Rise of the Fey

by Alessa Ellefson

  “Remember what we agreed upon,” Arthur warns her. “No attacking our people.”

  With a sharp smile, Sameerah lowers herself to one knee and the snake unfurls itself from around her arm to slither towards me at an incredible speed.

  “She’ll be my eyes and ears,” Sameerah says. “Try not to piss her off.”

  With a grimace of disgust, I force myself not to stomp on the reptile.

  “Thank you for your help,” Arthur says curtly.

  Numbly, I let him drag me back towards the exit and the rest of the knights fall in behind us. Before we go through the door, however, Arthur stops again and I repress a shiver as the shadows at my feet shift, the only evidence I have that a poisonous snake is now trailing my every move.

  “I almost forgot,” Arthur says over his shoulder. “The Board’s on its way and it will want to have a talk with you.”

  As we leave the chamber, I hear the blind Watcher’s soft voice say, “We know, Gibborim, we know.”

  And then the door finally closes shut behind us.

  To top off this epically awful day, I find myself unable to sleep. So when the first rays of light filter through my window, I fling my covers off and force myself to get dressed for my morning run—an exercise I don’t relish, but one I find helpful in both reducing my stress levels, and curbing that freaky energy that always wants to spill out of me and lay waste to everything.

  As I leave the school building on my way to the southern fields, an familiar shadow glides down the path after me.

  “Stay away, you slimy thing,” I mutter.

  The snake flickers its forked tongue at me before slithering out of sight under a shrub. I stifle a grunt of exasperation, hating the fact that no matter what I do or where I go, unwelcome eyes are always on me.

  “Not now, Tristan, I’m expecting someone.”

  I freeze in my tracks at Lady Ysolt’s strained voice, and look about for its source.

  “Your husband, I suppose?” Father Tristan asks, sounding dour.

  “Don’t be silly,” she replies, and I now realize that the voices are coming from the teachers’ lounge, a few windows down.

  “Who are you waiting for if it isn’t Sir Boorish then?” Father Tristan asks petulantly.

  “The Board.”

  “How come I wasn’t notified of their visit?” Father Tristan asks angrily. But as his question’s met with a dead silence, he adds, “Who’s deigned to come over this time?”

  “Sir Pelles.”

  “The High Judge himself?” Father Tristan says, sounding excited now. “Perfect!”

  I slowly back away from the open window, willing the gravel not to crunch under my feet. The last thing I need right now is to get caught eavesdropping by those two while they’re in the middle of their squabble.

  “Don’t even start with that story again,” I hear Lady Ysolt say with a tired sigh that tells me they’ve had this argument before.

  “There’s something fishy about Myrdwinn, Ysolt,” Father Tristan insists, and I nearly stumble at the school director’s mention. “Don’t you see? He and Vivian are conniving together to bring this whole place down. I know for a fact that they’re in league with the Order of Errant Companions, who have been dying to get their hands on our money and facilities for ages. And with Carman on the rampage, they’ve found the perfect opportunity to do so! That’s why I’ve got to get Pelles to interrogate Myrdwinn for us.”

  “The Errant Companions don’t care a fib about our school,” Lady Ysolt retorts, exasperated. “They don’t believe in ever staying in one place. As for Myrdwinn, the old man spends most of his time drooling over himself and eating grass with Puck. He lost his mind ages ago, and it seems to me you’re doing a fine job going down the same path.”

  “I’m telling you it’s all a ploy!” Father Tristan explodes. “Mark my words, I will find out what he’s up to, whether you help me or not.”

  “The Board’s here,” Lady Ysolt says resignedly. “You better get ready for your homily, Tristan, instead of spouting this nonsense, or you might end up locked away too.”

  I dive behind a collection of leafy bushes as Lady Ysolt jumps through the lounge’s open window, then watch her stride away towards the landing docks where a large black and gold ship is slowly descending from the skies.

