Giant's Daughter

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  Da stepped onto the stairs. “We have fire and we have ice, and, most importantly, we have my strength. We are well equipped to learn what else awaits us in Crom’s lair.”

  While Maelgwyn held the torch aloft we descended below the graves, but to my surprise we did not enter a parallel plane of existence. The dirt above us was the same soil we’d just trod upon, with the tree roots and the undersides of coffins clearly visible; amazingly, all of those coffins and roots stayed put, a clue to the massive amount of power at play in this subterranean room. As for the rest of the chamber, the walls and floor were made of dressed stone similar to a crypt beneath a church.

  “What is this place?” I wondered, stopping to examine a wall niche. Instead of a statue or font, it held a pile of bones. “Are these human?”

  Da peeked over my shoulder. “Aye. Looks like they were someone’s fingers.”

  I glanced up at the coffins. “I wonder if the priest has been raiding the burials.”

  “Or if the god himself steals the dead,” Maelgwyn said. We reached the far end of the chamber, and the way beyond was blocked by a wrought iron gate. Maelgwyn thrust the torch between the iron bars, illuminating a storage room.

  “What could be in those boxes?” I wondered.

  “They’re not boxes.” Maelgwyn crushed the lock with his bare hand and pushed the gate open. We entered the room, and once the torchlight revealed the contents I understood. Stacked up along each wall and up to the ceiling were more coffins. Some of the coffins were stone, and some were wood, and some were little more than bundles of bones caught up in linen shrouds.

  And some didn’t seem very old at all.

  “Are... Are people still being sacrificed to this creature?” I demanded, aghast. “Who would be making sacrifices in this day and age?”

  Da and Maelgwyn shared a glance. “Och, lass, at times I forget how young you truly are,” Da said. “Times past sacrifice was the order of the day. The common folk thought it best to keep the blood flowing, as it were. Thought it kept them safe from the likes of us.”

  “Did it?” I asked.

  “Yes and no,” Da replied. “Now, no one ever sacrificed a human in my name, at least not that I’m aware of, but I was given plenty of tribute. The crofts that took the best care of me were the ones I spared when I, ah, went out into the world.”

  I remembered when Da regularly went out among mortals, drinking and carousing and toppling mountains in Mum’s name. “And you?” I asked Maelgwyn.

  “I never demanded blood, but it was given to me more often than not,” he replied. “I appreciated the tributes left for me, and did my best to look after the people. I strived to be the custodian of the land, rather than its overlord.”

  “And see where that got you,” Da muttered.

  “Say the man who spent the last two hundred years in a hole in the ground,” Maelgwyn retorted.

  I left my fathers bickering behind and moved further into the room. A second stairwell was at the far end, and it promised to take me even deeper into the earth. Since we were told to go beneath, down I went. A greenish glow emanated from the base of the stairs, bright enough to guide me but not for me to truly discern what I was looking at.

  At the bottom of the stairs was water. It was shallow, not even reaching the first step, but it was stagnant and smelled awful. Along with the stench and the glow came the faint sound of keening.

  “Da,” I called over my shoulder. “There’s something alive down here.”

  I heard Da’s heavy footsteps, saw Maelgwyn’s accompanying torchlight flickering behind me. Da plunged into the dark, still water, heedless of the stench or whatever beasties may be lurking in its depths. He was a giant, after all, and had trekked through many swamps and bogs in his day. Maelgwyn and I waited on the stairs. It wasn’t long before Da called out from the recesses of the crypt.

  “Udane,” Da bellowed, using Maelgwyn’s old name. “You’ll want to see this with your own two eyes.”

  We moved forward, and I was grateful that the water remained shallow. Along the left side of the flooded chamber was an archway closed off with yet more iron bars. Da stood in front of it, pointing at a symbol at the apex of the arch. Carved into the granite was an image of a stag in front of an oak tree.

  “The tree and the stag,” Maelgwyn murmured. “It was my symbol, before.”

  “What is it doing here,” I said, peering beyond the bars.

