Song of the Fairy Queen

by Valerie Douglas

Morgan tightened his fingers around hers, before he lifted them to his mouth and kissed them.

  A breath sighed out of her.

  Smiling, Kyri looked back at Morgan and nodded. “I’m staying. Galan can if he chooses. I will ask among my people for more volunteers. All those who’d like to return and render aid to your cause.”

  Although he’d known, had been certain despite all of his fear for her, Morgan was relieved. He needed her at his side. And they would need every advantage they had and could find.

  Her eyes went to Galan.

  Kyri wouldn’t compel him…

  “Someone has to train that one while you’re gone,” Galan said equably and with a grin, lifting his chin at Gawain, who rolled his eyes. “So, I’ll stay.”

  Turning to Morgan, Kyri said, “And you will use them. Us. And me.”

  The last emphatically.

  Closing his eyes for a moment he nodded, accepting what he could not and would not change.

  Although the phrasing was interesting.

  Oryan said, “You do realize they know you’re here, Kyri.”

  “They know a Fairy is back. They may even know it’s me. That Arthur only referred to me as Fairy. Besides, Haerold unmade me Queen, according to his lights, if you remember?”

  He was unlikely to forget it.

  Galan snorted. “As if he’d any more choice in it than you do, my Kyri.”

  With a wave, Kyri smiled. “True.”

  Oryan said, “All right, so where do we start? Haerold isn’t going to wait while we get organized this time.”

  “No,” Morgan said. “He’ll hit hard and he’ll hit as fast as he can, so we don’t have much time. First, Oryan, you’ll have to move and quickly. It’s unlikely Haerold hasn’t been looking at a map, charting our progress. So he’ll have a pretty good idea where you are now. You won’t be able to outrun him forever, but we need time.”

  Geoffrey gave a nod and ran out of the tent calling orders.

  With a nod, Oryan gestured Morgan to continue.

  “Next, I need to gather up as many of my people as possible and contact all the rebel groups.”

  “Many of your people found their way here, Morgan, after you disappeared,” Oryan said. “We would never have survived that little altercation with Haerold’s patrol without them.”

  “There’s folk we can contact out in the country,” Caleb said, “but they’ll need to see you, Captain, to know it’s true that you’re back for sure and it’s not just some story.”

  “That was my intention anyway,” Morgan said.

  Kyri added, “I can contact Detrick, we know where he is and a few of the others. With their contacts in the cities and towns, they can warn the people there. Haerold is sure to take steps to crack down on the rebels and the villagers, to try to prevent them from rejoining the rebellion.”

  Morgan’s hand tightened on hers at the thought of being apart but then he nodded.

  “I’ve sent the call out,” Kyri said – it had taken only a thought – “so my people will be arriving within a day or so. Galan can speak to them if I’m not here. Once I know who and where, I can assign volunteers.”

  “John?” Oryan asked.

  Orland raised his chin. “What levies will still answer my call are yours, my liege, of course.”

  His eyes still burning at what had been done to his late father, Jordan of Dorset added tightly, “And mine.”

  John said, “We’ll ride out tonight, if you can give us an escort. It will take time to get that many people moving.”

  “I’ll contact my other vassals,” Oryan said, “to see if anyone has changed their mind in the intervening years.”

  Looking around the table, Oryan asked, “Is there anything we missed?”

  Morgan ran it over in his mind. “Not that I can think of. Kyri?”

  She shook her head, too.

  “All right, then. Morgan, how much time do you think we have?”

  Morgan looked at him steadily and then eyed the others. His gaze paused for a moment on Kyri. As always her gaze was level, calm.

  She knew.

  “Not much,” Morgan said shortly. “This is the closest Haerold’s gotten to you in almost six years. He knows that Gawain, your heir, is with you now. He’s going to throw everything he can at us. We have a month or more, maybe, a little longer if we can somehow buy time before we had the luxury of trying to build our forces. We have to find a way to defeat him with what we have.”