  She reaches the vessel’s mooring as two pairs of well-dressed men and women march across the lowered drawbridge, followed by a retinue of knights armed up to the hilt. I tense up as I recognize the grizzled man in the lead: Sir Pelles, the High Judge who presided over my trial. I keep my eyes fixed upon his silver head as a dark thought insinuates itself into my mind—what if he’s here to change his verdict about me?

  Something soft brushes against my clenched fists, and as the Board members slowly make their way down to the school, I find myself glad for the first time to have Sameerah’s snake at my side.

  The Prime bells suddenly ring out in the warm morning air, calling all to mass, and the door behind me bursts open. I jump in surprise as Percy and the cousins bound outside, followed by their sleepy-eyed squires.

  “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya!” Percy says, catching me still crouched in the middle of the flower bed.

  “Looks like we’ve got company,” Gauvain says, nodding towards the newly-anchored boat.

  Percy whistles. “More like the circus is in town.”

  “Or the Exhibition Team,” Gareth says knowingly as I make my way toward them.

  “I think you mean Inquisition, doofus,” Gauvain says.

  “Either way,” Percy says, “Artie ain’t gonna be too pleased by their early arrival.”

  “Perhaps I should go warn him,” I say.

  But Percy throws his arm around my shoulders, forcing me to stoop down. “Ya ain’t gonna do no such thing,” he says, marching me towards the church, “’cause ya can’t afford showin’ up late for the gospel will28. Not with your DNA.”

  He motions to Gauvain who sends his squire, a stout boy with large ears, to go find Arthur in my stead, then pulls the door open for me.

  “There, there,” Percy says, dousing my head with holy water from the church’s fount as I try to pull away, “that’s a good girl. Now here’s my tip o’ the day for ya: bow lots, keep quiet, look pretty, an’ ya should go through this visit unscathed.”

  And with a final pat, he leaves me at my bench to go sit in the KORT section with the cousins.

  The rest of the school slowly trickles in over the next five minutes, chatting wildly, a clear sign they all know about the latest arrival. A moment later, Keva slides in beside me, out of breath and covered in mud.

  “I blame you for this,” she says, seething.

  “What?” I exclaim. “I didn’t do anything. What happened?”

  “Hadrian had me give a message to Sir Valdis the moment I woke up,” she says, grimacing in distaste at the mention of the head mason. “Found him at Fort Megrez, of course, hauling rocks with the workers, and since he apparently can’t be bothered by a squire, I had to haul my ass across the construction site. And who do you think happened to follow me there? Your BFF Puck, anxious to find you. So anxious, in fact, that he tripped me.” She huffs, patting her skirt in annoyance. “If the Board notices my appearance, I’m gonna throttle you, Hadrian, and that hobgoblin of yours.”

  “I thought your love letter plan had worked out,” I say. “So why does Hadrian keep sending you all the way out there all the time?”

  “It backfired on me,” Keva says mournfully. “Now he’s making me work harder than before so he can have more alone time with Pelletier. It’s really disheartening.”

  The crowd suddenly grows quiet, and I know, without looking around, that the Board members have walked in.

  As the group’s heavy footsteps draw ominously close, I catch myself glancing at the newcomers. Sir Pelles is still in the lead, his head held high. Behind him comes a tall, spindly woman with a snub nose and jewels flashing across her flat chest, a rotund man next
to her whose head keeps bobbing about like that of a pigeon. Finally, flanked by Irene and a disgruntled Arthur, is a pale woman, her non-existent chin giving her a severe bucktoothed look.

  I let myself breathe again as the judge passes my bench without stopping and heads straight for the teachers’ area in the transept, when two shadows fall upon me.

  “Oh, my dear Sir Eric, will you look at that?” the tall, flat-chested woman says in a cringeworthy voice. “I believe we’ve found the half-breed.”

  The pigeon-like man darts his head left and right, as if pecking seeds out of thin air. “I told you it’d be easy to spot,” he says, watching me with globulous eyes.

  My hands snap into fists at the insult, my blood pumping faster in my veins, when something sharp and heavy stabs my toes, and I repress a yell as Keva digs her heel into my foot.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Parcenet,” Keva says, standing up only to bow low to them.