  Maelgwyn’s torch guttered and went out. “So much for light,” he muttered as he tossed the extinguished torch aside.

  I touched Maelgwyn’s arm. “The keening, it comes from within.”

  Da grasped two of the bars and ripped them from their places. “Onward we go,” he said, as he stepped into the room. With no other options, Maelgwyn and I followed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chris

  AFTER I PASSED THROUGH Remy’s Place, and downed my complimentary shot of whisky, I took my time walking through Glasgow. The lights were up on Buchanan Street, and the way was filled with tourists and locals alike seeking a good time. Despite the crush of people, I felt safe. In fact, I’d always felt safe in Glasgow. Being that I’d grown up in New York, and now lived primarily in Elphame, there was nothing in Glasgow that scared me. At least, nothing in the present time scared me. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?

  Actually, tomorrow didn’t matter. Whatever happens, bad, good, or indifferent, Anya and I will handle it.

  I found myself walking along the banks of the River Clyde, a romantic stroll that I wished Anya was sharing with me. I thought about her and Maelgwyn, who were in Ireland trying to locate Bod, and, with any luck, Maelgwyn’s missing children. I couldn’t imagine how Maelgwyn felt, first with the shocking loss of his children, and now with the spark of hope that he might learn their fates. To be that devastated, then to only have all of that pain brought back to the surface years later...

  I shook my head, the thoughts having been too much for me. I’d known my share of loss, but losing a child must be unbearable, and Maelgwyn had lost all of his children at once. How he’d survived without going mad was beyond me... or maybe he had gone mad, if only for a short time. I recalled how he’d been ransacking the Unseelie Court as he searched for his crown. Maybe he was still mad.

  An image of Faith flashed behind my eyes, along with the memory of her burbling laugh. Rina said most of her smiles and laughs were due to gas, but I knew better. Faith loved her Uncle Chris, and she made sure to laugh at all of my jokes. I also knew that if anything ever happened to her I would move heaven and earth to help her.

  I stopped walking, and gazed at the brightly lit Clyde Arc where it spanned the river. Despite all the relationships I’ve had I’d never really thought about having children, not until I moved to Scotland with Anya. She was so generous and caring, and I couldn’t help but imagine her and I with a house filled with children... But was that wise? After learning what had befallen Maelgwyn’s children, not to mention the horrible fates of other residents of Elphame, I wondered if it was a good idea to bring more children into this world. Maybe I should just take my happiness with Anya, and be grateful for that. Then again, it would be nice to give Faith a playmate.

  When I finally got to the flat, everyone was asleep. Not surprising, since it was the middle of the night; with me spending so much time in the Winter Palace time tended to get away from me. Anya claimed that all those folk tales about time passing differently in Elphame were nothing but fiction, but I can attest that when you take a modern man and stick him in a place without clocks or phones it’s hard to keep track of the hours. That, and I kept forgetting to wear my watch.

  I opened my laptop, and was promptly confronted with a packed inbox with messages from my agent, publisher, and other literary folks. Right, I’m supposed to be working on a novel. I loved writing, but putting out another book didn’t seem as important as it once had. The way things were going meant that it might never seem important again.

  Since I
was well acquainted with regret, I wrote myself a note to review these emails in the morning, then I plugged in my phone. While it charged I went into the kitchen to make some tea. I’d just filled the kettle when Rob came out of the study to see what all the noise was about.

  “Sorry I didn’t call first,” I said, but he only shrugged.

  “’Tis your home,” he said as he found a mug for himself. “Be in it whenever ye like.”

  “I’m surprised Rina’s not up.” My sister had been a night owl since birth, much to my parents’ chagrin.

  “She claimed exhaustion, and went to be shortly after she put Faith down for the night,” Rob replied. “I thought it best to let them rest.”

  I almost asked Rob if Rina told him about what we learned from the Norns, but didn’t. She had probably already told him, but what if she hadn’t? Everything we’d learned about our mother had left her rather shaken, and she might need time to come to terms with everything.

