by Jocelyn Fox
Lumina nodded gracefully. “Galax and I will await your return.”
Galax, true to character, merely gave a nod to Flora and Forsythe as they leapt from the desk to hover by my shoulder.
“Wisp,” Lumina said, beckoning him to her. She leaned so close to him that their auras merged, her delicate pale glimmer mingling with his robust glow. For a moment I thought she was kissing him, but then I realized she was whispering into his ear.
“Yes, my lady,” I heard him say. “When the time is right.”
Wisp bowed, and took Lumina’s hand and kissed it. Galax grunted in disapproval. I smothered a smile as Wisp flew to join Flora and Forsythe.
“All right,” I said to no one in particular. “Ready?”
“We will follow you,” said Forsythe.
“We are ready,” said Flora.
I opened the chamber door and they followed. I shut the door behind me, adjusted the bow on my shoulder and stood in the hallway for a moment, feeling as though I was standing on the edge of a precipice.
“Are you afraid, Tess?” Flora asked me softly.
I grinned. “No,” I said, feeling a strange sort of singing in my bones, “I’m excited.”
And with that, I set off down the hallway to find Guinna and Bren, to tell them that I would be leaving Darkhill and plunging into a world unknown, strafed with shadow and blood. And I was excited about it.
Chapter 22
“Be reasonable, Tess,” said Guinna in a low voice.
I resisted the urge to shift on the bench, meeting her gaze resolutely. The dining-hall was mostly empty, the time of day being between breakfast and lunch. All the same, I was attracting a few curious glances. The Glasidhe had agreed, after a little cajoling, to hide in my quiver and damp their glows. I didn’t want to arouse more suspicion than absolutely necessary, although I supposed I could have gone back to my room for my supplies after talking to Guinna and Bren. But my chamber door had closed with such finality, and my parting with Lumina had had an air of sadness that I didn’t want to revisit.
“I’m done with being reasonable,” I replied to Guinna. “There’s very little that’s reasonable about Faeortalam anyway, when you look at it through my eyes.”
Guinna’s delicately bow-shaped mouth turned down in a pretty frown, and her lovely eyes darkened.
“Look, I’m not going alone anyway. I have the Glasidhe with me,” I pointed out, lowering my voice almost to a whisper at the last sentence. “I have my sword and my bow, and apparently I’m the descendent of a crazy-powerful priestess. Sorceress. Whatever.” I put up a hand as Bren opened her mouth to correct me. “I don’t really care about the correct terminology right now. All I know is that for the first time since I’ve come here I can really do something worth doing.”
“You don’t know where the patrol went,” protested Guinna.
“I have my maps. I know the general direction. And there’s two other Glasidhe who followed them for me.”
“You don’t know what types of creatures are out there,” Guinna said.
I narrowed my eyes. She seemed bent on pointing out every possible flaw in my plan. My voice cooled, my words icy and aloof. “When Titania took me to the ruins of the Saemhradall, I saw the Shadow-servants. I put my sword through one of them, and I helped to kill one before I even came to Darkhill. Don’t tell me that I don’t know what types of creatures are out there.”
“The Queen,” said Guinna persistently, “is preparing the fendhionne to take up the Iron Sword. Then the legions of Unseelie warriors will ride out against Malravenar. Wait until then.”
“You sound like you’re quoting from some proclamation,” I said with bitter humor. Guinna looked away. “Oh, so you are quoting from a proclamation.”
“The Queen declared martial law after the destruction of the Saemhradall. She has also declared a necessary pact between Seelie and Unseelie, in the absence of their Queen.”
“So Titania was captured,” I said in an undertone.
Guinna and Bren remained silent. I kept my eyes on Bren: she’d been uncharacteristically quiet during our whole conversation.
“Well,” I said, “I’m sure that this proclamation was very prettily worded and all, but it doesn’t help the patrol or the rescue party to sit here on my ass, especially considering the whole epic-discovery-of-power and all.” My voice dripped sarcasm. Bren flinched when I mentioned the rescue party. “I’m bound here anyway by Mab, so I might as well do something useful, right?” I smiled mirthlessly. “And I’m going to do it whether you approve or not. I just thought we were good enough friends that you’d care.”
I stood, taking care not to jostle my quiver too much. As I turned away, Bren stood hastily, walking around to my side of the table. I stopped and looked at her. I saw Guinna look down, twisting her folded hands in her lap.
“Do you want me to tell Molly anything?” she asked quietly.
I blinked, and took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I don’t think so…she doesn’t remember me anyway.”
Guinna remained seated at the table as Bren and I walked away.
“It hurts to lose a friend,” Bren said. “You won’t lose my friendship, Tess.”
We stopped at the long table at the back of the dining hall that held bread, cheese and meats for those who wanted to eat their lunch early or take a meal to their room. I took a cloth napkin and spread it out on the edge of the table. Bren took a napkin, too, and started picking out pieces of bread and cheese.
“Guinna is frightened for Emery and the others,” Bren said softly as she deftly folded the napkin into a cloth packet, pushing it across the table toward me. “Just as I am nervous for Donovan. She wants to help…but being so close to the Queen, sometimes it’s a curse rather than a gift.”
