The Forgotten Trilogy

by Cecilia Randell

  Shadowed shapes twisted through the trees’ trunks without revealing themselves. Some carried the bulk of giants, and others were slender as a Starved Man. The Hunt was closing in.

  It was time to go. Dub and Ari stood just a bit in front of Shar and facing out. Cuchi stood on Shar’s blind side. Turning his head to face the guardi captain, Shar frowned. “Now is a good time.” Why was the guardi hesitating in transporting them out of here?

  Cuchi gave an answering frown. “Not yet.”

  Dub twisted around, his scowl fierce enough to frighten pixies into silence. “The Hunt’s not after us, or them. They’ll go for the human, and the harp, once they realize their true prey is no longer here. We’re no’ stupid.” He turned fully and squared up with Cuchi. “Get us out of here and back with the others. The guardi can by-damned be useful in this for once, and at least delay them.”

  Cuchi cast a disparaging look upon Dub then turned his attention back to the trees, eyes narrowed. Shar didn’t care either way about past blood and old grudges, not now. “What are you waiting for?”

  The shadows grew thicker until all Shar could make out were slivers and snips of tree trunks and leaves. A low growl reached them.

  “That. I was waiting for that.” Cuchi flicked a finger at the circle of guardi and they fanned out to advance on the tree line.

  Where were the howls, the stamping hooves and neighs and other sounds of restless beasts? Why did the Hunt not attack, or rush the defenders where they stood in the open clearing?

  A Fear Dearg grinned. “Ye’re ta late. We’ve go’ th’ scent no’.” Then it and its fellows disappeared into the shadows as suddenly as they had appeared.

  “Gobsmacking balls of shite.” Cuchi cursed and pulled out his phone. “After them!” he shouted to the guardi.

  The four men and women rushed the tree line, no longer worried about stealth, and their war cries rang stark in the still morning air.

  Then Cuchi twisted his hands, and the four of them were gone. Finally.

  BAT

  She studied Finn’s face, looking for a clue as to what put that look of apprehension on his face. “Understood,” he said, and tucked his phone away. Lowering his head, he stared at his boots for a good five seconds before sighing. “That was Cu Chulainn, he—”

  Mell’s phone went off, and then Ailis’s a moment after.

  Bat’s gaze darted between the three, searching for any telltale signs of what the news could be. Mell’s expression closed down and his emotions pulled back into a blank and impenetrable wall. Ailis’s brows pulled together and her lips turned down in a subtle frown then lifted into a wicked grin. Finn continued to frown as his eyes slid closed in what looked like weary resignation.

  Ailis finished first. “That was Ciara and Con. They missed us, what with the whole Fear Dearg attacking and the leaving early. They’re going to meet us just outside of Londonderry.”

  Cliona’s head jerked back. “Con’s joining the fun?” A smile, nearly as wicked as Ailis’s, crossed her face.

  Con, a kind old man who’d helped to give her directions on her first day in Ireland. She’d run into him a few times since, either at the pub or at Ailis’s store. What was so special about him?

  “Dub and the others are away, safe for now,” Mell said, interrupting her musings.

  She jerked her head around to stare. Where were they?

  “Dub says they’re about half-way to Londonderry, they’ll meet us at Finnegan’s just outside of town. And—”

  “The Wild Hunt is after the human,” Finn finished. “Criedne and the rest of my team are attempting to keep the Hunt distracted, but they won’t be able to manage it for long. We need to get moving, now.”

  The Wild Hunt. They were supposed to go after those who had morally lost their way, those who had committed crimes, who were wicked. They were the ultimate neutral force in judgment. They did not show mercy, but they also did not pursue unsuitable targets.

  Why were they helping Balor? Had he come to them in dreams and made promises, twisted their perceptions of right and wrong just as he had attempted to do with her?

  Then another thought came to her. The Morrigan said only a few fae and sluagh knew what was happening with Balor. But how could that be if he had swayed The Wild Hunt to his side?

  It seemed there were many more players in this than the Irish gods knew.

