Court of Dreams

by Crawford, C. N.

  I plummeted, swooping lower and lower, diving, exhilarated. Then, when I could see the stone rings of the Tower below me, I spread my wings out to either side, slowing my descent.

  I knew what I was up against. If the Shadow Fae were healthy enough to defend the fortress, I was about to face iron arrows. They’d pierce my flesh, knock me out of my flight, and sap my magic.

  I knew they’d hurt, but could iron arrows kill me? Iron didn’t hurt angels, but it did hurt the fae. And if my life was in danger, I’d have to fight back with my knives. Granted, throwing knives at the knights wouldn’t entirely help the legitimacy of my look, we’re all on the same side here argument.

  As I dove lower, I needed to position myself as close as possible to the entrance of the Cailleach Tower. I hoped to find Ruadan there on his throne, although who knew where he was. I wasn’t even entirely sure what time of night it was.

  Now, I was only a hundred feet above it. Something whooshed past my head. Another shot skimmed my thigh.

  Ah. So the Shadow Fae were healthy enough to shoot. In a way, that was good—

  Another arrow zipped past me, and adrenaline surged. I altered my flight path a bit, zig-zagging to make myself hard to hit.

  Under attack, the worst part of me longed to unleash the full force of my death magic. I wanted to let it burst from my chest like a plume of black smoke.

  I was hurtling for the ground, faster and faster, starting to wonder if I could nail the landing. I mean, flying came naturally to me, but landing? I had no idea. I’d never done this before. Still, I had to stay laser-focused right now on one thing, one person.

  Ruadan.

  And oh, gods, the earth is coming for me fast.

  BAM. The force of the fall rattled my bones. I landed hard in the tall grasses outside the Cailleach Tower, grunting as I rolled. The Tower’s bells tolled, signaling danger. The impact dazed me, and I scrambled to think of my next move.

  Hide, Liora. I hunched down, as if that would somehow make the giant black wings inconspicuous.

  Nothing to see here, folks. Just the angel of death invading your fortress, drunk as shit.

  Another arrow slammed down in the ground by my side, shouts ringing out. Then another, piercing my thigh. This was getting real. The pain ripped through me, sharp as a hot razor. It definitely felt like iron arrows could kill me, angel or not.

  I whirled, scanning the battlements. A flicker of movement on one of the Tower walls—a Shadow Fae readying another arrow. My mind whirred with the calculations, my vision suddenly focused. I could disable him before he shot me, not risk another arrow while I ran for the Tower doors.

  As he nocked his arrow, I unleashed my knife, and it sped through the air. The blade found its mark right in the Shadow Fae’s wrist.

  Before another Shadow Fae got the chance, I pivoted and sprinted into the Cailleach Tower. With the arrow in my leg, I stumbled on the stairs. The weight of my wings threw me off a bit, too. I didn’t know how to get rid of them, or if I had any control over that at all.

  Nausea was still rising in my gut—either from the whiskey or the iron, or the realization that I’d decided to take on an entire fortress of knights who wanted me dead. I had a terrible feeling I could end up puking in the throne room as soon as I saw Ruadan, and I wanted to avoid that as much as possible. I was here to state my case—that I was a rational person with helpful information, and not just a crazy drunk with an arrow in her leg and wings she couldn’t control.

  At last, I reached the top of the stairs, and I kicked through the oak doors.

  There, I found Ruadan, slumped on the throne, his eyes dark and lifeless. Shadows writhed around him. He wasn’t moving. In fact, I saw not a single sign of life apart from the movement of his magic.

  Panic thundered through my blood. Had the Plague taken the demigod already?

  I couldn’t breathe.

  Chapter 5

  “Ruadan?” My voiced echoed off the high stone ceiling. I took a nervous step closer.

  Even now, his otherworldly beauty stole my breath— the cheekbones sharp as blades, pale hair cascading over powerful shoulders. His stillness sent shivers dancing up my spine.

  My legs shook. “Ruadan—”

  Something slammed into my back, and pain blazed from the rear of my shoulder. An iron arrow in my back had knocked me forward, hard, onto my hands and knees.