  Oryan nodded. “That was my thinking, too.”

  He looked at Gawain. It wasn’t much time with his son. Or for him.

  The boy was pale, so it was clear he understood the gist.

  “I guess I’d best learn fast, then, sir,” Gawain responded gallantly..

  “Good lad. We’ll move out at first light, then,” Oryan said.

  Morgan nodded. “Caleb and I will head out then, too.”

  Once more his hand tightened over Kyri’s.

  The thought of leaving her, of knowing she was out there alone and vulnerable, sent cold chills through him.

  She squeezed back, knowing the same fear for him. Nothing they could say to each other would truly reassure the other.

  “I’ll stay high.” It was the best she could offer him.

  Morgan smiled and tugged down the brim of his hat. “And I’ll stay low.”

  “All right, then,” Oryan said, “we’re going to be busy over the next few weeks. Best get some rest while we can.”

  He took a moment, though, for a long, hard handshake with both Morgan and Kyri and nods to the others, before escorting them personally to the entrance to the tent.

  Flipping open the tent flap, for a moment Morgan paused, humbled and gratified, looking out at what awaited him.

  Dozens of familiar faces, men and women who’d served under and with him, some for years, one or two from before his time as High Marshal. He looked from one face to another, slowly nodding. Caleb beamed at his side. Kyri’s hand was tight on his, smiling with wonder.

  As one, the Marshals came to their feet and saluted smartly.

  Oryan clapped him on the back. “I told you they were here.”

  Tall, graying, sharp-faced Deandra stepped forward. “Marshals reporting for duty, sir.”

  Her salute was impeccable.

  Releasing his hand, Kyri stepped back.

  Morgan’s jaw worked and he swallowed hard against a tide of emotion before returning Deandra’s salute.

  Striding forward, Morgan offered his hand. “Good to see you, Dee.”

  Her eyes curiously bright, Deandra took his offered hand. “Good to see you, too, sir, Captain.”

  One by one he went around, shaking hands or nodding acknowledgement, trying to meet every eye before stepping back. There were faces here that he knew and faces he missed.

  “Orders, sir?” Deandra asked, going to attention.

  “Stand down,’ Morgan said, with a wave. “Relax, Marshals.”

  He looked at them all, still amazed by their presence here.

  “All right, orders,” he said, “And wait until I’m finished before you speak.”

  Again, he looked at each individual face.

  “We have a month, maybe less. It may be up to us to buy that month, but buy it we will. First, I’ll need a token force to defend this location. Archers mainly. Token only, make it look good, do as much damage if you can, but no casualties if you can avoid it, we need every man and woman we have. Make Haerold’s forces think the King is still here, at least long enough to give him more time to get away and then cover his trail. Hold them as long as you can.”

  “Deandra is my second, you answer to her when I’m not here.”

  Spotting a familiar face, Morgan said, “Tucker, that first is your detail.”

  “Yes, sir,” the tall, blond-haired young man said.

  “Second, a detail to protect the King and Prince Gawain at any and all costs. Forrest, that’s yours.”

  Not a single person fli
nched.

  “I’ll need an escort for Lords John and Jordan, three each. Lastly, I need the rest of you to fan out across the Kingdom and find any of the other Marshals who might have survived. Any who want to serve, I don’t care the age, we need experienced fighters.”

  “Dee, are you comfortable with the assignments?”

  She nodded.

  Morgan hadn’t forgotten his staff or his stuff in the time he’d been gone. If nothing else, it had honed him even sharper.

  “How do we communicate, sir?” someone asked.

  “For the moment,” Kyri said, “Call me as you used to. For those who don’t know how, get a good clear picture of me in your minds now and then think hard about what you want to tell me and Call my name. If you need me, I or one of my people will be there as quickly as we can. In a few days, there will be others.”

  “So,” another called, “the Fairy are back?”

  Kyri looked out at them, meeting every eye. “The Fair are back and this time we’re not leaving until this is over.”

