by Billi Jean
She walked among them, marveling at the detail on each figure. Far at the back, along a wall, as if forgotten in its small alcove, hung a tapestry, ancient and threadbare, its edges frayed but still vivid with color. The splendor of this city must have been like finding this beautiful cloth. Unexpected and dazzling. She stood, awed at the story outlined in the vibrant artistry of the fabric. The time it must have taken to weave such detail… Decades she was certain. She was so engrossed in the tale, she almost dismissed the soft sound behind her, until it repeated.
Startled, she spun, gasping as her gaze fell on an odd mirror along the far wall. She squinted at it, unsure if she was seeing clearly in the dim late afternoon light. Then she saw it again. Something shimmered then receded in the murky depths.
Footsteps, as if someone were walking, but far, far away, echoed around her. She stepped backwards carefully, realizing as she did, that the footsteps weren’t from the direction of the mirror, they were from inside the mirror.
A chill settled over her arms, going deeper and making her flesh feel heavy and unresponsive, as if her limbs were turning to stone.
“My dear sister, well it is you have come.”
Chapter Ten
The brown, tattered cloak Maeve had worn lying in the mud caught Stephano’s heart in a vise. He bent and tugged on the wet cloth until it came free of the thorn bushes.
The canyon was empty and silent. But, here on the edge of the cliffs, and the huge bramble patch, was where a fight had broken out between the men and the Dark Faye. By the looks of it, Ajax and the rest of them had been taken. There were deep depressions in the mud, as if someone had dragged something heavy—possibly men—through the dirt and onto the rocks. As startling as the idea that Ajax and the others were now prisoners was, he didn’t believe Maeve was among them. He fisted his hand on the cloth she’d worn a short time ago. Ajax can escape any trap ever set on him. Alrick is the same. They’ll see to Brennan and Darren. If they were taken…but Maeve. That vise around his heart gave a tighter squeeze.
Garret walked up on his left. “It’s hers?”
At Garret’s question, Stephano simply insisted, “She wasn’t taken.”
“What?” Garret stared at him then began to walk with his head down, scanning the forest floor. “How can you be certain? The rain blurs it all.”
“This wasn’t here. It was in the brambles, back over there.” He gestured to where the attack had begun. He started walking, too, his excitement building. “I had to pull it free. She wasn’t among them when they were attacked, or she might have been, but only at first. Ajax would have gotten her out of sight, or else her brother. Maybe they had time to warn her. I know she wasn’t dragged off.” He had a feeling if she had been discovered, there would be sign of it—blood, hair, her clothes ripped from her. Images tried to surface, but he forced them back down. No one will hurt her like that. It was a quick thought, but he felt it to his bones. “The others either weren’t so lucky, or they’ve moved on ahead of us.” He let Garret decide what he would.
“If the Faye have them, one of us needs to go find them and free them.”
“One of us, huh? Try a platoon,” he muttered.
Garret stared back the way they’d come. “The Faye were the unease we felt, the warning we thought was the slavers.”
Stephano thought the same. “They’re far worse than slavers. You know that. But if they do have our companions, they’d want them alive, not dead. Death is too quick for them, eh?”
Garret walked around the brambles. “If she wasn’t taken, where is she?” He shoved the brambles aside, as if he’d find her, but fell back with a few curses. The thorns were an inch long, one scratch left a poison behind that itched worse than being stung by thousands of hornets. He knew, he’d already felt their attack. “Ah, there, I see.” Garret examined the ground where Stephano had already spotted where she’d lain. Did she fall? Maybe someone threw her in there. “Why didn’t they see this?”
“The fight drove them away, then on. The battle ended over there.” He pointed to the bend in the ravine. “They would have come back here, but I think her horse took off and I’m guessing they followed the horse.”
“And?” Garret went to a crouch outside the brambles. “She’s in there? Should we shout for her?” he asked in a hushed tone. Stephano would have razzed the hell out of Ajax for such a move, but he knew the wolf was worried. “Don’t you think we should let her know it’s all right to come out?”
