Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

  That was the problem with magic. If used within the rules and constructs of society, there was nothing wrong with a spell here or there. It was when people, elves in this case, chose to use magic without limitation that conflict arose.

  “Why did you feel the need to hide your sword from me?” Her tone came out far more challenging than she’d meant.

  Therron’s look of surprise took her aback.

  “This isn’t my sword. You handed it to me before we left your cottage.”

  They shared a look, then both studied the long blade.

  “Or did you?”

  “I gave ye the sword,” Tug said matter-of-factly. “I thought perhaps one of us should be armed with more than a dagger and since Rori doesn’t like swords, I gave it to ye. It only seemed logical.”

  She chose to ignore the fact her best friend had shared a secret she’d told him after too many pints one evening last Samhain. “I don’t remember seeing you give it to him.”

  “And I don’t recall you handing it to me.”

  Tug shrugged his great shaggy shoulders. “I guess maybe the two of ye should’ve had some of that vile liquid then instead ’o just snogging. Mayhaps the enchantress is still clouding yer judgement.”

  Rori leaned close to Therron. “Seriously, did you put some truth serum in that mixture? I’ve never known Tug to speak so bluntly.”

  “Thornbarrow is known to act differently with, shall we say, odd species.”

  “Tug not odd.” His bottom lip protruded with a pout.

  That slight glimpse of the old Tug gave Rori hope. She checked the trees lining the road, then glanced over her shoulder. “We should get moving.”

  Their pace increased, but they kept the conversation to a minimum, only speaking to indicate a turn, or to remark about a passerby. Rori used the time to work through her knotty logic of why fae were being imprisoned. Several plausible ideas, but none that made any sense came to mind. The fae were being kidnapped for ransom, but to her knowledge, no one had made a claim. Unless Eirlys was paying the ransoms and not telling her. Possible, but unlikely. The amulets containing fae were exotic keepsakes, but what kind of sick person would want to wear a live fae around their neck? Considering the fae were trapped in pendants, they might be used for bizarre rituals like fortune telling or securing bountiful crops, but again, who would be willing to sacrifice fae for such trivial things?

  By the time they reached Meg’s tiny cottage deep in the woods, she was no closer to a solution and had run out of ideas. Meg could provide an antidote to the illusions, Rori had no doubt, but as for the riddle of the imprisoned fae, she was certain the healer wouldn’t have a clue.

  Tug stopped them and tapped on the thick door with only a fingertip. The sound echoed beyond the cottage into the surrounding forest.

  “Paranoid much?”

  “Meg doesn’t like to be surprised.”

  Tug’s knowledge of the witch intrigued Rori. She couldn’t recall a time they’d ever spoken at length about the woman, something she would soon rectify.

  A square block opened and Meg’s scrunched face peered through. “Ahey, Tug. Who’s this you be bringing ’round my place?”

  Therron stepped forward, but Rori put a hand on his arm to stop him from speaking. At his glare, she shook her head and rolled her eyes toward Tug.

  “These my friends. Rori, you know, and this be Therron. He either wants to kill Rori or kiss her some more, I can’t decide.”

  Therron’s jaw tightened so hard Rori feared he might crack his back teeth. A flush of pink swept up his neck to settle upon his cheeks. For her part, Rori remained outwardly unaffected. Inside, a hive of bees took up residence in her gut. Whether Tug’s opinion shocked or delighted her, she wasn’t sure, and that made her nervous. That woman Taryn’s words came back to her—trust the elf, she’d said. Faeries and elves didn’t have much of a history to trust, but something about the ethereal, silver haired woman made Rori think this could be where they forged a new history. She and Therron, right there, in Meg’s cottage.

  Rori shuddered with the magnitude of her thought. She was a spy, and a damned good one. Not as skilled as Cian, not yet, but one day she’d be the best in all Faerie. She couldn’t afford personal relationships. To love someone was a risk, and Rori MacNair didn’t take unnecessary risks.

  “Oh, just think of the exquisite pleasure a risk such as this could provide.”

  Rori stared at the face behind the wooden door. Meg hadn’t spoken out loud, had she? It was definitely Meg’s voice she’d heard, but Therron and Tug acted as if they didn’t hear her. In fact, Tug was blathering on about thornbarrow and how it made his tummy feel funny.