“If the Queen asked her about me, she would have to tell her if she knew where I went, wouldn’t she,” I said, understanding. Some of the vague ache that had been building in my chest receded. So Guinna wasn’t trying to shut me out after all. She was trying to protect me.
“Yes. But more often than not I’m lost in the stacks of the Great Library, and you know how scholars can be….very forgetful sometimes,” Bren said with a wicked grin.
“Of course,” I replied mildly, restraining my own smile.
“But in all seriousness,” Bren continued, stepping a little closer to me so we wouldn’t be overheard, “I’m glad you’re going. I wish I could come with you.”
“Why not?” I asked. I suddenly realized I would be very, very glad for the company, even though I already had the Glasidhe coming with me.
Bren shook her head, pursing her lips slightly. “Martial law is not as it is in your world here, Tess.” She tilted her head a little to the side. “I think you might be able to slip through, but Mab would sense me.” Her eyes grew distant. “I would go out there if I could. I know that something horrible has happened.”
“That’s why I’m going out there,” I replied. “I think they’re in trouble, and I can’t say I understand why Mab refuses to help her own people.”
“If the patrol and the rescue party are indeed lost,” Bren said, her voice pained, “then it will be a great blow to Mab’s power. She cannot afford to lose more of her knights, much less another Named Knight if Finnead—”
“Don’t,” I said sharply.
Bren nodded. “You are frightened for Finnead.”
“I’m not frightened for him. He can take care of himself. I just…I want to make sure everyone is all right.” I took my cloth packet and stacked it on top of the one Bren had made, unbuckling my belt and adding the food to the bundle inside my cloak. After a moment’s thought, I took one of the water-skins on the table and tied it to my belt. It went unspoken that the water-skins should be returned to the dining hall after use, but I thought that one p
robably wouldn’t be missed.
Bren walked with me as I strode toward the doors of the dining hall. I looked at her questioningly. Her face set, she said, “If you’re set on this, someone has to give you a crash course on riding.”
I grinned a little at her use of slang. She glanced at me, and her lips twitched in an answering smile.
“So this proclamation,” I said as we walked quickly down the passageway. Bren led the way, taking me down unfamiliar and thankfully deserted halls. “I feel like there’s more to it than you’re telling me.”
“Martial law hasn’t been declared since the sealing of the Great Gate,” Bren explained to me, hitching up her skirts with one hand so she could walk faster. “It’s…kind of a big deal, as you would say.” She flashed me a brief smile. “And under martial law, if the Queen says we cannot leave Darkhill…then we cannot leave Darkhill.”
“It’s like the command that forbids you to speak about iron,” I said.
Bren looked at me sharply. “Yes. I suppose it may be compared to that. In any case, there are guards on all the gates. It will be hard for you to pass them.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage,” I said.
And then came a small courteous voice from my quiver: “Pardon, but it’s getting rather hot in here. May we come out?”
“Sorry, Forsythe,” I said. “Of course.” I paused, holding still until the illumination from the glows’ auras illuminated the dim passageway. As I stood still, I noticed the pulsing glow of taebramh veins in the marble-like wall of the passageway. “Hold on a minute,” I said to Bren, who turned to watch me. I put out a hand. As my fingers got closer to the wall, the veins flared to life, burning with a bright white light. As if from a great distance I heard Bren gasp. She said something in a low voice in the Sidhe tongue, and from the cadence of her voice I guessed that it might have been a sort of prayer.
The singing in my bones made me stand up very straight, as if invisible puppet strings had been pulled taut at my shoulders and the top of my head. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. The taebramh beckoned me. My fingers sank into the wall as if it were a bank of fog, and the veins pulsed and throbbed. Dimly I heard Bren’s murmured prayer fall away into awed silence. The rhythm of the taebramh matched the beat of my heart, and the white light flowed up my arm, snaking around my skin like vines.
And then a voice spoke in my head, a voice different than Mab and Titania, older and with no trace of feminine or masculine differentiation.
It has been long since you have come to me, the voice said in my head, vibrating through my bones.
“I’ve never been here before,” I whispered.
Your blood has been here, replied the voice. And I am not only here.
“What are you?” I asked softly.
I am what I am, and what you are, and all that is.
I laughed a little. “I guess I should have expected an enigmatic answer.”
The voice shifted a little—was it amused too? I know the souls of immortals and mortals alike. I am called differently in every time, in every mind. I know your heart, Tess O’Connor.
“And what do you see there?” I asked, half afraid of the answer.
I see your uncertainty. Do not be afraid. You have the power of worlds in your soul, and you will know how to use it when the time comes. And I see your courage. Your blood runs with the strength of those who came here before you.
“Can you tell me…” I had to pause and take a breath.
I cannot tell you the fate of those you hold in your heart, the voice said almost gently. What shall be, shall be. Do not trouble yourself over all the possibilities in life. There is one path, and it is set before your feet.
“All right,” I said shakily, my vision a haze of silver. “I have to go now…”
Yes, you will go. The voice paused. The south postern gate will be unguarded in exactly one hour.