“She would have come out again if she were able. She’s not there.” He wondered why the Lykae didn’t know that. Their sense of smell was legendary. He had a sense she was near, but not…here. It wasn’t a scent that made him believe that—it was a relief that he could get a direction on her.
He started walking around the bramble bushes, giving them a wide berth. Finally, he reached their end, and there, at his feet was his answer. She fell down this. She’s alone, possibly hurt.
That vise was really screwing with his heart. He tightened his hand on his sword hilt. A drop-off had eroded the ground here with a suddenness she might not have known, until it was too late. If she’d had to crawl backwards, for instance. He scanned the sides of the cliff, feeling his heart pounding so hard each beat thudded painfully. What if she fell? Can she survive such a fall? An image of her delicate limbs twisted, blood pooling around her crushed skull made him feel nauseous.
“Fuck.” Garret eased to the cliff’s edge. “That’s not an easy fall, Narc.”
Stephano anchored his hand on a tree limb and leaned out, trying to see the bottom. The rocky cliff made it impossible. The red stones arched outward then, he guessed, dropped. He examined the rock, not seeing how she could have stopped her fall if she had scooted out of the bushes. They ended along the cliff edge. There were even a few clumps of the brambles clinging to the sides of the rock.
“If she fell—”
“She’s alive.” He pressed his lips together to stop saying more. Such hopes were for children. He knew better. If she was down there, he would find her. He scanned the edge of the bushes and finally saw a scrap of light blue. The evidence that she’d been right there, that she’d been near the edge, made his breath catch. His vision dimmed and grew hazy with anger. She’s alone. She’s hurt. She’s scared.
“If she’s alive, she’ll need one of us.” Garret sounded worried.
Stephano released the tree and stood on solid ground. Garret waited, fingers rubbing up and down his bowstring. The fear and rage riding Stephano eased. He would go. If only to find her body. Never leave a man—or woman—behind. It was a motto the Spartans had lived by long before others claimed the same.
“What’s the plan? You go after her? I go after the men?” Garret pressed. “We need to get moving, either way.”
Stephano rubbed his hands over his face. Over the past week his beard had grown out. The stubble irritated him. So did the choices he had to make. None of this would be happening if he’d used his head. No slavers would have triggered his alarms. At least not the ones they encountered.
If there was even the smallest chance that the gods had favored Maeve and she’d survived, he had to find her.
An image of her frightened, pale face, eyes wide and watchful rose before him making him ache. Her expression reminded him of that the first night, as she’d stood there, alone at that window. He’d not recognized the fear then, but now, looking back it was clear. What was she afraid of? Losing her brother to a new realm and being alone? She’s alone now, lost in the bottom of a ravine in a strange land. If she’s hurt…dying… He dropped his hands with a growl. Can’t think about that. Can’t.
“Narc?”
Stephano blinked, then focused on Garret’s solemn features. The wolf was stronger than he’d thought. Stephano made his decision. “I go down after Maeve. You find the men. Don’t go too far ahead and don’t get caught if they are being held. Leave sign for me.”
Garret exhaled heavily, his light brown hair fell in h
is eyes as he met Stephano stare for stare. They’d already used the chipped cross on the northern side of trees, but if there were no trees…
“Think of something I can spot,” Stephano told him. “But not too obvious, if there’s no more trees. I’ll need to find you. If she lives, she’ll want her brother alive and well.”
Garret snorted. “I’ll leave stones set up three high, biggest on bottom, smallest on top. If no trees, no stones, look for something in the shape of an arrow. That’d be me.”
The chances of them meeting again, in this realm, and surviving to reach their own, were growing smaller by the minute. They’d come in here to rescue a witch, and ended up having to rescue Garret, Aubrey and Jacob. Aubrey was safe in their realm. Jacob was lost. Garret had made it once, he might again. He gave the man a sharp smack on the shoulder and gripped him there the way warriors did.