  Meg nodded in the tiny opening, her eyes locked to Rori. “Think of it, Rori. Think of all the possibilities your pairing with this elf can bring. Think of the peace you’ll seal.”

  Rori’s gaze shifted to Therron. “Fae don’t mate with elves. Ever.”

  Tug stopped his rambling to gape at her.

  Therron turned slightly, a chuckle tucked into the corners of his lips. “If you’re suggesting I mate with the witch, I suggest we don’t need her help that much.”

  “No, I—bollocks.” Rori covered her embarrassment with a cough and kick of her booted foot. Why she thought only Meg would hear her comment, she had no idea. Instead of making more of an ass of herself, she said, “We need your help. Can we come in?”

  “All you needed was but to ask.” Meg’s face disappeared from the opening and a moment later, the door swung open.

  Like Rori’s cottage, Tug had to duck low to enter, but once inside, he stood to his full height. Unlike Rori’s cottage, the space around them was cavernous. Tall ceilings, rooms that rolled one into the other for days, and in the center of it all was a huge stone pit with a raging fire. Hanging from a pole was a kettle and set around the stones were four cups, one large enough for Tug.

  “Were ye expectin’ us?”

  “I like to be ready for company, whenever they may show up.” Meg patted Tug on his huge hand before she turned to Rori. “Tis good to see you again, young Rori, although it would be nice if you weren’t always bleeding when you came ’round.”

  Tug’s expression turned from happy contentment to consternation. “She broke through glass this mornin’.”

  Rori shot him a look to silence his tongue, but he was looking past her to Meg’s kitchen, where heavenly smells drifted toward them. A smile widened from one chubby cheek to the other. His chocolate brown eyes bulged with expectation. She wouldn’t have been shocked to see him drooling. It was a widely known fact Meg was possibly the best baker in all of Faerie.

  “Now, what is it you came to see me about?”

  “I’ve a feeling you already know,” Therron grumbled, half to himself.

  “We’ve encountered an enchantress. A powerful one, too. We’ve yet to fully counteract her spell and I was hoping you’d have something for us.” Rori started with the easy request first. She’d get around to the trapped fae later.

  Meg tapped a finger along her bottom lip and nodded. Streaks of grey wove in and out of the auburn braid she wore. A few snowdrops clung to wisps of hair as she danced away toward her kitchen. “I’ve just the thing for you. Stay there. I won’t be a moment. Pour yourselves some tea while you’re waiting.”

  Tug lifted the heavy kettle off the rod and poured the steaming liquid into their cups. Rori removed the leather bag and placed it between her feet as she sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs that seemed to be everywhere in Meg’s cottage. The sound of humming came from the rear of the room and a moment later, Meg emerged with a platter full of biscuits.

  “For the tea, love. These won’t help with the enchantments.” She answered Rori’s unspoken question.

  Stop doing that. Rori forced the thought at the witch, but Meg just smiled and set down the tray.

  “Now then, Tug is obviously fighting the effects of the enchantment, but what about the two of you?” Meg studied Rori a
nd Therron, her face unreadable. Her cheek twitched and she made a tsking sound. “This enchantress, what does she look like?”

  “Light hair, red robes. We didn’t get a look at her face.” Therron’s quick reply startled Rori. His reluctance to be in Meg’s cottage was almost palpable.

  “I see.” Meg sat, her gaze leveled at the elf. A moment later, her attention snapped to Rori. “What’s in that bag?”

  Instinctively, Rori closed her legs to hide the bag. “These don’t concern you. We only need to counteract the spells.” Why had she said that? She had every intention of asking Meg for help, but the words came out almost of their own volition. An uncomfortable slice of fear cushioned by rage slipped down her spine. “They’re glass amulets,” Rori forced between her teeth. If Acelyne’s enchantments still held her, she would fight them. “Spelled to hold fae prisoners.”

  Tug started to rise, but Meg put a hand on his and he sat. But the storm cloud brewing across his features gave them pause. Even Therron’s hand went to his sword, and again Meg laid her hand over his. She sat like that—one arm stretched left, the other right—between the two men for several minutes. Rori scarcely breathed.

