Song of the Fairy Queen

by Valerie Douglas

  That didn’t matter now. He had to get back to them. Haerold’s people were looking for them and now thanks to Jacob they might know where to look.

  “What did you tell him, Jacob?”

  “The Knight’s Arms,” Jacob said.

  Here and then gone.

  Jacob looked around.

  The ghost was gone. Except he hadn’t been a ghost. He’d been real. It would have been kinder if Morgan had killed him but the Morgan he’d known wasn’t that kind of man.

  There was a coin on the table, though.

  Chapter Forty Five

  Taking Morgan’s advice, Kyri, Gordon and Gawain took seats down in the tavern in a corner where she could observe those who came and went. She’d gotten them rooms for the night as well and that had bought them a meal here, too. It was by far not the best of inns and she was reasonably certain a rabbit might have passed somewhere in the vicinity of the stew. How close though, she wasn’t certain.

  A cup of the red wine seemed safe enough, although it was almost sour enough to be vinegar and had certainly been watered more than a little.

  The room was better lit than many, with lanterns flickering. The walls had been white-washed once, although they’d settled closer to a dingy pale yellowish-gray. Smoke hovered near the ceiling from the poorly vented fireplace.

  If there was anybody to recognize here, of the three of them she would be the one to do it so she sat facing out into the room.

  As it was, though, it wasn’t she who spotted them first, but he who spotted her.

  In amazement his eyes were on her as he crossed the room. His plain familiar face was more than welcome. She smiled.

  “Lady Kyri?” Caleb said in a whisper, incredulously, horror overlaying his shocked pleasure at seeing her. “I almost didn’t recognize you…your hair….your pretty golden hair…”

  It was dark and short.

  She lifted a hand to it. “It’ll change back, Caleb.”

  “Welladay,” he said, astonished. “Lady Kyri.”

  He didn’t know what had happened between her and the Captain, but suddenly one day it was as if the Captain didn’t know her and then she was gone. Now she was back. And this was a dangerous place for her, Fairy or no, as she should remember. If they spotted her, if they caught her... His stomach churned at the thought.

  Kyri caught the warning in Caleb’s soft brown eyes, going alert.

  “We’ve got to get you out of here,” Caleb said, urgently, his voice low. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be anywhere near here.”

  She gestured at Gordon and Gawain. “I can’t leave them, Caleb. And I need to find out where to go next. We need help.”

  Caleb sighed. “All right. Go on up to your rooms. Blow out the candle and go out the window. I’ll meet you in the alley. Hurry, but don’t look it.”

  With all apparent calmness Kyri nodded and smiled, getting to her feet.

  “It was good to see you again,” she said clearly, for the benefit of those around them.

  Gawain and Gordon followed after her, neither walking fast.

  Gordon whispered, “You know him?”

  Opening the door, Kyri nodded. “Morgan’s old lieutenant.”

  The candle was blown out even as she heard loud voices downstairs. “How do you know he isn’t the man Morgan was after?”

  “Not Caleb,” she said with certainty. “Gordon, brace the door.”

  “Out you go, Gawain,” she said, unlatching the window and taking a quick look out. She saw no one, but the shadows were thick. There were, though, clearly people in the tavern below. “Gawain, don’t get yourself killed. Keep behind Gordon.”

  For only a second Gawain hesitated, then he swung his long legs out and dropped. Gordon followed a second later once Gawain had stepped clear.

  Kyri heard the footsteps pounding on the stair. She slipped out, dropping lightly to the alley with the others.

  “Come on, hurry,” Caleb said, from the mouth of the alley.

  “I’m afraid it’s a little too late for that,” said a voice from the darkness. “We thought you might try this.”

  Kyri had her sword out and her hand on her belt-knife when a torch burst into flame, lighting up the alley.

  There were a whole troop, regular soldiers, and they had Gawain and Gordon at sword point, Gordon looking furious. He didn’t dare make a move without putting Gawain in danger.

  “Surrender peacefully,” the leader said, “and no one gets hurt. Much.”

