot day. Katharine was distorted by comparison, muddy and unclear. “You don’t want me to,” he said. Then he stepped inside the circle with her.

  “There’s magic here,” Six said. He was right. Stepping into the Circle was like jumping into a pond of magic. It made Tom gasp.

  He pocketed the Glass, knelt and said, “As a true servant of the fay, a loyal man to King Midhir and Queen Maev, I humbly beseech entrance into your realm.”

  There was a long moment in which he could hear nothing but the breathing of the others and the occasional shift and stamp from the horses.

  “If we did not know better we might think your knee was fixed to the ground, good Tom, so often do we see you kneeling.”

  It was not the voice he had been hoping for. But it was a balm nonetheless. High-pitched and full of mischief. Tom kept his head bowed but allowed a smile on his face.

  “A knee is a small thing to give, Robin Goodfellow.”

  “Nay, for a giant it is a very great thing.” Robin was a brownie, the largest of them, as tall as a boy of maybe ten summers, but not of the same proportion. His limbs were long and his head over-sized and he was covered head to toe in light brown fur, with not a stitch to cover him. He crawled around Tom on hands and feet as he spoke.

  “I am no giant.”

  “Not of Cei�
��s line, no. No, you are a very different manner of man indeed.”

  Robin Goodfellow knew the true story of Sir Cei. Tom had hoped he was not so different.

  “And what manner of business brings this good-mannered man to our door?” Robin asked.

  “We travel with good purpose, Goodfellow.”

  “Good purpose to a Goodfellow, ‘tis good in itself. But is it to Faerie’s good or to your own, good Tom?”

  The word games. He’d forgotten the word games. He smiled again. He’d never got to play before, bound to silence as he was.

  “It is a good thing to be good, Goodfellow, and goodness is all to the good. But is it good to measure goodness by one’s own goods or by the goods of everyone else?”

  Robin giggled. It was not a pleasant sound but Tom had not heard it in so long. “We have taught you well, good Tom.”

  “I learnt from the best.”

  “Flattery, too. We had forgotten your silver tongue.”

  “I speak only truth these days.”

  Robin hissed. “Truth makes for no pranks, nor for funny tales.”

  “What is going on, Tom?” Neirin demanded. “We do not have long.”

  Tom looked up. Voices speaking in elfish were getting nearer. The Westerners were using the road to enter the forest. The Erhenni shouted and wailed as they were dragged from their refuge.

  “Robin, we are in peril. Please, grant us passage to Faerie.”

  “You have been gone from us a long time, good Tom,” the fay said.

  “Sent away.”

  “There was no compunction to stay away.”

  “I did not want to impose.”

  “Ho ho ho, but you do! You impose yourself and six others on our graces.”

  Tom felt a furry finger lift his chin. Robin had stopped in front of him, the brownie’s big eyes and sharp teeth glittering in the scant light.

  “You claim to love us,” he said. “But you stayed away.”

  “I apologise.”

  “Too little. Too late.” The brownie hopped into the shadows and vanished from sight. “We will not let you in.”

  No. No, they couldn’t. “Robin?” Silence. “Robin Goodfellow?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Closer they come.”

  “He’s let us down.”