  A low growl came from Therron’s throat and his fingers twitched above the hilt of his sword. Rori released the clasp of her daggers, ready. His dark eyes bore into hers. A sneer lifted his upper lip, baring his teeth. Tug whimpered and shuddered, his face a mix of agony and apology.

  Meg’s grey green eyes clouded and she swayed side to side. Her lips moved but no words came out. Rori cast a worried glance to Therron, but he either didn’t notice or ignored what Meg was doing. A battle raged across his features as well. Meg’s grip tightened on both of the men’s hands. Tug’s whimpers turned to outright howls and Rori removed her daggers from their sheaths. She plucked the bag from between her legs and slipped the strap over her head. She’d fight them all for the pendants if need be.

  Meg wailed and swayed, her lips sputtering incoherent words, her eyes milky orbs. In all the time Rori had known Meg, she’d never witnessed anything like this from the healer.

  A hiss came from Meg and her arms bolted outward. “You have no power here. Be gone, be gone, be gone!”

  Frigid air swooshed through the room, causing candles to flicker and the cook fire to sizzle and pop, then vanished. Therron’s hand moved from his sword to his mug, as if nothing had happened. Tug quieted, unfazed. He reached for another biscuit and sipped his tea as if he were at a café in the center of town.

  Adrenaline pulsed through Rori’s bloodstream, preparing her for battle. Meg’s face softened and her hands rested in her lap. A beatific smile spread across the healer’s face.

  “Light hair, did you say? Blonde like the sun’s rays, robes red like blood?”

  “Erm, yeah?” Rori’s hands shook as she put her daggers away. With deliberate calm, she reached for her teacup. If she was lucky, Meg had put something in the tea that would make her forget this morning. Make her forget the bizarre reality/illusion she’d stumbled into. Her tea sloshed onto the saucer and she bit her lip to keep from losing her shit completely.

  “Rori.” Therron placed a warm palm on her forearm. His free hand reached for his sword.

  “You won’t be needing that, elf. Rori is well. There is no danger here.” Meg’s eyes focused on Therron and she shook out her silver streaked hair. “I know of this enchantress. She’s vile of the worst sort. It won’t be easy to release her spell on this one.” Her head tilted toward Tug. “I’ll keep him here with me for the time being. You,” Meg kept her gaze on Therron, “must fight through her lies. Your life depends on it.”

  “I keep myself to myself. You’ve got nothing to worry about with me.”

  Meg and Rori exchanged a glance. Therron didn’t know he was still under the enchantment.

  “Of course you do, dear. But there are others you need concern yourself with, aren’t there?” Meg’s penetrating stare would’ve unnerved even Cian, but Therron remained motionless. After several long moments, a spark lit deep in his pale eyes and he blinked hard, his chest raising and lowering with labored breaths.

  Rori thought she heard the sound of parchment crinkling, or of leathery wings unfolding. She cocked her head to better hear, but Tug’s happy munching and Therron’s ragged breathing fought for dominance over an old clock ticking nearby.

  “Therron?” She gripped his hand where it rested on her forearm. Fresh torment covered his features. “What did you do to him, Meg?”

  “Do to him? Nothing. He needed a reminder, that’s all.”

  “For what?”

  Rori searched Therron’s face, looked into the bottomless wells of his eyes, where she felt a torment so strong it could destroy a kingdom. What caused the torment was hidden from her, but it was there, lurking. A strange pinching started in her heart. Like someone was using the organ as a pin cushion. Pain, not intolerable, but certainly unwelcome, vibrated from her chest.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Therron grumbled. His focus snapped in place and Rori was shut out from whatever it was she’d experienced. “Can you help us with the amulets or not? We’re wasting time here.”

  Meg’s sigh wasn’t of despair; quite the opposite. It was of relief. “As I said, I’ll keep Tug here until he’s well. The pair of you, however, need to gather both queens at a neutral spot. Neither will want to attend, but both must.”

  “Impossible.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find a way to convince Midna, won’t you, Therron? And Rori, Eirlys.”

  “You are mad.”

  “Oh yes, quite so. Now, drink your tea, Rori. It’s been far too long since you’ve visited. Tell me everything you’ve been up to since we last spoke.”

  “Shouldn’t we be on our way? You said we need to meet with both queens.”

