Giant's Daughter

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  “Where are you headed?” I asked Angus. He was stomping down the main garden path with purpose, as if the way was familiar to him.

  “There’s a treasury in the eastern wing,” Angus replied. “It’s as good a place as any to start looking for answers.”

  “How do you know where the treasury is? Wait, don’t answer that,” I added, as visions of my brothers fair swimming in Seelie gold filled my mind’s eye.

  He shrugged. “What can I say, we got bored often enough and did some exploring. As far as I know Fionnlagh was none the wiser.”

  “Still, I don’t think it’s wise to just waltz into the treasury. I imagine the guards will have something to say about that.”

  Angus turned to face me and spread his arm wide. “What guards? This place is deserted.”

  He was right. We’d crossed the entire garden and were almost at the palace walls, yet we hadn’t seen another soul. Even so, Fionnlagh was a sneaky bastard, and I didn’t want to inadvertently trigger one of his traps.

  I spied a darkened corner of the gardens. From that corner came the sound of running water. “Let’s go over here for a moment,” I said, and I made my way toward the grotto. A stacked stone wall marked the boundary of the grotto, and the many vines that climbed the wall absorbed the mist kicked up from a small waterfall. The water emptied into a pool, and thick branches overhead blocked out most of the light.

  “Wait,” Angus called. “Anya, stop! You don’t want to go there!”

  His warnings told me what I suspected about the grotto was true. I stood at the edge of the pool and looked at my reflection in the rippling waters, wondering if Christopher was doing the same at Yggdrasil’s base. I couldn’t wait to hear about his adventure with the Norns.

  “Have you word of her?” came a raspy voice from behind me; the water spirit inhabiting this grotto was one of the fuath, the water demons that were also Fionnlagh’s children, and this child of the Seelie had come to talk. Before I could reply my noble brother crashed into the grotto, intent on rescuing me.

  “Anya get back!” Angus flailed about like a fish on dry land, tearing down vines and knocking aside the carefully arranged stonework. Being that the fuath was made entirely of black mist, Angus passed right through the creature and, with a mighty splash, landed in the pool.

  “Angus, you daft idiot,” I said. “The fuath are our friends.” I regarded at the ephemeral beast. “We are friends, aren’t we?”

  “We like friends,” the fuath replied. Not the answer I was looking for, but good enough for the moment. “Have you word for us?”

  “Word of what?” Angus demanded as he climbed out of the pool.

  “Nicnevin,” I replied. “The fuath have been helping us search for her.” Angus opened his mouth, glanced at the fuath, and closed it. My brother isn’t totally devoid of brains, then.

  “I’m sorry, but we have no new information about her,” I said. “We are still searching for her. My entire court, and the Unseelie, are devoting resources to the search. We will find your stepmother.” The fuath shrank in on itself, and my heart went out to the beast. The fuath may be Fionnlagh’s children, but he’d made them into monsters. Their stepmother, Nicnevin, was the only one who’d ever cared for them, and she was missing.

  “Nicnevin’s your ma?” Angus asked. “I never kent that.”

  “There’s much that goes on behind these walls that never sees the light of day,” the fuath hissed.

  “May I ask you about one of those events?” When the beast remained silent, I continued, “It may help us understand Fionnlagh a bit better, and help us find Nicnevin.”

  The fuath nodded. “Ask.”

  “Did you ever accompany Fionnlagh on the Wild Hunt?”

  “Yes,” he replied; I was certain the creature before me was male, because Fionnlagh had murdered all of his daughters at birth. And we called the fuath monsters. “We were the ones who snatched the souls, and we were the ones who sent them to their due.”

  “Their due? Do you mean you sent them to be punished?”

  “Not punishment. Payment. We brought them to the island to the west, and sent them through the altar stone.” The fuath’s smoky form went still. “They come.”

  “Who does?” I turned around, and saw the Conall, the leader of an ancient group of Picts who were also yet another band of Seelie mercenaries, approaching.