  Bat peered through the assembled fae to where Daniel stood, the set of his limbs and slumped shoulders screaming weariness. His eyes were less wild, but confusion still pinched his brows.

  Had she made a mistake in insisting they wait here for the others? Should they have continued on to Londonderry and gotten farther away from the Hunt? Doubts clung to her like the dark mud of a flooded Nile, but held none of the mud’s life-giving properties.

  And where did this new wave of uncertainty come from? It reminded her of her hesitation in beginning anything with the brothers, and Finn. It seemed there were more wounds in her soul than she had yet spotted.

  Shaking off the useless musings, she stepped up next to Finn. Bat gave him a nod, indicating that it was time to go.

  “We’ll finish this up at Finnegan’s, then, and regroup.” Finn gestured the rest of the fae closer. They gathered their packs and then, with another twist of his hands, Finn took them away once more.

  Chapter 3

  SCATH

  Finnegan’s. The voice whispered to him. Go to Finnegan’s. You will find them there.

  Scath eyed Alatrom, who sat in his plain wooden chair, at a bare wood table, in an office that overlooked the shipping yard of northern Londonderry. It was only a facade for the humans, of course. Most of the Clan’s business was conducted aboard The Golden Crane, the clan leader’s yacht.

  The wooden chair creaked as Alatrom leaned back. A bulk once massive with muscle was now running to fat, though the head of the Crane clan remained a formidable Fomoiri.

  Lies. Scath wasn’t sure if it was his own thought or the voice’s—Balor’s. The connection had formed decades ago, beginning with subtle whispers in his dreams. He’d recognized his former leader almost immediately. And he’d found out soon after that the Crane brooch Alatrom wore on his chest was a fake, a lie—just like the man.

  Alatrom slammed the report he was reading down onto the desk. “Damn tithes are going to be the death of me. Whose brilliant idea was it to set up an excise tax on peacocks?”

  And whose brilliant idea was it to put peacocks on our ships? But Scath knew better than to ask the question aloud. He didn’t have enough support yet to depose the oaf as clan leader. Once Balor was back, though, the Fomoiri King would need to know his clan leaders were loyal to him and him alone. And Scath was that, utterly and completely Balor’s man.

  Until it was time to act, Scath needed to play his role of loyal lieutenant well.

  Chapter 4

  Bastie,

  Have you ever been so happy you had trouble moving? Well, I now know what that feeling is like.

  Things are moving extremely fast now, and they are beginning to get away from me.

  I have to wonder about my adequacy as a goddess. A deity should be better at managing her existence.

  - Bat, an overwhelmed goddess

  BAT

  She peered around the narrow alley. It was very like the one behind her pub, only there was no garden here. Finn, Mell, Daniel and the rest crowded together around her, blocking most of her view.

  It was only a couple of minutes after they arrived that a rust-red door swung open. A short blond man stood there. He was stocky, with a full beard, and something about his demeanor reminded her of Cu Chulainn—arrogant and all too full of himself. Their gazes met and the edge of his lips curled up in a smirk before he shifted his gaze to Finn.

  “That all of ya?” the man asked.

  “For now.” Finn’s voice was hard.

  “Well, get in here then. I’m after strengthening the wards. Won’t hold for long, not with The Hunt, but they’
ll do for now.” The man pushed the door wide and stepped back.

  Finn leapt up the short steps that led to the back stoop and caught the edge of the door before it could close. “In, now,” he ordered.

  The pixies wasted no time, zipping into the building in bright streaks. Mell nudged the banshees to get them moving, and Bat grabbed Daniel’s left arm while Old Mike supported the human’s right side. She moved him through the door and the rest followed close behind.

  They trooped though the kitchen and out to the common room of the empty pub. “Now what?” she asked Finn as their small band of mismatched immortals found seats for themselves around the scattered tables.

  “Now we wait. We’ll give them thirty minutes.”

  She nodded. “And then?”

  “Then we get away from the Hunt.”

  She nearly rolled her eyes, but restrained herself. It was a bad habit that she didn’t want to pick up.

