Only the magical strength of the changelings had saved the Sluagh Sidhe from outright slaughter as the dragons had driven them back to the very borders of Bruagh-na-Boyne. At least she had gained a name to place next to Finaarva: Tigano. He was the faery who led the changelings, the being whose death was necessary to sate the vengeance of the dragons. However, he remained as faceless as Finaarva, never seen in battle, a mere reputation. How could she fight that?
She fumed now that her enemies were safely ensconced in their glen. Faery was now free from Finaarva’s control, but so long as he and Tigano lived, the dragons would have to patrol his glen. They could never relax their vigilance. More importantly, they could never follow their destiny on the Enlightened Paths if they remained as the guardians of Faery. Yet could they do anything less while those two faeries lived?
For long minutes, she continued to circle, her hong remaining in a tight V as they awaited her direction. Occasionally she would see movement within the edge of the glen, possibly some changeling, but the only faeries she could see were Oberon’s army as they marshalled on the near side of the Cathaoir River. She wondered if they too were as obsessed with vengeance. They would certainly be just as frustrated as she by the magical dome.
Finally, she admitted she could do no more. However, just as she was about to order her dragons to revert to their ascended state, a glimmer in the air several wingspans away drew her eye. Another hong twinkled into view, and she instantly recognized the rich blue scales of the lead dragon as her older brother.
“Tian!” she shouted, wondering what he was doing here. He and his dragons drifted lazily towards them, their long necks snaking from side to side as they studied the arena below. Behind them, at least three more hongs twinkled out of their ascended state, gliding behind Wu Tian’s hong.
“Little sister!” he said, his wide mouth grinning. “Congratulations on another battle won!”
“Won? Hardly,” she snorted. “The changelings have eluded us once more.”
“Where’s Ao Shun?” Wu Fei asked as he edged between them. She glared at him, irritated.
“That’s why my hong and I are here,” said Wu Tian. “Now is the time to implement the next part of Ao Shun’s plan.”
“Already?” she asked, her wrath twisting into eagerness.
Her older brother smiled, a gleam of desire in his eyes and she knew he shared her desire to utterly destroy the changelings.
“Did you note where the changelings passed through Finaarva’s wall?” he asked.
She nodded and pointed towards the inlet. “There was a warping of light about two-thirds of the distance from this shore every time a faery crossed that point.”
“That must be the gate, then,” said Wu Tian. “Well, sister, how should we attack?”
She wanted them all to swoop down, all the hongs together, and unleash fireballs that would empty their gullets and expunge Faery of Finaarva, Tigano, and every changeling of the Sluagh Sidhe. Such an attack would be fruitless, at least at this point. The dragons could not attack Finaarva’s dome, not directly. It was supposed to be impenetrable unless they joined with Oberon’s magic. But the faery king was not here, nor was Ao Shun.
Her ire scalded. To be so close to victory, yet to have failed ate at her. Was she not the First Ascendant of the Colors? Her might, joined with the rest of the colors, should be sufficient. Her destiny was to lead her dragons to the stars. How could she be worthy if she could not defeat faeries?
Trying to restore her calm, she let out a lengthy sigh, seeking serenity the way her father had once taught her. Smoke billowed from her nostrils, wreathing her head. Tranquility did not come easily, especially after their months of training with Ao Shun, but she would not fail, not in front of her dragons.
As the hongs circled with her above the river, stillness came, if not the harmony she sought, and with it, a plan.
Finally, she wheeled to face the others, her wings fluttering as she hovered.
“Tian, your hong must attack first and test the defenses. Have your dragons use different strengths of fire, different heights, different distances. Other hongs will follow with combinations when we see what might weaken the dome.”
“What of the guardian?” asked Wu Fei.
She paused, realizing she had forgotten Ao Shun’s warning of the beasts that reportedly dwelt in the river, guarding the points of entrance in the dome where the Sluagh Sidhe could pass through. No dragon had ever seen them, and Oberon’s description seemed greatly exaggerated.