  They leaped to their feet again, applauding.

  She smiled, her eyes misting.

  “All right,” Morgan said, “decide amongst yourselves who stays and who goes where. Let me know this morning, before first light.”

  He looked out over them all.

  “It’s good to see all of you, I wish the circumstances were different. In a month, it will be,” Morgan said. “Dismissed.”

  Chapter Fifty Six

  Dawn came much too early, Morgan thought, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at a still sleeping Kyri, her sea-colored eyes closed, her lashes golden against her cheeks. Her head lay soft against his forearm. Gently he lifted a strand of her curly hair, let it twine around his finger. She was so lovely lying there, her soft lips parted. Drawing back the blanket for a moment he looked at her lithe body.

  Curled slightly on her side, she had one leg wrapped around one of his. It was something they seemed compelled to do, he and she, wrapping around each other to hold each other close. Slowly he stroked a hand down her arm.

  Morgan raised his eyes to her face to find her looking back at him with those beautiful eyes. Her fingers drifted lightly across his cheek as her eyes met his. He couldn’t get enough of looking at her sometimes, she was so beautiful to him.

  Her hand reached to glide over him. He cherished her touch.

  Kyri loved his broad strong chest, the solidness of his body against hers.

  Smiling, she drank him in as well, her fingers running lightly over his mouth.

  Leaning over her, Morgan brushed his lips over hers, teasing hers open and then sank into the kiss, pulling her in close. With a soft sigh, he took her as her slender arms wrapped around him and she pressed her face against his throat. Holding, clinging, he claimed her again, his hand cradling her head, his cheek pressed against her hair.

  After a moment they both leaned back for a moment to look at each other.

  “It’s time,” he said.

  Morgan reached for her hands. Lifted first one then the other, he rubbed his thumbs over the scars there from where she’d gripped the bars of his cell.

  He kissed each one as her eyes softened and her heart caught.

  “You set me free.” In more ways than one and then she’d brought him back to the living.

  “I love you, Kyri,” he said, “don’t forget that.”

  “Never. I love you, too, Morgan,” she said. “Stay safe.”

  Dressed, they stepped out into the pre-dawn darkness.

  “When you see Detrick, have him pass the word that Prince Gawain has returned from exile. That will give people heart. Tell him to bring his people but keep them out of sight if he can for as long as he can. The less Haerold knows about our numbers, the better.”

  She nodded. “Once my people arrive, I can send someone to Detrick to scout and pass information.”

  A dozen people swarmed behind them to tear down their tent as they walked toward the King’s pavilion.

  The Marshals waited, some forming up around Oryan and Gawain and the party taking down the tent, while others waited until they saw Morgan before saluting and fading back into the woods. The last group were mounted and waiting for them.

  Deandra gave them a nod, Caleb waiting with his own and Morgan’s horses. Morgan gave them both a quick salute as he went past to greet the King.

  With Gawain following, Oryan walked to meet them, his hand outstretched. “You’re off then?”

  Morgan nodded, taking the offered hand firmly. “Yes. Stay safe, Your Highness.”

  “I will,” Oryan said.

  Morgan looked at Gawain. “You do the same.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gawain said, “Thank you, sir. And thank you, Lady Kyri.”

  There had been little time to truly get to know the boy, but what Morgan had seen gave him heart, as did his words.

  “Take care of yourselves,” Kyri said, “both of you. And Gawain, it’s still just Kyri.”

  Gawain lifted his chin, grinned a little and nodded.

  She glanced at Galan, behind them.

  He smiled, heart to heart.

  “And you, as well,” Oryan said.

  Morgan kissed her quickly in farewell, they’d said their goodbyes in the tent in private. They would see each other soon.

  Kyri’s wings unfolded.

  Morgan smiled, looking at them and her. She was so beautiful, such a wonder. He loved watching her fly.

  Lifting up on her toes, she kissed him lightly, then turned and ran, her wings stroking. Her feet left the ground, wings beating. She circled around, once, twice, gaining lift and height. Rising up above the trees, the first light of dawn touched her wings and turned them to gold.