  The whiskey bottle shattered, broken glass cutting my palms. Then, my wings retracted into my body. Already, I was growing weaker from the iron. Whatever happened next, I wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight.

  I reached for another one of my knives and looked behind me. Aengus was pointing an arrow at me. Blood poured from his wrist, a wound that had been ripped right open. So that’s who I’d hit with the knife.

  Was he the traitor? I had no idea.

  Gripping my knife, I glared at him. “What happened to Ruadan?” I rasped. “Did you do this to him?”

  Aengus cocked his head. “Do what to him?”

  “Why is he slumped over like that?”

  “He’s fine, since no one threw a knife at him and the Plague hasn’t touched him yet.” He let out a cough. “Can’t say the same for myself.”

  “Hmm. I would apologize for the knife, but you did shoot me with arrows.”

  “Oh, did I? How uncouth of me. I guess I was a bit peeved that you poisoned us with death magic and then staged a terrifying armed invasion of the fortress. Next time, I’ll use a sword.”

  “The way you phrase it really puts a negative spin on it, you know that?” The pain from the arrows in my back and thigh shot through my bones.

  Aengus towered over me, green eyes boring into me. I couldn’t find the slightest hint of warmth in his expression.

  “I came here to deliver a message.”

  An arched eyebrow. “Oh? From your master, Baleros?”

  Wanker. “Baleros is not my master. I did not spread the Plague.” I didn’t trust Aengus right now, and I wanted to speak to no one except Ruadan. If Aengus was the traitor, I didn’t want to pass on information to him. “What’s wrong with Ruadan?”

  Aengus raised the arrow again, ready to shoot. He didn’t look like he was going to answer my question.

  The gravity of the situation hit me like a fist to the throat. I could report to Aengus or to no one. I was dependent on him.

  “I have information,” I said. “But it’s for Ruadan.” I’d intentionally left the traitor bit out of my letter in case it had fallen into the wrong hands. I’d said only that Ruadan faced a threat, and I needed to explain it to him directly.

  Aengus narrowed his eyes. His sickly pallor suggested he really did have the Plague. “You’re drunk. I thought you’d invade, but I didn’t expect you to be drunk. Though, on second thought, I’m not sure why that would surprise me.”

  “I’m not that drunk. The buzz wore off quite a bit with the second arrow. Why is Ruadan unconscious? You’re sure he doesn’t have the Plague?”

  “Yes. He’s the only one unaffected.”

  My chest unclenched. “So tell me what’s wrong with him.”

  “I’m not telling you anything. I’m deciding at what point I should kill you and how to do it.”

  “Wait, wait!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “Did someone put him under a spell or something?”

  “No. Ruadan did that to himself, and he’s not available to speak to you right now. As you can see.” Blood poured from Aengus’s wrist onto the stone floor as he aimed his arrow at me. “You have two seconds to pass on your valuable information before I plant an iron arrow in your eye socket. Will it kill you? I’m not sure. It will definitely sting.”

  My heart was a frightened rabbit. I didn’t have a lot of options. And somehow, I didn’t believe Aengus was the traitor. He could be an arsehole, but he’d always been completely loyal to Ruadan. He was trying to protect him even now, in his own obnoxious way.

  I held up my hands, dropping the kni
fe. “Fine. I’m not the source of the Plague. I tortured Maddan to get information from him. There’s a traitor in here. Someone is using the Unholy Grail to spread the Plague, and he’s being commanded by Baleros. When the traitor gets the chance, he’s going to kill Ruadan.” I nodded at the Grand Master. “So whatever is going on with him, you need to assign a guard or several at all times.”

  “I guard him.”

  “Good. Keep doing that. And I’m not done. Baleros’s plan is to weaken the Shadow Fae, steal the World Key, and harvest an army of demons from other realms to take over the world. He will thrive as the Plague spreads. He will use the chaos to make the world his own.”

  Aengus’s bowstring was completely taut.

  My gaze flicked to Ruadan, who didn’t appear to be registering any of this, his eyes empty.

  “You need to protect him.” I could hardly think clearly with the pain shooting through my limbs. “Someone in here wants him dead, and he looks vulnerable. Tell me what’s going on with him.”