  “Have the Picts been bothering you?” I asked the fuath. Silence. When I turned back, the fuath was gone.

  “All hail the queen,” Conall called. “How can we help you, your majesty?”

  “All alone? I didn’t think you set foot out of doors without your band of merry men to protect you.”

  “This is my home,” Conall said. “What would I need protection from?” Conall narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?”

  Angus stood beside me and glowered at Conall. “Have a care how you speak to the Queen of Winter.”

  Conall’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t have a quick retort for Angus. It was amazing how quickly his courage waned when his men weren’t behind him. “What can I do for you?”

  “We were wondering about the sluagh,” I said, using the Gaelic word for the host of unforgiven dead. “Who will collect them this year?”

  “No one can collect them save my king,” Conall replied.

  “That won’t be happening,” I replied. “Why was he collecting them?”

  “So many questions,” Conall said. “It seems to me you should have thought to ask all of these before you froze my king solid. Why don’t you thaw him out and ask him what you will.”

  “This is pointless,” Angus said. “His brain’s as tiny as his cock. Come on, let’s find someone who kens a thing or two.”

  “Good plan.” I put my hand on Angus’s elbow and blinked us to the edge of the Seelie Court. Even at that distance we could hear Conall yelling about our sudden departure.

  “What a pathetic little man,” I began, then the fuath from the grotto materialized in front of us.

  “Hello again,” I said. “I take it you don’t like Conall either?”

  He growled a reply. Even though I couldn’t make out the words, I understood him just fine. “There is more, about the sluagh,” he said, much more clearerly.

  “What about them?”

  “Father owed them as payment for his court, his land, for everything Even us. He could not have done this,” he gestured to his smoky form, “without the sluagh.”

  “Was he using the host to transform you into...into this?” I asked.

  “He traded the souls for power.”

  So it was a debt. “Who did he owe?”

  “An ancient, evil creature, one who many thought was banished long ago. Papa owed his debt to Crom Cruach.”

  I grasped Angus’s arm, shocked that even Fionnlagh would sink to such a level. Crom Cruach had been known the world over as evil incarnate, and tales of his awful deeds were still told around campfires and to frighten children.

  “These souls, why does Crom want them?” I asked. “Is he hoarding power? Does he mean to return to this realm?”

  “Papa never told us,” the fuath replied. “But what else would he need the souls for?”

  The creature dissipated. Angus and I looked at each other. “Now what do we do?” I demanded.

  “Bollocks if I ken.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Chris

  SARMI AND HER STAFF did everything they could for the throne room, but no amount of cleaning or polishing could cover up the holes Bod had punched into the floor, or repair the shattered balustrade and stairs. As for the chandelier, that was the most lost cause in the history of lost causes. Since none of us knew how to repair a room made of ice and snow we’d just swept up the debris and shut the door. The room would just have to remain off limits until Anya returned to take care of the heavy lifting.

  It bothered me that Anya was going to return home to this mess. She’d been so excited to see Bod and her brothers again, and o
n his first night back Bod had gotten drunk and caused a scene at the Unseelie Court. Anya had been appalled by his behavior, but not surprised. In fact, no one had been surprised, either here or at the Unseelie palace. Bod getting hammered and causing a ruckus seemed to be the natural order of things.

  Speaking of the Unseelie, Maelgwyn and Beira had borne the brunt of Bod’s antics for centuries. I wondered if they would be willing to make some of the repairs to the Winter Palace to help out Anya. I’d just shut the throne room’s doors and resolved to contact the Unseelie when I heard Anya and Angus return.

  “Christopher?” she called.

  “Here.” A moment later I saw them round the corner into the corridor.

  “Hello, love,” Anya greeted. She saw the closed doors behind me and frowned. “What happened?”

  “What makes you think something happened?”