  Ailis did it for her, though, the whites of her eyes showing. “That is obvious.”

  “We get a boat,” Mell cut in. His tone was harsh.

  “We’ll wait until Dub and Shar are here to discuss it,” Finn said.

  It took a moment for Bat to catch on. The only place she knew of to get a boat would be…

  Their father.

  As much as she hated it, it was a good move. “It would be smart,” she said, avoiding Mell’s gaze. “We need to assess where his loyalties lie. Sometimes the best way to sort enemy from… well, not-enemy, is a direct confrontation.”

  There was silence.

  “You’re right,” Mell said. He moved to one of the tables, pulling Bat along with him and into a seat. “But we need to wait for Dub and Shar so we can discuss the best way to approach him.”

  “I think…” she trailed off. She didn’t want to say it.

  Ailis sent her an understanding glance before joining the other trooping fae at a corner table, leaving Bat to her discussion with Mell and Finn. The pub’s owner, Finnegan, had gone behind the bar. He leaned against it, a deliberate expression of boredom masking his thoughts.

  Then he straightened and strode to the back door. Bat sat up in her seat, her gaze following after him and her heart pounding.

  They’re here. Cuchi and Ari came through the doorway first. Then Dub entered, his clothes torn and bloody. She scanned his body, taking note of each injury, every scrape and cut and bruise. Her gaze moved past his as the last figure filled the doorway. His long hair had come loose and blood had splattered across his face and eyepatch, but he was here. Killer ran to them and sniffed each man in turn, his tail working in swift sweeps of welcome.

  They were all here.

  She slumped back in her seat, the anxiety and nervous energy that had been keeping her going leaving in a rush.

  They were safe, and they were here.

  “Storeen, is that any way to greet a returning warrior?” Dub’s usual frown was absent and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

  Was he teasing her? Now? Perverse wanker. “If I could walk right now, I would have leapt on you in joy, but my legs don’t seem to be working,” she said, her relief turning to giddiness. Her lips stretched into a wide smile.

  Dub scowled. “What’s wrong with your legs?”

  Ah, that was the grumpy not-man she knew.

  “Nothing,” she said. “I just…”

  “She’s been in a bit of a tizz since we transported away,” Finn said.

  “Since we left them behind, you mean.” Bat crossed her arms over her chest.

  “A stor.” Shar waited until she looked at him. He held his arms open. “Come here.”

  Then her legs found their strength. She leapt to her feet and ran to him. He scooped her up against his chest, one arm under her butt, the other snaking around her waist. Wrapping her legs around him, she snuggled into his chest, ignoring the scents of blood and sweat that invaded her nose.

  They remained together for only a few seconds before Dub cut in. “Hand her over. My turn.” Hard hands wrapped around each of her arms and she was lifted away from her giant pirate. She hung in Dub’s grip for a half second before she was placed back on her feet. He spun her around to face him and their gazes locked, bright lapis-blue meeting dark brown.

  Dub’s hand cupped her cheek and he lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers.

  “I was afraid I’d lost you,” she whispered.

  He frowned. It was his concerned frown, though. She pressed her cheek into his palm.

  “I’m not that easy to get rid of,” Dub finally said. “None of us are.”

  Bat nodded, the sensitive skin of her cheek rubbing against his callused fingers. “I know.”

  They left it at that. There were possibly more things she could or should say, but in that moment she didn’t feel that any more words were necessary.

  Cuchi cleared his throat. “No special greeting for me, goddess?”

  Bat glared at him. He chuckled and raised his hands.

  She still did not like this man who had once hurt her not-men in a ridiculous battle over a woman who was long gone—she assumed. But she had managed to find a wary peace with him over the last few days.

  Stepping away from Dub, she gathered her scattered emotions and fought to put her mind back on the task at hand, something that was surprisingly difficult for her to do.

  “How long do we have?” she asked.

  “The Hunt?” Dub asked.

  She nodded.

  Finn and Dub exchanged a glance as the rest of the gathered immortals looked on. Tension and anticipation rode heavy in the air despite their silence.

