She came in. ‘I’ll see you dead first,’ she told him.
Denny nodded.
She turned to a contingent of faeries that had followed her in. ‘Kill him,’ she ordered. ‘Quickly,’ she added. ‘No fun, just do it and then meet us at the stones.
‘At least we can do that,’ she muttered to herself.
She turned to Denny. ‘I wanted it to be you,’ she said. ‘But I will find another. Fool, I could have given you everything and your rejection will not change the outcome.’
And she swept out of the room.
‘Blah blah blah!’ thought Denny.
‘Make it quick boys,’ he said as the Faeries closed in. ‘You heard the lady.’ He closed his eyes and an explosion took place in his cerebrum. Of course, he had had a weapon against the Sidhe all along. Only he had not seen it as a weapon. Because Faeries loved it, loved it so much that it made them dippy. ‘Iron to bind and music to maze.’
He hummed a few experimental opening bars.
The effect was electric. The Faeries were fascinated. They stopped and stared at him with their mouths open. He charged up the beat and began to sing. And Denny could really sing. The Faeries began to dance. He felt like the pied piper.
* * *
‘What’s that?’ said Tamar as they ran down a deserted corridor.
Stiles listened. ‘Sounds like “Come on Eileen”.’
Tamar smiled. ‘Denny.’
‘But why would he be singing?’
‘I don’t know, maybe it’s a signal, maybe he heard us coming. Where’s it coming from?’
Stiles looked around wildly, as if that would help, and noticed something else.
‘Where the hell is everyone?’
‘Sshhh!’
Tamar lifted her head and closed her eyes to listen. It is incredibly difficult to isolate the direction of a distant sound – it always sounds as if it’s coming from everywhere.
Then she looked down suddenly. ‘It’s coming from underneath us,’ she said.
‘Dungeons?’ said Stiles.
Tamar rolled her eyes. ‘I might have known,’ she said disparagingly.
* * *
The problem with this plan, Denny was realising, was that he could not keep it up forever. His voice was beginning to crack although the dancing Faeries did not seem to have noticed (it does not have to be fantastic music. Faeries are fascinated by any music).
He had been weak to begin with, and now he felt exhausted. He hoped to God that Tamar found him soon.
* * *
As Tamar burst into the dungeon, the already befuddled Faeries scattered in disarray. Tamar never noticed them go – she was staring in horror at Denny. ‘Oh no!’ she gasped.
Flayed and flambéed, he was chained to a pillar and looked as if he might be already dead.
However, he must have been semi-conscious because he flinched away with a look of terror that wrenched at Tamar’s heart when she raised the sword to cut his bonds.
‘No!’ he screamed. Then, his legs folded up beneath him and he collapsed to the floor like a puppet that has had its strings cut.
He looked up ruefully at her from the floor. ‘They broke my bloody legs,’ he told her wryly.
Tamar gathered him up. ‘How did they do this to you?’
Denny pointed to the Athame sticking up out of the rock. Tamar nodded. At that moment, Stiles arrived and took in the scene.
Tamar turned to him.
‘There’s about a hundred of them upstairs,’ he said.’
Tamar’s face was grim. She lifted Denny and reached out her hand towards the Athame, which flew, into her hand.
She nodded to Stiles. ‘Burn it down,’ she said callously.
Stiles looked at the wreck of Denny, his expression grim ‘Right!’ he said curtly.
Tamar disappeared with Denny in her arms.
* * *
The Athame could not heal, its only defect – a remnant of its history as a demonic weapon. Tamar could heal though, but it was going slowly. Denny had lost consciousness again after Tamar healed his broken legs. This had hurt a lot. Magical healing is not a case of waving your hands about and praying (that’s faith healing). Magical healing works like regular healing only a lot faster. And Tamar was crying a lot.
She had thought that she had hated Askphrit, but she realised now that that hatred had been a pale thing compared to her hatred of the Queen of the Sidhe. What was 5000 years of servitude compared to this?
She shuddered. Don’t think about that. Denny had saved her from that, and that was that.
And if she lost Denny …
It was a distinct possibility. It was too soon to tell, but they might have got to him too late. Even with her accelerated healing powers, there comes a point of no return for everybody. Not even Tamar could raise the dead. And Denny was failing fast.
His skin was healing, and he was beginning to look more like himself. He opened his eyes, and Tamar felt her heart beat faster. He tried to speak.
‘Shh,’ she told him. ‘It’s okay, wait until you’re stronger.
He shook his head frantically. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You have to find the Queen. She’s going to kill Cindy.’
Behind them, the flames rose from the Faerie palace.