  Kyri couldn’t allow that.

  A glance at Gordon warned him she would make a move and then her belt knife flashed into the throat of the one who held his blade at Gawain’s throat.

  Gordon brought his own sword out, shoving the boy aside with a shoulder, the surprise of the attack taking his guard off-guard as he slashed down at the man’s wrist. The guard jumped back, catching the blow on the finger guard.

  The others launched themselves at Kyri, Caleb running down the alley to help.

  She put her back to the wall, a quick flick of her sword causing the leader of the group to jump back warily, as the second tried to come in at her side. She danced away, parrying his blade, catching the leader’s thrust, slapping that aside, too, quickly. Caleb caught the third as that one tried to come and outflank her.

  There were, however, the reinforcements inside the tavern. Kyri could see the knowledge of it in the leader’s eyes. A quick flip of her blade toward the second kept him off her, as the leader opened his mouth to call for help.

  “You need to worry about saving your breath for me,” she said grimly and hammered him back with relentless slashes of her sword.

  The man’s eyes narrowed dangerously, anger flaring.

  Who was this chit to give him a warning like that? He wouldn’t be beaten by a slip of a girl. He struck back, hard, his eyes widening as this small woman took it, easily, tilting her head curiously.

  He was good, better than Kyri expected. His second wasn’t, he was clumsy. She flicked her blade at him again, making him retreat.

  The leader drove forward again, his sword lashing, thrusting.

  It was only a matter of time, Kyri knew, before those inside missed their Captain. They had no time for this.

  She parried, feinted, trapped his sword, but he freed himself, quick thrusts of her blade kept the others at bay.

  These weren’t common soldiers and this was taking too long, they needed to get out of here before the others came.

  Morgan heard the commotion in the alley as he went by and saw the torch burning on the ground where someone had flung it.

  As always, Kyri fought as gracefully as a dancer, her sword held seemingly lightly, facing two against one. She was as good with a sword as she was with a bow. She spun to evade one, darted in to strike at another, catching a flurry of strokes from the first as she avoided the second.

  Even so, she and the others were hard pressed.

  Morgan was halfway down the alley before he thought, drawing his sword to go to her assistance.

  Gordon fought as competently as any old soldier, young Gawain guarding his flank.

  What was a surprise was to see Caleb there, faithful Caleb.

  Morgan almost wanted to laugh. Coincidence, or was it fate that Caleb was here now?

  The leader saw Morgan coming even as Kyri sensed Morgan’s presence. She glanced over her shoulder in astonishment…

  And then she smiled, radiantly.

  That sight alone healed something deep in his soul. She still had faith in him.

  “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Morgan said, setting himself.

  Not that size mattered, not where Kyri was concerned.

  Kyri flicked away the blade of the second as the leader spun to face Morgan.

  The man attacked, blade moving fast.

  Morgan was a little rusty but not that rusty. Not as rusty as he would have been those first few days after escaping the prison. He parried the attack easily. The man ha
d some skill, but not enough. Morgan slipped the other’s blade before his own was sheathed briefly in the other man’s chest.

  Then Morgan saw Kyri glance up at the window above them worriedly. He heard the dull thud of someone trying to break the door down.

  She slashed, taking her opponent’s throat.

  “Anyone hurt?” Morgan asked. “Gawain?”

  There was something different about this Morgan, Kyri sensed it.

  It was as if some of the ice that had held him had thawed at least a little, restoring some fraction of the old Morgan she’d known so well and still loved so deeply.

  “So,” she asked softly, “did you find your traitor?”

  “I did,” he said, looking at her evenly, “but that’s a story for another day. We need to leave, quickly. Caleb, do you know a safe way out of the city?”

  “That I do, Captain, if we move fast,” Caleb said, staring in shock at Morgan. “That I do. Is it really you, Morgan?”

  “It’s really me, Caleb,” Morgan said. “I’m back.”

  Caleb started to hope once again, too.

  In the darkest hours of the night they put the city behind them as alarums went off, torch-lights popping up here and there, guards racing to the gates too late to do any good.