Shrugging, she said, “If there is one guarding this gate, it will show itself. My hong’s strength is sufficient. We will watch for it and attack should it appear. Tian, once you spot the weakness in the gate, destroy it. The other hongs will follow where you lead. If there is no guardian, my hong will join you. Today, Finaarva’s power will be broken.”
Her brothers nodded, their faces wary. It went unsaid how savage the Sluagh Sidhe would be now that their glen was under attack.
“Mercy?” asked Tian.
Her face grew harder than it had been since the death of their parents. “None,” she answered. “Now, begin.”
Wu Tian and his dragons circled once, then soared downward without hesitation, gathering speed, their bellies so bright that the Cathaoir River glowed orange. She gave orders to the other hongs curtly, nerves battling the fire building in her gullet, then led her hong directly above the inlet where they were certain the faeries had crossed the dome’s magic. From here they could strike quickly should the gate guardian appear.
Wu Fei circled below her and the rest of their hong. As they watched Tian’s approach, he seemed more eager than her for retribution. She knew he would not hesitate to attack if their brother appeared in any sort of danger, but had no desire to order him back if that happened.
As Wu Tian neared the expected point of the gate, he cast a wide breath of flame rather than a simple fireball. The inferno shot out just above the water then, about twenty feet from shore, spread abnormally to either side and Finaarva’s dome appeared where struck by the blaze, glowing redly before quickly cooling. The remaining warriors of his hong each launched controlled fireballs at spots near where his conflagration had struck. The first few blasts all veered in unnatural patterns. As each struck, the dome glowed from the heat. With the last two, however, bluish light sparkled and crackled like bits of lightning.
Wu Tian’s hong whirled up and back for their second approach, diving towards the spot where the bluish light had appeared. The river beneath the light began to swirl, then boil. Suddenly, just as Wu Tian released a narrow, white-hot fireball towards the dome’s weakened spot, a giant form exploded out of the Cathaoir. Water cascaded off the sinuous body like a waterfall as it uncoiled. She gasped, astonished at the size of it, wondering how such a thing could hide in the river. It was at least thrice her length. Enormous golden eyes swiveled in all directions on either side of its reptilian head and long tentacles flailed from its serpent-like, algae-green body as if seeking prey. It howled an ear-splitting shriek from a mouth wide enough to swallow several faeries and its teeth were the size of dragon talons.
Every dragon whirled to meet this new threat, but before any fireball could be fired, the creature’s tentacles wrapped around Wu Tian. He flapped his wings furiously in an effort to rise and break free, but the look in his eyes quickly evolved from a warrior’s fury to a drowning victim’s panic. Both Wu Zhao and Wu Fei dove and unleashed massive fireballs, but to little avail. The creature flinched as they struck, scorching its skin, yet it still pulled Wu Tian within reach of its gaping mouth. Horrified, she lunged at the monster, raking its face and tearing an eye just as its mouth snapped shut on her brother’s neck. Wu Tian screamed briefly as the teeth pierced his scales, then collapsed.
Wu Fei had already shredded the guardian’s other eye and the rest of the dragons followed, their claws rending the soft flesh until the creature’s shrieks turned to screeches of agony. Soon the guardian—blinded, torn,
and burned—sank back into the river and out of reach, dragging Wu Tian’s body with it.
As the dragons focused on the beast and Wu Tian’s death, multiple bolts of red, purple, and green light burst from the woods of Bruagh-na-Boyne. Some missed, but several exploded as they struck their targets. Three dragons fell spinning in death spirals. Others struggled to not fall, ragged holes in the membrane of their wings.
“Finaarva!” she screamed. Hatred filled her, a rage that fueled the fire in her gullet. She dove recklessly, her crimson scales ablaze, heedless of a second round of the magical faerie missiles. As she opened her mouth, small forms behind the trees scattered, throwing their weapons aside.