  “No more than a half day at most,” Finn finally said.

  “Then we need to ma—“

  “Incoming,” Finnegan shouted.

  Instantly, those who had sat sprang to their feet.

  “Shit, we should have had more time.” After a short glance at Bat, Finn spun around and grabbed Daniel. The guardi threw the human over his shoulder. “No time for arguing or arranging now, goddess.” He turned to Dub. “We need a boat.”

  Dub’s face darkened, but he nodded. “Not the way I wanted to do this,” he muttered.

  Bat’s hands crept up. One clutched at her necklace while the other gripped the strap on her harp case.

  Flash. Cu Chulainn beside the stone vessel. Blood poured from a wound on his head. He reached up and wiped his fingers through it, then smeared the red substance over the lip of the stone. It glowed, light turning the blood to rubies. There were four other similar stains, ranging around the circumference of the vessel. Ailis, Finn, Dub, and she herself stood beside them.

  Bat pulled her harp from its case and strummed a light tune. The cauldron hummed in answer, resonating with the notes Bat pulled from the instrument. As she continued to play, the cauldron began to emit an aura of… longing. It longed to return to its original purpose, to birth something new, something sacred.

  Bat continued to pluck the strings. The harp was working its magic, not just on the cauldron, but on all those gathered around it. As the song carried away from where she stood, she became aware of a battle in the distance. Gradually, the sounds of fighting faded away.

  Daniel appeared before her, but he was no longer the human tourist she had so briefly met before all this began. His eyes glinted a deep green. Blood was smeared across his face and clothes.

  “Thank you, little goddess,” the man who was no longer Daniel said with a wicked grin.

  Bat blinked.

  “Finnegan, can you get a feel for how many of them there are?” Shar called out.

  The bar owner closed his eyes, a look of concentration on his face. “No more than half a dozen.” His eyelids twitched. “Don’t think it’s the Hunt, doesn’t have the right feel.” His eyes shot open. “You’ve probably got about ten minutes before they break through my wards.” His tongue shot out and flicked, almost as if he was scenting the air. “Tastes like… clan.”

  Finnegan strode out from behind the ba
r. Dub fully turned away from Bat as they squared off. “Just what did you O’Loinsigh brothers get me into?”

  Bat’s mind swirled with the meaning of this new vision. No time to sort it right now. Then Finnegan’s words registered. Had the brothers not told him what was going on? Was he not to be trusted?

  This was too important a question to be left unanswered. She reached out with her mind and searched his heart. She didn’t really have the power to spare, but this was necessary.

  There was darkness there, but it was not… malicious. He had the potential for wicked actions and deeds, but he had not yet tipped over the edge into evil.

  She made a decision, not giving herself time to doubt. “Balor,” she said, stepping a little to the side so she could face Finnegan directly. “We have gotten you into a situation against Balor, who is trying to escape from death.” And become a god, she added silently. But that was something she couldn’t let anyone know of.

  Finnegan’s eyes rolled much like Ailis’s had and his lips pressed together. He looked torn between horror and laughter.

  The laughter finally won. “Ya expect me ta believe that The Evil Eye is coming back, now?”

  Bat didn’t back down. “Yes. And you will need to come with us from this point.” They couldn’t leave him here, not now that they had already been tracked. Either he would be in danger, or he could reveal their numbers and what he had heard so far of their plans—not that they had said much to him.

  Flash. A boy, no more than three, cowered at the feet of a swarthy giant who had a red eye painted on his forehead. The boy was covered in bruises, and one of his arms hung at an unnatural angle.

  “I will not let him hurt you again,” was all she said. The words were general enough, but Finnegan flinched.

  “Who are you?”

  Bat turned her head to Dub, her expression questioning. Had they not told this not-man anything?

  Dub shrugged. “He owes me a favor. I was cashing it in for the use of his place for a few hours. Finnegan’s a good man, but he’s like me. Doesn’t like to poke his nose in politics and power plays.” The last was said with a resigned sneer.