  “These doors have never once been shut, not when I was a wee bairn, and not since I’ve been back.” I stepped aside, and Anya approached the doors and shoved them open. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as she took in the damage.

  “Bod was trying to get to Fionnlagh,” I said. “The Ninth got him out of the room, then he ran off. Fionnlagh’s still where he’s supposed to be.”

  “Ran off where?” Angus demanded. “Where did Da go?”

  “No idea,” I replied. “He jumped out a window and was gone.”

  “I’ll rally the rest and track him down,” Angus said, then he put his hand on Anya’s shoulder. “It’s just a floor and some walls. We can fix it.”

  Anya nodded. “Aye. That we can.”

  Angus squeezed her shoulder. “There’s a lass.”

  I watched him walk down the corridor and turn toward the stairs that led to the brothers’ dormitory. “Think they can find him?”

  “I can’t believe he did this.” Anya took a step into the throne room. “My own Da did this to my home.”

  I came up beside her and snaked my arm around her waist. She molded herself to my side, but didn’t look away from the destruction. “He did. No one else was involved, just Bod.”

  “You’re not going to make excuses for him? Tell me I should look kindly upon him because he’s my da?”

  “No. I’m not.” I cupped her face with my hands. After a moment, she met my gaze. “What Bod did was awful, and I’m not going to apologize for him. That’s for him to do. But Angus was right. There’s nothing broken in here that isn’t fixable.”

  She pulled me against her, and for a few minutes we held each other. Anya’s breathing was ragged and her shoulders trembled, but I didn’t call her on it. She needed time to process what had happened, not my half-assed advice.

  “You’re right,” she said. “You’re always right.”

  “I have many former students who would dispute that.” Anya laughed, and I felt a surge of happiness. I loved making her happy. “How can I help clean this room up?”

  “For now I think it’s best to leave it be.” We separated, and after Anya gave the mess one last look, we left the throne room. As Anya shut and bolted the doors, she said, “Pity about the chandelier. I have no idea how Mum created it in the first place.”

  “We can always go modern, and install some electric lights.”

  Anya smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “How were things with the Norns?”

  “Confusing,” I replied, then I told her everything that had transpired with Rina and me around the roots of Yggsdrasil. By the time the story was complete we had relocated to the library, and Anya was holding the bottle of well water.

  “Fascinating,” she said, as she turned the bottle from side to side. “Have you had any of the water yet?”

  “Hell no. Having a drink of this water is probably a once in a lifetime opportunity, like three wishes from a genie. I don’t want to squander it.”

  “Caution is probably best.” She set the bottle on the table. “While you were at Yggsdrasil, Angus and I went to the Seelie Court and spoke to a fuath. The beast claims that Fionnlagh led the Wild Hunt and collected souls in order to make offerings to Crom Cruach.”

  “That sounds pretty sketchy. Who’s this Crom guy?”

  “He’s a fertility god from the old days,” she replied. “All the tales claim he was an awful beast, right down to his core. Even so, his followers were a devoted lot. They made offerings to him of milk, grain, and flesh.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Flesh?”

  “Aye. Many of the old ones took human sacrifice. Not Mum,” she added. “The changing seasons were what fed her power. My power.”

  I recalled the party Demeter had thrown for her followers, a regular bacchanal in the heart of New York. “Then I assume accepting human sacrifices was a quick power boost for Crom.”

  “Oh, most definitely.”

  I tapped the table. “Do we want him to be powerful?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If we don’t complete the Wild Hunt, and therefore don’t feed Crom any souls, he would therefore be less powerful. Assuming, of course, the souls are his primary means of obtaining power.” I leaned back in my chair. “There’s also the question of what happens to these souls after they get handed off to Crom. What if they end up in a hell dimension? If they do, do we really want to be part of that?”

  “Absolutely not,” Anya said. “I’ll not have the first year of my reign marred by damning mortal souls.” She bit her lip, and added, “If they really were damned. What if Crom somehow uplifts them?”