“If you get your ass captured, you’ll owe me more than you already do if I have to bail you out again.”
The wolf gave him a half-smile. Stephano held out his hand, trusting that after his first capture by the Dark Faye, Garret wouldn’t fall so easily the second time.
“Don’t be stupid either,” he cautioned. “I don’t want you brother blaming me for the rest of eternity for getting you killed. A couple of days. Give me that long then watch for me.”
Garret shook his hand firmly but his eyes were haunted. “Make sure she’s not taken. If she survived the fall…”
“She’ll be safe with me.”
“Of course. Two days, eh? And we should meet up again. Here, you take this, she’ll need food, and there’s a med kit in there and some other things.” Garret shoved a satchel at him. After debating it, Stephano hooked it over his shoulder. It was heavy. What kinds of things does the kid keep with him?
“Mine’s on my horse.” He had hard tack, flint, his sharpening stone, and a few extra weapons. “Take it and the horse. We’ll meet up in a few days. The trail goes up through this pass. I’ll assume you’re going that way. If I don’t see your sign—”
“You’ll see it. Two days. I’ll have them freed by then if they got their asses caught by a bunch of fairies. But if not, I’ll at least know where they are and we’ll come for you.”
Stephano grinned at the description of the Dark Faye, who were anything but fairies. Two days. It was only a matter of getting down to her. And hopefully not doing it with too much bodily injury. Then getting her back to her brother so they could leave this realm behind. Surely she’s alive. She is too stubborn to die.
* * * *
Maeve didn’t move but the mirror’s surface did. It rippled as if smoke existed under it. The effect scared her, but she held her ground. A moment later she wished she’d run. A woman, dressed in white, with stunning blue eyes and long, auburn hair held back by a silver crown designed to resemble peacock’s wings, strode toward her. She stopped when she was full length in the mirror, eyes assessing Maeve coldly. Then with a brittle smile she beckoned Maeve closer.
“Sister, why do you hold back from me?” The tone of her voice was consoling, as if worried about Maeve. But Maeve sensed a threat, under her silky question.
She shook her head and touched her throat to indicate she couldn’t speak.
“Pssh, you can speak. You’ve let men guide you, change you from what you were born to be. They cannot change you. They cannot control you.” She leaned forward, exposing more of her evil gaze. It glittered in her heavily kohl-lined eyes. “You are powerful. Your voice is your power. The most influential tool you possess,” she paused and straightened with a smirk and ran her hands down her body. “Other than this, your seductive form. No man can deny you when you have control of both. Like me.”
Maeve backed up. This woman wasn’t like her. She wasn’t. She was evil. The more she spoke the surer Maeve became. Her brother had warned her of such Sirens. Told her to never listen to their words. Evil spilled from her honeyed words, more deadly because it was seduction, meant to sway Maeve toward the unforgiveable sin of using her gifts for harm.
“You can have it all. Everything you ever wanted. Speak. Use your power. You can do anything, if you wish. The world, it’s yours. Sing to it and it will obey. Do you want riches? Call them and watch the fools bring them to you. Do you want glory?” Maeve shook her head. “Fame? Lovers?” Maeve kept shaking her head, but the woman waved her hand as if her denial meant nothing. “Ah, so it’s not these things you wish.” Her eyes widened in dismay. “You have found a man you want for you own!” Laughing now, she made such a desire seem ridiculous.
Maeve twisted her hair, trembling. If I can make it to the door, outside I can be free of her. But she knew that it wasn’t going to be that easy. The woman’s beautiful face became colder the longer Maeve refused her. Now it was crystal clear that here was a deadly Siren from legends.
“Silly child,” she admonished. “A man? A man is useless.” She snapped her fingers. “They are cowards, worse, they will use you until they tire of you, then like that”—she snapped her fingers again—“they will try to dispose of you. Or worse.” Her eyes blazed brighter than stars. “They will trick you, and trap you. See this prison? See what I have been reduced to? This!”