  “Rina said you were at the cottage earlier,” I said, instead. “Is the construction coming along well?”

  “The work is being done well, but slowly.” Rob paused, and said, “‘Tis beyond strange, but while I have no doubt of the craftsmen’s skill, they get hardly any work done in a day. ‘Tis as if someone has bespelled them to move as slowly as possible.”

  I froze, mug in hand. “Do you think something supernatural is involved?”

  “Truly, I have no notion. And why would anyone wish to lay a hex on me home?” I gave Rob a look. “I attribute that foolish question to the late hour. How goes things at the Winter Palace?”

  “Interesting,” I said. “Bod had a tantrum and nearly destroyed Anya’s throne room, and we think Angus stole Maelgwyn’s crown.”

  “Is that why you’re here? To hide out from the boys?”

  “No, but them not being here is a definite plus.” The kettle whistled, and I filled our mugs. We were having tea American style, with tea bags. Rina’s corruption of Rob was complete.

  “Does Maelgwyn ken Angus took the crown?” Rob asked.

  “We’re not certain that Angus did it, but he is our prime suspect,” I replied. “Maelgwyn’s more worried about finding his children.”

  Rob set his mug down on the counter. “What children?”

  “The children he had while he was the Summer King. You know how Fionnlagh turned out to be a madman,” I began, and Rob nodded. “Well, this whole business with the Wild Hunt was apparently Fionnlagh’s way to gain enough power to become the Seelie King. It’s why he collected souls.”

  Rob crossed his arms over his chest. “Ye are incorrect. Those souls were collected by Fionnlagh, yes, but they were given a new life in Elphame for as long as they consented to be his servants.”

  I could have sworn the floor fell out from underneath my feet. “What?”

  “Later. Why is Maelgwyn searching for children that long since passed?”

  “He was told that Fionnlagh killed them, and gave their souls to Crom,” I replied.

  “Crom?” Rob yelled. “Are ye referrin’ to Crom Cruach, as close to a devil as ever existed in this land?”

  “Um, yeah. One of the fuath told Anya—”

  “The fuath,” Rob scoffed. “Did it no’ occur to any o’ ye that the fuath are evil? Liars and murderers is what they are.”

  “But why would they—” Realization smacked me hard in the face. “They sent Anya and Maelgwyn after Crom so he would kill them.”

  Rob’s sword materialized in his hand. “Where are they now?”

  “They went to Ireland,” I replied. “We saw a news report about some boulders that were consecrated to Crom. They’d been smashed to pieces, and we though the Bodach was responsible.”

  Rob pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did it no’ occur to any of ye before ye ran off half-cocked that if Crom seeks retribution against the Seelie corner o’ Elphame for having been unjustly accused by the fuath and who knows who else, that corner may collapse?”

  “What may collapse? The court?”

  “No. Elphame itself.”

  “Maybe we should let it collapse,” I said. “Nothing good comes from that place.”

  Rob squeezed his eyes shut, his spine straight and fists clenched. I got the impression he was trying not to hit me. “Evidently ye do no’ understand the whole of what Elphame is,” he ground out. “’Tis no’ just the Seelie and their lot playing at tricks and games. There are people, as well.”

  “People? Like captives?”

  “Families,” Rob said. “Just as people pair off and raise their bairns here on this plane, the same happens in Elphame. If the plane collapses, ye are dooming them all.”

  I sucked in my breath. “Families, like farmers, craftsmen? Schoolchildren?”

  “Aye,” Rob said. “Hundreds if no’ thousands of innocent lives.”

  I swallowed hard. “All right. We need to fix this. Should I call up the Ninth?”

  “No’ yet, but keep the aquila close. We may yet have need of it.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Anya

  THE FURTHER WE WENT into the crypt, the stranger things became.

  For one, the caskets and other bundles of bones that were so abundant near the entrance to this underworld had dwindled down to almost nothing. It made me wonder if those remains had once been parishioners of the ruined church above, rather than sacrifices to Crom. Perhaps their graves had needed to be moved, or perhaps they couldn’t be interred close to their time of death for one reason or another, and their bones had been forgotten. There were many reasons to leave a body unburied.