  I see the woman sneer at her unkempt appearance, but as Keva’s heel threatens to crush my metatarsals, I follow her example.

  “Your Honors,” I mutter through gritted teeth.

  Obviously disappointed at my lack of reaction, Lady Parcenet sniffs then turns away, the oghams around her collar throwing pinpoints of light around her like a disco ball.

  With a warning glance in my direction, Arthur squeezes himself onto the KORT pew just as Father Tristan bows before the altar.

  “I wish they’d just take the Sangraal and leave,” Keva says, upset at having missed her opportunity to shine before the Board members.

  “Why do they even want to take it away?” I ask Keva. “If Arthur doesn’t like the idea, it means it must be dangerous. So why risk moving it?”

  “Frankly, I don’t agree with your Arthur here,” Keva whispers back. “First off, we’ve already been attacked, then there’s the fact that there’s a spy in our midst, and Camaaloth’s got tons more fully-trained knights than we do. On top of that, it’s also got amazing vaults filled with all the weapons we’ve collected through the centuries. No Fey’s ever managed to get its hands on any of them, not when they’re locked inside a massive iron box with walls several feet thick.”

  “Are you sure they didn’t lose Excalibur in their stack, if they’ve got so many weapons already?” I ask grumpily, still bristling at the accusations of theft thrown at my father regarding the sword.

  “Believe you me, if they did, everyone would know about it, and it wouldn’t be locked away. Not when it can bring us victory against the Fey.” Keva pauses. “Well, as long as they have someone who can wield it,” she adds thoughtfully. “Some weapons are so powerful, that they become too dangerous for us to use, and the last person we know of who could use Excalibur was your father.”

  “You mean not just anyone can use the sword?” I ask. That’s the first time I’ve heard of such a thing.

  Keva shakes her head. “Obviously we won’t know until we get it back, but chances are it’ll end up in the vaults like the other ones.”

  “The other ones?” I ask as the choir hits the first notes of the Gloria. “There are other Excaliburs?”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Keva says. “There’s only one Excalibur, the one your father took away. But it’s not the only highly powerful weapon out there. From what I’ve heard, we’ve got quite a collection of them down in our vaults, like the Sword of Air, and Ascalon—”

  “They’ve got Saint George’s spear?” I exclaim, and I see Lady Parcenet’s head swivel around on her spindly neck toward me.

  Keva elbows me in the ribs and we both drop our heads, pretending to be avidly listening to Father Tristan’s sermon.

  “Let us remember the fate the Lord reserved for the King of Tyre, the devil himself,” Sir Tristan says, and I clench my teeth together in apprehension—it’s never a good sign when the name of Satan’s mentioned in my presence.

  “Lucifer, as everyone may recall, was made full of wisdom and beauty, and was treasured above all other angels as a guardian cherub in Eden,” Sir Tristan says, and I’m surprised to find that his fervent stare’s for once alighted upon the teachers’ section, where the Board delegation is seated. “Yet he allowed himself to sin, for his ‘heart became proud on account of his beauty and he corrupted his wisdom because of his splendor.’ And so the Lord cast him out of Paradise and into Hell, where he is to meet with a horrible end.

  “I only bring this up to you today,” Father Tristan continues, “to remind you that no one is sheltered from corruption, no matter how much you may claim to be doing God’s work. Even those at the height of their power can be brought down”—he leans dangerously over his pulpit—“for no one is above God’s just retribution when it comes to striking down those who let their pride guide them.”

  A long pause follows and I silently thank Father Tristan for giving me a break. But if he hoped this would endear the Board to his cause, then he’s certainly lost his marbles: Lady Parcenet’s face has turned a couple of shades pinker, the chinless woman’s drawn her lips over her protruding teeth, and even Sir Eric’s stopped his neurotic dipping-birdie movements. Only Sir Pelles, the High Judge, seems perfectly untroubled by the priest’s words.

  When mass finally ends, everyone rushes to exit first in order to avoid the oppressing sense of hostility oozing inside the church’s walls.