The shout hurt Maeve’s ears, not with the volume of it, but the emotion behind it. Sorrow, frustration and rage such as Maeve had never heard. This was a Siren who had been wronged, no matter that she may have been evil, and still was, she felt deeply, and the deeper the emotion, the stronger her voice. Someone had trapped her in the mirror, but obviously she wasn’t without the power to reach beyond it.
“Ah, yes, but I made them pay. I made them all pay…” She twisted to the side, contemplating something Maeve couldn’t see, within the mirror or across the city, Maeve didn’t know, only that it gave her a second to move closer to the temple’s entrance. Her boots made more sound than she wanted along the dirty, stone floor, but she managed to take a few steps.
“But that was my folly, sister.” The Siren faced her catching Maeve once again with her voice. “Not using your voice, that is yours. Your voice is what a true Siren is. Without a voice, you are nothing.” She swept her hand up and out, displaying a different jeweled ring on each of her fingers. Maeve shook her head and tried to make it to the entrance. “You would deny this? Deny yourself? You are free, able to roam this world and gain from it all you ever dreamt and all you wish for is a man? A home and child, so he will grow weary of you and your brat and leave you?” Fury vibrated between them. As quick as it came, it disappeared. The Siren straightened her perfect gown and patted the side of her long, auburn hair. “Very well. Perhaps in time, you will see I am correct. Until then, contemplate your existence.”
A sudden chill swept over Maeve, beginning in her left arm, at her fingertips. She clenched her fist but found her fingers unresponsive. Frightened, she tried to turn and run, but couldn’t, not now. The Siren had begun to sing.
Chapter Eleven
After a dozen near-death experiences, Stephano guided his foot to a secure outcrop on the side of the cliff and exhaled so hard dusty bits of rock blew back in his eyes. He blinked and shook his head. His hands were sweaty and crisscrossed with slices from his descent. But his boots were firmly placed rather than dangling beneath him as he tried to copy Spiderman’s rock-climbing skill.
An abandoned city overgrown with vegetation but still achingly beautiful lay beneath him. It rose along the bottom of the ravine, hidden by the overhanging cliffs as it meandered along both sides of a wide river. A white road led up and out of it, another down and disappearing from view.
He quickly finished the climb, landing on the top of a wall with ease. To his left, he could see where Maeve might have fallen if she’d backed out of those brambles. It was higher than he was now, and closer to the cliff face. Plus, it was directly under where he saw a darker, freshly broken side of the cliff. She might have knocked the rocks loose on her way down. If she’d slid part way, then maybe she was fine. He eyed the distance fro
m the top to the bottom, not happy with the result. It was still a fall.
He made his way over to the spot, using the rooftops, careful of the heavy vines and slippery moss. Breathless, he landed where he thought she might have. There was no body, but there was a scattering of small rocks and better, a footprint. Hers, he knew instantly. His relief was so great he had to grip his knees and lean over, trying to catch his breath. She’s alive. She survived the fall. She’s here. The sky suddenly seemed bluer, the air fresher.
Now to find her. He still didn’t think shouting for her would be a good idea. First, even though the city looked deserted, it didn’t mean it actually was. Second, it might scare her more than reassure her. His sense of her was pointing him down, so he scanned the rooftop, trying to locate the best way to the broken street below.
Halfway across a fairly stable wooden bridge with vaulted arches and peeling paint, he heard a sound to his left. It wasn’t repeated, but after several minutes he thought he heard a female cry of dismay.
He was running through the shadowy streets to an ancient golden temple before he’d intentionally registered he was going to move. Once inside, row after row of elegant stone benches, some crowded with statues, stood in his way. He vaulted the benches, slid on the tiles on the far side, and went crashing into a wall. A muffled screech eased the painful landing and the tightness in his chest.