She and her brothers had often wondered how large a fireball they could make, especially when they played above the ocean. Those attempts had been nothing but smoldering embers compared to the inferno that exploded out of her, striking Finaarva’s magic wall with thunderous impact. For a couple of seconds, the dome bloomed white from the heat before blue lightning seared its form in all directions. Then it shattered like glass, spewing shards that sizzled as they landed in the river or smoked where they struck the ground.
The dome’s jagged hole was enormous, its edges sputtering with flame, and more fireballs followed. Trees burst into bonfires and faeries screamed as they fled deeper into the woods, several in flames.
“Regroup!” she ordered, whirling up, ready to launch another attack, but the fury that blazed in her belly turned to ice in a moment. Several dragons now floated lifeless in the river or on the shore below. Others struggled to hover, daylight showing through ragged holes in their wings. Only she and a handful of others had escaped unscathed from the two sets of faerie attacks. Then she recognized one of the bodies. Wu Fei lay sprawled inanimate on the shore.
Chapter 11
The Faery
Tigano paced blindly through the dimly lit passageway, hands behind his back, muttering.
“She’s late, she’s late,” he mumbled under his breath. Back hunched, he didn’t see Hagr Twyllo until he marched into it. The short, grey-skinned goblin staggered, dropping the stack of boxes he carried.
“Sorry, master, sorry.” The goblin scurried to stuff the spilled contents back in, while cringing as if awaiting an expected blow.
Instead, Tigano found himself forcing his hand to his side, merely rounding on the servant. “Where is she, Hagr? She’s late!”
The goblin’s bulging orange eyes slowly rose to meet his, fear turning to curiosity.
“The mistress, master.” Hagr said hesitantly. “Is she not back yet?”
He reached out and grabbed both of Hagr Twyllo’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. “What will I do if Finaarva or Lord Månefè discovers what she’s doing? What will I do?”
The goblin’s dark slitted pupils widened, its orange eyes bright, and he realized his panic had overwhelmed his carefully constructed walls. He recognized that look. It peered back at him whenever he looked in a mirror as a long-laid plan came to fruition.
“I…I am sure the mistress will be fine, master,” Hagr stammered as if uncertain whether to comfort the master or undermine the new mistress. Tigano knew the goblin must have overheard their arguments, that she did not trust the creature, and sought to limit its access to the master’s magic paraphernalia. However, she was always nice to Hagr, always smiling at it, and never striking it, even if she didn’t like or trust it. He had warned her about being kind to the servants; now he had restrained himself and the goblin was showing signs of impertinence. Still, he found himself strangely unable to do anything more than stand there expectantly.
“The mistress is strong and wise,” it finally croaked. “She will return. But master, I have learned something…”
“She was due back yesterday, Hagr,” he said, ignoring the goblin. “If she fails…I have given her too much of my own magic. I cannot survive if Finaarva or Lord Månefè discover what she is about and choose to attack me, even here.”
Damnation! he cursed himself silently. Stop showing weakness!
At that moment, a gong echoed throughout the passageways. Someone was entering the stump that was the entryway to his home.
“The mistress! She’s back!” shouted Hagr Twyllo.
He had not given leave to any of his servants, and a faery could enter only if they carried a silver ring like his, an anathema to most of them. He had crafted one for her shortly after their wedding to carry with her so that she could freely come and go as she pleased.
He frowned, uncertainty creasing his brow. A powerful enchantment woven by many faeries in unity could break the stump’s protective magic. He said, “Unless Månefè has sent an army to destroy us.”
*****
One week earlier—the morning after she had prepared a small feast to celebrate the first month of their marriage—Lady Àibell had reached across the table to touch his hand reassuringly and he knew he could not deny her.
“I can do this, Tigano,” she had stated emphatically. “If you truly trust me, you must show me now.”
It was all he could do to not tremble as his wife’s small, slender fingers brushed his skin. Even the mere sight of her striding through a hallway was enough to cause a shiver up his spine. She had so enthralled him that, just a few days after their sudden wedding, he’d ordered Hagr Twyllo to surreptitiously examine both of them to see if she’d somehow managed to place a glamour on him.