  “You mean he might send them to Crom heaven?” I asked, and she smiled again. That time it reached her eyes, and lit up her entire face. “All right, we have a new mission. How can we find out what happens to these souls?”

  “I supposed I can ask Maelgwyn, and Mum,” Anya said. “Being that they’re both old ones, they may know something of Crom. Would you like to accompany me?”

  “I’d like to, but should really talk to Rina,” I said. “She was pretty upset when the Norns told us that I was more like our mother than she is.”

  “It’s hard to live up to the memory of one’s parent. I am an expert on such emotions.” Anya stood and smoothed her shirt down over her waist. “Very well. I shall bring you to the flat, then I will speak with Maelgwyn.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re one hot taxi driver?”

  “Now there’s a summer occupation I hadn’t considered.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anya

  I BLINKED CHRISTOPHER to the hallway outside our flat’s front door, and after we said our goodbyes I went directly to the Unseelie Court. While I went out of my way to not arrive unexpectedly in the middle of Karina and Robert’s home, I did not afford the same courtesy to Maelgwyn. Our relationship was no secret—in fact, it was becoming less secret by the day—but I tried to limit how often I was seen walking in and out of his court because I did not want to see overly familiar with my blood father. There were always those willing to exploit such familial ties, and I would rather not deal with any of that. I’m sure he didn’t, either.

  To that end I arrived in the corridor outside the main receiving room, which was devoid of servants and other onlookers. Thank the gods for that bit of fortune. After I wandered about the palace looking for the king and his consort, one of the footmen informed me that Maelgwyn had been in his library for the better part of the day, with strict instructions that he not be disturbed. He had no news about Mum’s whereabouts, and based on his face he preferred it that way.

  “Thank you,” I said to the footman, then I turned on my heel and made straight for the library in question. Was it presumptuous of me to assume Maelgwyn would welcome my presence above all others? Most definitely, but I was confident that once I asked him about Fionnlagh’s connection to Crom Cruach, he would understand my brash behavior. Whether he appreciated it or not remained to be seen.

  As I walked down the corridor my attention was drawn to the rich tapestries that lined the walls. They were exquisite
ly woven, the detail so fine I recognized Maelgwyn in a scene; he was standing in a summer meadow, surrounded by dancing children. The next tapestry was him in winter, gazing toward a woman atop a mountain; the woman and the terrain were both garbed in white. Mum. When I saw the third tapestry, which featured him and the same woman locked in combat, I realized that the tapestries told the story of Maelgwyn, from the time he was the Summer King, to when he had whatever he’d had with Mum, and to today. It was his legacy, and mine, too.

  I noticed many more tapestries upon the walls, but instead of seeing what stories were woven into them I went back to the second tapestry, the one where Maelgwyn watched Mum from afar. I wondered if he’d fallen in love with her first, or if Mum had pursued him. Either way she had such a profound impact on his life, and he on hers. And now that they were finally together again I’d gone and thrown Da between them.

  Well, what else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let Da and the boys languish in those holes under Glen Lyon any longer, not when I had the power to free them. To be honest I really thought that once Da was free, Mum would leave the Unseelie Court behind and we would be a family again. The events of yesterday had proven what a naïve hope that had been.

  Forgoing the library for the moment, I slipped down a side passage and made my way toward the royal apartment. If I knew Mum she was having her midafternoon tea. When I entered the room I saw her seated in front of the garden windows, cup in hand.

  “Anya, how lovely,” Mum said. “What brings you by today? Wait, don’t tell me Bod and the boys are up to mischief again so soon.”

  “They aren’t. Well, perhaps they are, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  Mum poured me a cup of tea, and pushed a tray of cakes toward me. “Then tell me why my sweet lass has come to visit.”

  I took two pieces of cake. Conversations such as these required ballast, the more the better. “Why were you hiding from Da?”

  She plucked at her skirt. “I wasn’t.”