  “No.” Aengus loosed his arrow, and it caught me in the chest. I fell hard to the ground, my mind now registering only the pain.

  * * *

  When I woke, my mouth tasted toxic, and my throat felt like I’d swallowed shards of broken glass. I coughed, and agony shot through my chest. I’d been shot once in the back, in the thigh, and once through the collarbone. The iron from the arrows had seeped into my blood. If I weren’t half angel, I’d probably be dead by now.

  Someone had been kind enough to pull the arrows out of me before they’d shoved me into the Palatial Room—the tiniest cell in the Tower’s dungeons. The air was heavy down here, rich with the scent of decay. And … piss. My own, in fact, given the dampness of my trousers.

  Yep, this was definitely a low point in my life.

  I licked my parched lips. For just a moment, I gripped the bars. The brief touch burned my fingers, reminding me that they were made of iron.

  “Barry wants a friend!” A nasal, high-pitched voice rose from the darkness and rattled around my skull.

  “What the fuck,” I muttered under my breath. I couldn’t see much in the gloom, but apparently I’d been stuck down here with another prisoner. One with a voice like nails over a chalkboard.

  “Barry wants to know your name! One, two, threeeeeeee!” The shrill voice pierced my eardrums, and I clamped my hands over my ears.

  Somehow, I could still hear his voice through my palms.

  “Barry likes to eat jam off his fingers. One, two, threeeeeeee!”

  Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up.

  I opened my eyes, still keeping my hands pressed over my ears. After a moment, my eyes began to adjust to the dim light. Somewhere to my left, a torch flickered over the dark cells.

  The warm light wavered over Barry—a hairy creature crouched in the cell across from me. Rags hung off his thin frame, and he sat hunched over, pawing at the ground. Despite his wretched state, he had a lumen stone glowing around his neck. How did he get that? And why didn’t he simply shadow-leap out of here if he had a lumen stone? Maybe I could trick him into giving it to me.

  He grinned at me, his teeth long and filthy. “Barry likes to sing. One, two, threeeeeeee!” he whined in a voice that penetrated my skull, piercing my very soul.

  “Barry!” I shouted. “If you don’t shut up, I will have to kill you.”

  He thrust out his lower lip. “Barry sad.”

  I leaned forward, grabbing the iron bars. I didn’t even care about the pain from the bars any more. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re sad, Barry. I need quiet. I have been poisoned by iron.”

  “Liora needs soft hug,” he shrieked, the nasal voice curling my toes. “Barry’s flesh is soft like a wheel of cheese. One, two, threeeeeeee!”

  I cocked my head. How did this wretch know my name?

  He glared at me from beneath his enormous eyebrows. He looked like some sort of caveman. What the hells was he?

  “Barry,” I said. “How do you know my name?”

  “Barry eats flesh from sheeps in pies. Barry puts peeled oranges in pants. Barry—” A coughing fit interrupted him. When he recovered, I could hear the rasping in his breathing.

  Another plague victim. Good. Maybe he’d be unconscious soon.

  “Since you know so much,” I began, “can you tell me what happened to the Grand Master?”

  “Barry want a friend!”

  I gritted my teeth. “I’ll be your friend if you give me your necklace.”

  A look of panic crossed his features, and he tucked it into his shirt. “Barry wants to love you.”

  I couldn’t take this anymore. I was retreating to my happy place. I pressed my shaking palms over my ears once more, doing my best to block out his shrill yammering.

  I leaned back against the craggy rocks of the Palatial Room, trying to will myself back to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  I completely failed to sleep, and instead was forced to listen to Barry the Caveman shriek about all the types of food he liked, and reiterate his previously established desire for friendship, hugs, and peeled oranges in his pants. He was worse than the iron wounds eating at my body.

  At last, footfalls tapped farther down the hall, then the sound of a coughing fit filled the dank dungeon. Another plague victim coming for us.

  Please. Please, I just need anyone else to talk to.

  By this point, I had no idea how much time had passed. It felt like about eight years. But in non-Barry measurement, where the time passed normally, it was probably something like six hours.

  “Barry likes to feel potatoes! Potatoes have the gentle curves of a woman. One, two, threeeeeeee!”