  The relief was short-lived, however, as they heard baying in the distance.

  Kyri looked at Morgan. His mouth tightened.

  These horses weren’t Fairy horses, and while it was better than being on foot, Kyri thought, it wouldn’t be for long, not against those. And the horses of the Fair were too far away to do them much good.

  “Which way?” Morgan asked Caleb.

  “South for a time,” Caleb said, “to see who we pick up, if we can get rid of the hounds behind us. What happened to you, Morgan? We couldn’t find any sign of either you or Joanna. You went to the cottage and then disappeared. Like smoke. We looked everywhere and there was nothing. Most thought you were dead.”

  Perhaps it was the darkness; or perhaps it was because it was Caleb. Morgan didn’t know.

  Pain pierced him. They must have gotten rid of Joanna’s body. It had served Haerold very well to have him seen as missing, to have people wondering, looking, waiting.

  Ineffectual.

  He sighed. “It was Jacob, Caleb. He gave me up to Haerold.”

  The pain and grief were sharp, piercing.

  It echoed through her, mixed with Kyri’s own shock and horror.

  “Damn,” Caleb said bitterly. “We went to him and asked if he’d heard they’d taken you. He told us he didn’t know nothing. He was your friend, Morgan.”

  “They hooked him on Bliss. He told them where to find me.”

  It wasn’t all but it was enough, for now.

  There was more, Kyri knew and guessed at the more, but some wounds had to be lanced and allowed to drain for a time first before they could heal or be Healed.

  “Bastards,” Caleb said with feeling.

  Remembering the man he’d left behind, Morgan couldn’t disagree.

  The howling grew closer, the baying sharper, they had a hot trail.

  “Can we outrun them?” Gordon asked.

  “Not on these horses,” Morgan said, echoing Kyri’s thought. “But we can make them chase us, tire them out. And pray for rain.”

  As if on command, it did.

  “Some Fairy,” Kyri said, almost primly, “do have their uses.”

  She’d had the same thought. As much as she hated to tamper with the weather, the weather itself had helped her somewhat, being cool and damp.

  Morgan could almost feel her shoot him a look in the darkness and smiled. “It seems I owe you an apology.”

  “Accepted,” she said, as if begrudgingly, but they could all hear the laughter in her voice.

  That made him smile even more widely.

  “Now,” Morgan said, “we try to outfox them.”

  They used all the old tricks, riding along open rock, through streams, changing directions, pushing the horses as hard as they could, the rain soaking them, chilling them all to the bone.

  After a while, the baying dropped away, as the rain and the clouds too passed and then the sound faded altogether.

  “Safe enough to take a break, Captain?” Caleb’s voice asked wearily after a while.

  Gawain’s head was bobbing over his saddle and even Gordon was drooping.

  It was late, the thin crescent moon high in the sky. Even Morgan was tired.

  “Where?”

  Kyri extended her senses into the darkness. It would be dawn in another few hours, so they needed to be under cover.

  “There’s a stand of trees that should offer us some cover to the south a little more,” she said.

  Fairy she might be, but she was tired too, exhausted and heartsick.

  Pursuit had only been lost in only the last few hours, so they couldn’t risk a fire.

  Too tired to speak, they pulled the saddles off their horses, then their blankets and curled up on the hard ground to sleep.

  For some reason Morgan couldn’t though, staring restlessly up into the sky.

  Too much had happened. Sitting up against a tree, he watched the stars, thinking about Jacob and Joanna, Oryan and Gawain. And Kyri. About what had been lost. About the mysteries…

  They’d been so close to winning and now it seemed they’d very nearly lost…

  Kyri watched him from her blankets, sensing the pulse of his thoughts.

  She was a Healer, she couldn’t not Heal. He needed to speak it, to talk about it, to release it.

  However much it pained her.

  Slender fingers brushed the back of Morgan’s hand lightly. He knew that touch. A memory tried to surface, disappeared…

  “Will you tell me?” Kyri asked, her light, musical voice soft in the darkness.