“Thanks,” I said, and then I pulled my hand out from the throbbing veins of white light. This time, though, the white light didn’t leave me. I felt it pulsing gently in my chest, nestled beside my heart like a living ember. My hand tingled fiercely, like the pins-and-needles of a dead foot, but more intense. When my vision cleared, I found Bren watching me cautiously.
“You were glowing,” she said almost accusingly.
“Told you. Epic power discovery,” I said breathlessly, massaging my hand. I crouched for a minute, pressing my hand between my knees until the sensation started to ebb and I could breathe again. Wisp landed on my shoulder, small hands grabbing my ear for balance.
“You were speaking to the Ancient,” he said in an awestruck voice. “The Source, the Old One.”
“Right,” I said. “I have no idea what any of that means. I spoke to something, and he—she—it was very powerful, I think. Anyway, it said that the southern postern gate would be unguarded in an hour.”
Bren hiked up her skirts again. “Then we have an hour to get to the stables and teach you how to ride. Come on then.”
She started off again down the dim passageway. I glanced at the dimming veins of taebramh one more time before following her, still rubbing at my hand where I felt the vestiges of the ancient voice vibrating in my bones.
I found out quickly that even though Fae mounts looked more delicate than the heavy-boned horses of Pennsylvania farm country, they still smelled very much like horses. Bren made me hide in the shadows at the door of the stables while she made sure there was no one that would jeopardize our secrecy. When she motioned for me to follow her, I stepped as carefully and quietly as I could down the center aisle, trying not to rustle the straw beneath my feet too much. But even with my attempt at stealth, several horses put their heads over the stall doors curiously, watching me with dark, distinctly intelligent eyes. They didn’t whinny or stamp like a normal horse at the intrusion of a stranger into their stables; they merely watched me silently, following my progress down the aisle.
“Creepy,” I said to no one in particular.
“We can help you,” Flora said, hovering just in front of me. “Forsythe and I know their language.”
“Their language?” I asked in surprise.
“They don’t speak, if that’s what you’re going to ask,” Flora said quickly. “But they understand more than you expect, and they understand much better in a particular language.”
“Okay then,” I said. “How does this work? Do I just pick one…or…?” I let the question hang in the air.
“I think for a mission like yours, it would be best to ask for a volunteer,” Bren said with an air of practicality. “After all, it’s rather dangerous out there. You wouldn’t want to take an unwilling mount.”
“Would they be offended if I called them horses?” I asked.
“Slightly. But since you don’t know our language, they will probably forgive you.” Bren set down the tack on a stool, and brushed her hands on her skirt. “Now then.” She put two fingers in her mouth and gave a sharp whistle. The horses that weren’t already at the doors of their stalls slipped their heads out into the passageway, ears raised in attentiveness. Bren spoke in a soft voice in the Sidhe tongue, presumably explaining who I was and what I intended to do. A few horses shook their head and turned around, which I assumed meant they wanted nothing to do with me. At the end of Bren’s explanation, there were five or six horses still listening, out of the twenty or so.
“Not all of them think what you are doing is too risky,” explained Bren. “I asked them to step back if they knew they were not the fastest or strongest, if they knew they were too old to properly undertake such a task.”
I was impressed, and I was about to say as much when Wisp said into my ear, “Don’t say that you’re impressed by how intelligent they are. That would be an insult. Better to just let them sort it out themselves.”
“Oh
,” I said, abashed. “I won’t, then. Thanks.”
“Just doing my duty as a loyal sidekick,” said Wisp.
I chuckled. “What makes you think you’re a sidekick? And where in the world did you hear that?”
“In your world, actually,” said Wisp. “Fascinating things, televisions. Can’t see why they’re so captivating for so long, though.”
I shrugged and then apologized when Wisp protested at being thrown off balance.
“All right then,” said Bren, motioning to me. She unbolted the door of a stall, and one of the Fae mounts walked calmly out into the center aisle, turning its head to inspect me. “This is Kaleth, and he knows the path of the patrol. He’s one of the fastest mounts here, and he’s fought in a few battles, so if it comes to that, just hold on.”
Compared to the other horses in the stable—or those I could see, at any rate—Kaleth stood a good head taller than most of them, which I reasoned was good because I would definitely be heavier than the light-boned Sidhe. He was a dark roan sort of color, deep gray and then mottled into a deep blue with touches of black at his hindquarters and hooves. His mane and tail were a coarse black. His gray eyes, an unsettling color for a horse, regarded me steadily as Bren busily strapped on his tack.
“Don’t try to hobble him at night, because if he wants to leave there isn’t much you could do to stop him,” said Bren as she tightened a strap. “He’ll take care of himself as far as food and water.”
I saw that Kaleth didn’t have a coat, like mortal horses. I remembered from the painting in my room the suggestion of scales, and reached out one hand curiously. Kaleth blew out a breath but stood still as I touched his neck. It was dry and smooth, with a hint of scaly texture, but warm, not cold like a snake or other reptile. Bren paused, looked at Kaleth and then continued adjusting straps and buckles.