  Nausea rose in my gut, and I waited eagerly for the new visitor.

  To my shock, Barry stood up in the cell across from me. He dusted off his clothes, and he waved. “Oh, heya, Niall.”

  I blinked. Barry’s voice had become completely normal—soft and deep and ordinary-sounding.

  “Hi, Barry.” Niall—one of the Shadow Fae—crossed into view and carefully handed Barry a thermos through the iron bars.

  “Cheers, mate,” said Barry, sounding like a perfectly normal person. He took a sip. “Oh, you’ve sweetened it as well, that’s lovely. Two sugars? That’s exactly how I like it. You know, I was catching a bit of a chill down here. Bit damp. Not great for the ol’ plague symptoms, if I’m honest,” he grumbled.

  Niall shot me a furious look, and he pointed at me. “We’ve got her to thank for that.”

  At this point, I was thoroughly confused. I gaped as one of Barry’s eyebrows drooped off his face.

  “Whoopsy-daisy.” Barry pressed the eyebrow back on again.

  He was wearing fake eyebrows?

  “Anyone care to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.

  Niall glared at me. “You infected everyone with the Plague, invaded the Institute, and you will likely be exalted in the morning when the Grand Master gives us permission.”

  Exalted, unfortunately, was the ancient fae word for a torturous death. Evisceration, if I remembered correctly.

  Niall pivoted, walking away. No tea for me, I supposed.

  “Wait, Niall. I need to speak to Ruadan.” My voice echoed off the stone walls. Niall did not reply.

  And then, it was just Barry and me again.

  I glanced at him. He leaned against the wall, sipping his tea. He patted his false eyebrow.

  “Who are you, and why have you been tormenting me with that shrill voice?” I asked.

  “Ahh, well, I am in fact Barry.” He coughed again. “Got a bit of the Plague from your death magic, so I’m feeling a little poorly. I’m a new recruit, hoping to be a Shadow Fae. Apparently, there was an opening since you turned out to be a….” He scratched his cheek. “Repulsive abomination or whatever they call it.”

  “They’re calling me a what?”

  “Ruadan, the new Grand Master, disapproved of traditional torture methods, so he asked us to get creative. This what I came
up with. I workshopped it for a few days with the other lads. Aengus said you’d end up in here when we caught you, and we should test it out before your execution. It’s good, right?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Even with all the iron in my blood, there was a chance I could still kill him and everyone else in the Institute if I wanted to. Only the fact that I cared about the Institute stopped me from trying. “And they already gave you a lumen stone?”

  “Guess so. What did you think of the ‘one, two, threeeee’ bit? Niall wasn’t sure—” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m not really supposed to break the fourth wall like this. Do you mind if I just….”

  He took a sip of tea, then returned to his crouching position, hunching over and pawing at the dirt.

  “Barry pretends his hand belongs to a beautiful woman. One, two, threeeeee!”

  Death beats in my breast like raven wings. Their bodies will feed the soil.

  * * *

  Another six hours or perhaps four hundred years passed before Aengus arrived, his loud cough heralding his arrival.

  “Heya, Aengus,” said Barry, cheerfully, dropping character.

  “Good work, Barry.” Aengus’s injured hand had been bandaged, and he glowered at me. “Did you get any information out of her?”

  Barry blinked at him. “I wasn’t really … I didn’t actually know there was a purpose to this, as it were.”

  It seemed like ages since I’d had a sip of water, and my mouth was so dry I could hardly wet my lips enough to speak.

  “Aengus,” I rasped.

  He cocked his head and stared down at me. “Your time has come.”

  My heart sank. “What time has come?”

  “The Grand Master has awakened.”

  This was better news. “Awakened from what?”

  “He was communing with the void.” Aengus started coughing again and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “This illness you spread is deeply unpleasant. I feel that I am rotting from the inside out.”

  “It wasn’t me, fuckwit.” I closed my eyes, marshaling my patience. “You’re letting the real threat swan around the Institute. You’re not even protecting Ruadan right now, because you’re letting Baleros trick you. Look, can you get back to the part about Ruadan communing with the void? What does that mean, and why is he doing that when he clearly has better things to do?”