  “There’s plenty of time for that. What you need right now is a nice cuppa to warm your insides.”

  The speed with which Meg jumped from topic to topic was dizzying. It was almost as if Meg were trying to confuse them on purpose. To muddy their thoughts so she could read them clearer, perhaps.

  Therron picked up his mug and indicated Rori do the same. If he stayed, she had to as well. She reached for her cup and sniffed the contents. If Meg was pushing tea on them this hard, the antidote must be in the liquid. She smelled bergamot and a hint of orange. Earl Grey. The more she inhaled, the better she felt. Her vision became sharper, her hearing crisper. It was as if cobwebs were being cleared from her mind.

  Half of Therron’s tea was gone before Rori took her first sip. Meg refilled the elf’s cup and sat back with a satisfied sigh.

  “May I have more biscuits, Meg?”

  “Certainly, Tug.” Meg patted his thick forearm with affection before she handed him the tray of cookies. Rori watched the interplay like the spy she was. Information was assimilated and filed into appropriate areas of her memory.

  “You’ll keep watch over Tug while we see the queens?” Rori didn’t want to leave her friend, but they could travel much faster without the lumbering giant.

  “It would be my pleasure.” Again, a soft smile lit Meg’s face.

  Rori studied the pair, wondering how long the two had been in love. And how the hell had she missed it? Tug wasn’t one to carry on or gossip, but he’d never given her the impression he was sweet on Meg. In fact, she tried to recall whether he’d ever discussed the healer in any capacity except professional. Her heart softened as she saw the intimate acts of unspoken affection. Meg caught her watching them and a girlish smile crept across her face. She even blushed! Rori nodded in a kind of permission-granting way, then turned from the healer, embarrassed.

  She finished a second cup of tea, her belly full from all the biscuits she’d eaten. Gods, but she was hungry today. Therron patted his own stomach, a satisfied smile on his lips. If he’d belched, she wouldn’t have been surprised. Thankfully, he didn’t.

  “That was some fine tea, Miss Meg. Thank you for the company.”

 
Manners? From the elf? Rori began to suspect another form of enchantment. But her thoughts were her own, and not muddled in the least. Although, her heart emitted a peculiar kind of warmth. She kept Therron in the corner of her vision as she thanked Meg for the refreshments. Had she given him a chance to be pleasant with her? Skimming over the events of that morning, she regrettably realized she hadn’t. No sooner than he was in her cottage, she and Tug had tied him to a chair.

  One does as one needs in dire situations.

  Still, she might offer him an apology at some point in the future.

  Meg clasped Rori’s hands and looked deep into her eyes. “Keep those fae safe, love. If Acelyne gets her hands on them, Faerie is lost. As it is, there’s a war brewing and those amulets are at the heart of the trouble. Do what it takes to get Eirlys and Midna to meet. They’ll fight you on the idea, there’s no doubt about that, but make them come together.” She tapped her bottom lip with a wrinkled finger. “The Vale of Dorn will do. I know the wizard who lives there. I’ll let him know to expect you in two days’ time.”

  “Two days? You think we can get to the Unseelie court in two days? Even with the queen’s fastest horses, we’ll be hard pressed to arrive by then, forget about the journey to the vale from there.” Rori’s mind spun with details they’d need to make such a trip.

  “You can do it.” Meg tapped Rori’s leather jacket just above the spot where the sleeping fae princess was concealed. “You know how to traverse time and space. If ever there was a reason to break the law, it’s now.”

  An audible gasp came from Therron, and Rori took a step backward. “I can’t. I’d lose my job. I’ll be exiled.”

  Meg’s stern gaze went from Rori to Therron. “The two of you must do this together. He’s your passage into the Unseelie court. Without him, Midna won’t care who you are or what you have to say. She’ll throw you into her dungeon and forget you exist.”

  Questions, thoughts, and images raced through Rori’s mind. Not all of them terrible. The queen’s pleasure dungeon. From what she’d heard, it was meant to be a special kind of torture. Spending all day making love to other prisoners while the court kept watch. It would certainly be a better option than Eirlys exiling her for breaking the oaths she’d sworn to her queen. Fae were strictly forbidden from entering the human realm without permission. Rori might be a spy, but there were some rules she couldn’t break.