  However, I could think of no rational explanation for the passage through which we now walked. The dressed stone and columns of the crypt were gone, and the water had long since dried out, revealing a shining black tile floor. It was a welcome reprieve to not have to slog through the standing muck, but soon after the water’s departure the walls and ceiling went from masonry to packed earth, and then to the interior of a cave. Throughout it all the tile floor remained, along with the eerie green glow.

  “Why would someone tile a cave floor,” I said.

  “To make it level,” Da suggested, but he didn’t sound convinced. If the Bodach thought the state of things in the cave was odd, that meant they were odd, indeed.

  “We are walking to the center of the earth,” Maelgwyn said. “We are entering Crom’s lair.”

  “You’re certain that’s where we’re headed?” Da asked. Maelgwyn’s head swiveled on his neck like and owl’s, his eyes that were so like mine reflecting the green light toward Da. Gods below, I hoped my eyes never did that. Perhaps I’d invest in a pair of dark glasses, just in case.

  “Yes,” Maelgwyn said. “I am certain.”

  I pulled one of the charm off my bracelet and cracked it open, and felt the protection spell settle around us. It wasn’t the most powerful way to keep us safe from whatever we may encounter, but it was all I had to work with.

  “Don’t waste your magic,” Da growled. “It’s not wise to waste what we cannot replenish.”

  “Is any of this wise?” I countered. “What if this Crom doesn’t care to be disturbed?”

  “I imagine he doesn’t,” Da began. “A being who chooses to reside in such a place as this dank hole doesn’t do it in order to receive a great and many visitors.”

  “I must look for my children,” Maelgwyn said. “We press on.”

  I peeked at Da. He didn’t look pleased about pressing onward, but nor did he argue.

  “Maelgwyn,” I began. “How did you lose your children?” He stopped moving and turned toward me, his face twisted in fury, and I glimpsed the terrifying visage of the Unseelie King of legend. “I only wish to understand what happened, so we have a better chance at finding them,” I added.

  Maelgwyn’s scowl faded and his shoulders relaxed, followed by my own. Good. I hadn’t wanted to feel the full brunt of the Unseelie wrath whilst trapped in an underground crypt, or anywhere else for that matter. �
�After he beat me near to death,” Maelgwyn began, pausing to glare at Da, “I retreated to my family’s home to commence healing, since that is where my power is strongest. While there I fell into a stupor, what some might call a healing trance but truth be told, I was little more than a breathing corpse. After I emerged, I learned that my children had been taken by Fionnlagh.”

  “Taken,” I repeated. “But you don’t know if they were... If they’re still alive?”

  “If they are alive why haven’t I found them yet?” Maelgwyn demanded, desperation plain on his face.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Hopefully, here, we can learn something about their fates.”

  Maelgwyn nodded, his mouth a slash across his face. Before he could speak, Da beckoned us forward.

  “He’s through there,” Da said. He pointed toward a dark shaft that was little more than a hole in the ground. Not even the green glow of the crypt cut through the heavy darkness. With no other options, we entered the shaft.

  “Are you certain?” I asked as I felt my way through the near total blackness.

  “They say he rests at the bottom of a shaft, black as the darkest night, deep in the earth,” Da replied.

  “Who says?”

  “The whispers,” he replied. “In the ground.”

  “Did you learn many things whilst in the ground?” I asked.

  “Yes and no,” Da replied. “I heard many rumors and odd bits of gossip, though it was some time before I thought to pay attention to any of it. I often wonder what useful information I simply ignored.”

  “I’m surprised you heard anything at all.”

  “So was I. In the beginning I could only discern the wails of the departed, or the cries from the occasional mortal who’d plunged beneath. Once my ears learned how to tune out the noise, and tune in to what I wished to hear, I heard the old ones speak.”

  “Crom was one of these old ones?”