  Keva and I, unfortunately, have to wait for the Board and KORT members to clear before we can leave ourselves. As we finally fall into step behind them, I see Jennifer hasten to join Arthur and the Board delegation. At her sight, Lady Parcenet’s face clears and she shakes Jennifer’s hand heartfully.

  “They seem awfully chummy,” I tell Keva, making sure to stay well out of earshot of the group.

  “She’s the Board President’s only daughter,” Keva says, “of course they’re going to want to be friendly with her.”

  “I didn’t know the post was hereditary,” I say.

  “Technically it’s not,” Bri says somberly, she and Jack joining us on our slow way out. “Makes people dream of achieving greater heights. Unfortunately, that’s not how things work in politics.”

  “There are always exceptions,” Jack says, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

  Bri rounds on him. “It takes money to make money, so unless you’re an exceptional knight, you’re fooling yourself if you think you’re going to get a seat on the Board, let alone become its President. We all know the last person to succeed despite his poor background was Sir Egbert, and that’s because he put an end to the little Ice Age caused by the Fey in their last Great Rebellion.”

  She says this with so much bitterness that it takes us all three by surprise.

  “Hey, cool it,” Keva says at last. “None of this is Jack’s fault.”

  “Stuff it, Keva,” Bri retorts. “Considering you’re part of the problem, I don’t see how your point of view is relevant here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, this commoner has to get ready for her grunt work.”

  She storms off and, after giving us an apologetic smile, Jack runs after her. Keva shakes her head, tossing her braid back over her shoulder.

  “It’s because of her dad,” I say in Bri’s defense, remembering a piece of conversation I caught between Sir Neil and his wife once. “He’s so focused on his goal of becoming a Board member he’s lost track of a number of other things, like—”

  “You think they’re officially together?” Keva asks me, and I frown at the sudden change of topic. “She’s been cutting class a lot lately, and while his schedule’s all over the place, I somehow always find them together….”

  I roll my eyes, finally catching on. “I doubt the thought’s even crossed their minds,” I say.

  “Don’t underestimate the tremendous power of teenage hormones,” Keva says. “There’s definitely something going on between them.”

  “If it were up to you, there’d be couples everywhere,” I retort.

  “Who’s going out with whom?” Gauvain asks, pouncing on us the
moment we step outside.

  With a sigh, I point at Keva for her to give an explanation. When the cousins bite down on something, they certainly don’t let go. They’re almost as bad as—

  “You?” Percy asks Keva, appearing from behind the cousins’ bulk with a mischievous smile. “Thought Hadrian was workin’ ya too hard for any spoonin’29.”

  “Not me,” Keva says, batting her eyelashes at Percy as if waiting for him to offer his services.

  “Morgan?” Percy asks, oblivious to Keva’s eye-twitching. “Who’d ya happen to be sweet on?”

  “Shh,” Gareth says, nudging us. “Arthur’s coming over.”

  “And with a sour look that would pucker a hog’s butt,” Percy says, clapping my back before winking at me. “So better keep your love life under wraps, eh? Just till things smooth down some.”

  And indeed, Arthur’s features appear frozen in an air of severe disapproval as he marches towards us, Lance and Hadrian at his heels. Before they even reach us, Arthur points at me.

  “You’re to get yourself to Etiquette Class starting today,” he says.

  “What did I do now?” I ask.

  “Let’s just say the Board wasn’t too impressed with your attitude,” Arthur says.

  “Call me surprised,” Keva says in an undertone with her usual sarcastic charm.

  “Same with you, Kulkarni,” Hadrian says, matching Arthur’s reproving tone. “I can’t be seen at Camaaloth with a squire who doesn’t know how to hold herself properly.”

  He gives Keva a very pointed lookover and I can practically hear her internal cry of outrage. I smirk. At least I won’t have to suffer alone.

  “We need to be without reproach if we are to accomplish what we’ve set out to do,” Arthur says. “And that includes proper manners.”

  “You can’t blame me for being impolite if people insult me first,” I say. “Besides, I don’t care about anything except my father’s file.”

  “There are more pressing things than your father’s records,” Arthur points out, annoyed.