  One last glance down at them all and then she was gone.

  Missing her already, Morgan strode to his horse.

  He saluted the King and led his people out.

  Kyri, high in the sky, scanned the ground below as she passed over the edge of the forest to see the first line of Haerold’s forces approaching. He hadn’t done this by half measures. And had moved far more quickly than they’d expected.

  Instantly she turned, diving to intercept Morgan and his people first, dodging and darting between the trees.

  “Morgan,” she cried.

  Surprised and alarmed, Morgan looked up as Kyri hovered briefly, wings beating.

  “Haerold’s men are on their way, at least fifty, riding hard. If you continue this way you’ll ride right into them.”

  Nodding, he said. “Go warn the others.”

  “I’m going there next.”

  Oryan, too, was surprised to see her, too.

  “If we have to, we’ll abandon the tents,” he said, to her warning. “We’re going now, people! Dee, send someone to your people and warn them to expect visitors more quickly than expected. Go, Kyri! We’ll handle it here.”

  With a nod, she shot up, stroking hard, heading south along the treetops toward Detrick and his camp.

  Chapter Fifty Seven

  As Kyri drew closer to Remagne she saw clear signs Haerold was at work controlling the populace. Patrols of Hunters and men were spread through the countryside. From one village smoke rose. She shook her head, flying higher, harder and faster.

  Detrick wouldn’t have kept his camp too long in the same place but this was his territory so she knew she was close.

  She caught a glimpse of people moving between the trees and dropped to tree-top level, then below the canopy, swooping between the trunks until she saw Detrick.

  “Hello the camp,” she called. “Detrick, don’t shoot.”

  “Kyri?” he said, hearing her familiar musical voice, turning, looking up in surprise at seeing her again so soon. “Everyone stand down.”

  “The same,” she said, “coming down.”

  Startled eyes watched her descend.

  “What’s going on?” Detrick said, “Kyri, you shouldn’t be flying around. Do you know what they’d do to F
airy if they catch them?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Detrick,” Kyri said, “the time is now or never. Haerold is on the move. The boy we had with us, do you remember him?”

  Detrick nodded.

  “That was Oryan’s son, Prince Gawain. He’s with his father now.”

  Everyone around them was getting to their feet, some people calling to others, whispers going from one to another. Excitement built. Others darted between the trees, coming at a run.

  “If you’re in,” Kyri said, “then send messengers to the local villages. Warn them that Haerold is cracking down, troops and Hunters are already fanning out. Morgan asks if you can bring your people north, but go west to start and stay undercover. Haerold mustn’t see you if you can manage it.”

  “In? Of course we’re in,” Detrick said, as the camp exploded into seeming pandemonium, his people racing to pack gear and weapons. “We’ve been waiting years for this. How will we make contact?”

  Kyri smiled. “The old way. In a day or two one of my people will make contact with yours. They can act as scouts, too.”

  “Gaia?” he asked and something in his expression mirrored something she knew too well.

  Much to his dismay, Detrick had found he’d missed the merry little Fairy after she was gone. He’d been delighted she wanted to share his bed – such were Fairy – it had been a shock, though, to realize he’d fallen in love with her.

  “If she chooses. Who else can I contact?” Kyri asked.

  He grabbed her hand. “This is great, wonderful. Finally we can fight back. I’ll send messengers to the ones we pass. Go to Robert, he’s further east. A sharp little man…”

  The picture was in her head…

  “His camp is at the top of a rise if you follow this ridge for a time.”

  She nodded. “All right. You have to move quickly, Detrick. Morgan estimates we have a month, maybe more.”

  There was shock in Detrick’s eyes but he nodded. “We’ll get there. Somehow.”

  Kyri took off… her mind on Morgan.

  At the edge of the forest the Marshals fanned out, some whipping their horses into a run.

  They would have to circle around Haerold’s men to head south and east.