  It was as if there was this bubble of pain inside him that Morgan hadn’t been able to release. In the darkness, he shared it with her.

  “He came to the cottage,” Morgan said, grief washing through him. “Jacob. That’s how I knew it was him. I wasn’t there. When I returned Joanna told me he’d been there moments before but he’d said he couldn’t stay. It didn’t make sense. Somehow I knew, then… I think I knew. He’d been acting strangely for a while. There had been changes… I just didn’t want to believe it. The Hunters burst through the doors. I tried to fight them. So did she. One struck her. She flew back and fell. I knew she was dead.”

  Kyri’s heart ached for him. “I’m so sorry, Morgan.”

  And she was.

  She closed her eyes, gathered herself.

  “Will you tell me about her?” she asked softly.

  Her eyes were on him, compassionate, caring and somehow it was easy, familiar to talk to her, as if they’d done it before. So Morgan did.

  Kyri pictured the sweet and loving woman she’d seen in her scrying bowl.

  By the time he was done, the first light of dawn had broken, turning the sky the color of aged pearls.

  Morgan felt empty, hollowed out.

  “Sleep for a while,” Kyri said gently. “I’ll take this watch.”

  “Are you sure? You must be tired too.”

  She laughed a little, her tone light, her face a pale blur in the waning darkness.

  “Yes, I’m sure. Remember, I’m Fairy. I’m stronger than I look.”

  With relief, exhausted, Morgan curled up in his blankets. He felt lighter, more at peace with himself.

  Kyri settled onto a nearby rock, wrapping her arms around her knees.

  She bent her head and wept silent crystal tears, for what had been, for sacrifices made, for grief and loss. Her tears pattered to the ground like rain.

  Chapter Forty Six

  The argument – such as it was – had started, much to Morgan’s amusement, the moment Gawain whistled a song, his eyes slanted mischievously toward Kyri. She’d immediately turned around and shot the boy a narrow-eyed look, although her pretty mouth twitched. Gawain grinned. She’d
given him another threatening look. It continued as they rode through the cool silence of the forest, the only sound around them Gawain’s whistling and the birdsong, although that had gone quiet now, too.

  Morgan saw Kyri take note of it as well, even as the quarrel continued.

  “No, absolutely not, you may not sing that song…” Kyri said, rolling her eyes and shooting a warning glare at Gawain, who grinned. “I said no.”

  Looking upward apparently innocently, Gordon whistled it, too.

  “Oh, fine,” Kyri said, to all appearances exasperated. “Now look what you’ve started.”

  Caleb smothered chuckles, recognizing the tune as one that had made its rounds a few years past. He could understand why Kyri might find it unsettling but she seemed to be taking it in good humor, despite her protestations.

  “What song is that?” Morgan said, shaking his head, puzzled. “I don’t know it.”

  “Oh, don’t encourage them, Morgan,” Kyri protested, putting her hands on her hips.

  Damn John of Orland, she swore silently. The only thing he hadn’t done was name names in the blessed thing.

  Morgan glanced at Kyri, his voice low. “Are they still there?”

  She nodded.

  Gordon and Gawain were oblivious to the watchers around them but Caleb had gone alert, although he played along as well.

  Laughing, Gawain explained, “It’s called the Ballad of the Fairy Queen. One of the girls in town used to sing it all the time.”

  “It’s got a pretty melody,” Gordon offered.

  Putting on a long-suffering look Kyri said, “I’m going to ignore all of you.”

  “What’s wrong with the song?” Morgan asked, more than happy to play along with the teasing while they waited for the watchers to make up their minds.

  “It’s silly, treacly and hackneyed,” Kyri responded. It was also embarrassing.

  Gordon said, “It’s a silly girl song about a Fairy who falls in love with a man but has to give him up.”

  Curious, Gawain asked, “Is it true Fairy mate for life?”

  That stung, although Kyri didn’t show it.

  She sighed. “Yes. He got that much right. Just as the song says.”