The goblin had found nothing, not even a hint of a mesmer, so Tigano had gone to his chamber of sorcery, the one place he denied his wife. For several days, he performed test after magical test trying to determine how she had so enthralled him, even applying some of his precious dragon blood in his last experiment. But again, there was nothing, no hint of any enchantment she might have used.
He thought he’d been discreet while performing his research, charging Hagr Twyllo with integrating her family into his spy network. He’d foolishly assumed her redecoration of their home would keep her too occupied to notice what he was up to. She’d firmly ended that plan, however, demanding he leave the goblin out of any of his machinations having to do with her or her family. She was willing to reconnoiter in the court, but any spy network would be hers if he expected her family to snoop for him.
He’d reluctantly agreed, ordering Hagr to stay away from the room he’d given her as an office. The goblin had not been pleased, for he had given it free reign to his entire home before she had moved in. He would have to find ways to appease Hagr until the little creature fully accepted Àibell as its mistress.
After the scrumptious dinner of Scotch bonnet mushrooms, pixie pears, and honey cakes, she had led them to their bedchamber. The fire was already lit, and the scent of summer lilacs filled the room. Once Spartan, their chamber was now wreathed with fir garlands at the edges of the ceiling and a small birch tree at either side of the bed. Faery lights twinkled, some embedded in the garlands and others floating like dust motes. He’d even had Hagr test her renovation to see if she’d secreted a glamour, but the goblin had once more found nothing.
She’d placed a rustic wicker divan with leafy cushions in front of the river rock fireplace. The couch belonged in a sunny garden, not hidden in this dungeon of a home, but he would awake most mornings to find her curled up in it, sipping at her hot nectar, waiting for him to join her for at least a few minutes. This night, she had dragged him to the divan, plopping onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.
When she had started to scratch his back along the wing joints, he could no longer resist, and his lips began to lightly kiss her cheek, working slowly down her neck.
“Tigano,” she had whispered. “Tigano!” she had said a little more forcefully when he didn’t stop. “Listen to me.”
With a martyr’s sigh, he had sat up, knowing he would have to listen if he wanted any more kisses.
“I have a plan, my husband, one that could gain us a measure of revenge on Månefè.”
“Revenge?” he’d asked,
then smirked. “I don’t know if I mind anymore…”
She’d kissed his forehead, then said seriously, “You lost standing to him in court with our marriage. I gained, however, and I can use that to our advantage. If our children—and my family—are to survive, you must regain that standing.”
He’d nodded, knowing she was right. As she’d unveiled her plot, he’d known it was not only possible, but that only she could do it. It was intricate and cunning, and he’d been shocked by her shrewdness. If she was caught, it could ruin them, but should she succeed…
“Tigano!” she’d said sharply, bringing him out of his reverie. “I will only do this on two conditions, do you hear me? You may not involve any member of my family in your schemes, and you must stop your experiments.”
“My experiments?” That had shocked him. He’d had no idea up to that point that she knew anything about the dark magic he performed in his chamber.
“The abominable ones. They are worthy only of Månefè. You are the better faery.”
He’d snorted, although he knew it was worthless to deny his sorcery.
“I am a changeling,” he’d stated flatly. “What else can I do?”
The moment she’d taken his face between her hands, forcing him to gaze into her large brown eyes, he’d known he would acquiesce.
“Have you once seen me disparage you? Have you once heard me belittle you? Finaarva’s court might scorn changelings, but they are wrong. Their prejudice should burn their hearts like this silver has burned my hand!”
She’d held the back of her hand in front of his face. The skin of her middle finger beneath the silver ring he’d made for her was red and raw, and he’d winced, realizing she’d not once merely carry it in a pocket.
Before he could apologize, she had said, “I am proud to wear this ring, Tigano. I am proud you trust me, and I am proud I am your wife, changeling or no.”
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