~ Chapter Ten ~
‘Where?’ demanded Tamar.
‘I dunno. She mentioned st-stones. That was it – the blood of the witch on the stones. I – I don’t know where …’
‘I do.’
Denny smiled. ‘Of course you do,’ he said.
‘How is he?’ Stiles knelt down beside the prostrate Denny. ‘Oh Jesus!’ he said.
‘No, he’s past the worst now,’ said Tamar. ‘Take care of him.’ And before Stiles could argue, she rose to her feet and took off to the stones.
‘What the hell…?’ began Stiles. But Denny had passed out again.
This time Tamar knew exactly where she was going, she could feel the pull of the stones from here. It took her a few moments to realise that this was because she was wearing a hundred pounds of iron chain mail and not due to any mystical senses that she might possess. It came in handy though.
She could see the fire through the trees. Hundreds of shadowy figures shimmered darkly against the flames. There was laughter and muffled screams. And from the centre of the circle, only just discernible against the background of smoke from the fire, a fog was rising.
Tamar felt frozen to the spot – helpless. She could not see Cindy, although she could hear her. Then, even that was drowned out by the sound of chanting. Low at first, so low that she could not make out the words, then louder and louder, faster and faster escalating to frenzy.
‘Kill the witch, spill her blood, seal the spell.’
‘Kill the witch, cut her throat, spill her blood.’
Still Tamar could not move. Horror had taken hold of her and her legs felt rooted to the ground, spellbound by a morbid fascination.
The Faeries were dancing around the fire like savages at some horrible cannibalistic feast. It gave Tamar an idea. Unfortunately, her legs still felt like they were stuck in concrete.
The chanting stopped abruptly, and the spell broke over Tamar like a crashing wave. She staggered in the immensity of the sudden, heavy silence that fell and a hideous dread came over her.
The Faeries gathered.
A pulsing beat came thumping through the trees. The Faeries turned in helpless fascination as Tamar came strolling towards the fire with a massive ghetto blaster perched on her shoulder.
* * *
Denny opened his eyes and sat up suddenly. ‘Where’s the Athame?’ he croaked.
Stiles was amused despite himself. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked. He handed Denny the Athame, still stuck in its bit of rock.
‘Tamar couldn’t get it out,’ said Stiles. ‘But I think she was pretty confident that you would be able to.’
Denny pulled it. It slid out easily, and Denny grinned.
‘It belongs to you,’ said
Stiles solemnly.
Denny laughed. ‘The old sword in the stone trick?’ he said. ‘Nah, this is Tamar’s idea of a pick me up. She was just trying to boost me up or something.’ He waved the stone at Stiles. ‘It’s not even the same rock.’
Stiles deflated. ‘Oh,’
Denny shifted himself upright. ‘Gone has she?’ he asked.
‘Yeah. You know where?’
‘Let’s get after her then,’ said Denny. ‘Before she does something – you know – Tamar-like. I’ll explain on the way. You’ll have to lead, though.’
‘I will?’
Denny looked concerned suddenly. ‘You do know the way to the stones, don’t you?’ he asked. ‘I mean I just assumed …’
‘Why has she gone there?’
Denny looked relieved. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Like I said, I’ll explain on the way.’
Denny did not put his authoritarian head on very often, but when he did – it was strange Stiles thought – but whole armies would have followed him. Stiles had no chance.
‘All right,’ he said.
* * *
Tamar pushed her way through the dancing Faeries, ignoring them, until she reached Cindy who was tied to a stake in the middle of the stones and looking terrified. Tamar marched up to her and cut her bonds with the sword. Cindy identified her then. ‘Oh, Tamar,’ she gasped. ‘I knew you’d come. You or Denny at least, but probably you. Where is Denny? – And Jack,’ she added as an afterthought.’
Tamar turned cold eyes on Cindy. ‘Run,’ she said.
‘I didn’t mean to hurt her,’ babbled Cindy. I mean I didn’t know what I was doing, but she’ll be all right, I mean she’s a goddess. Oh, and they took my boy.’ The words ended on a sob.’
Tamar softened a little. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘But you can get him back for me.’ It was not a question, it was a statement made with absolute certainty.
Tamar hesitated. Then she took Cindy by the shoulders. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she promised. ‘Now you have to get out of here. Denny and Jack are in the woods somewhere. Okay?’
Cindy nodded, satisfied. If Tamar said she would do her best, then it was as good as done. Tamar never failed.
When she had gone, Tamar turned to the Faerie Queen, who was swaying slightly with a blank look on her face, and slapped her across the face.
The Queen passed from semi-comatose to completely alert (and angry) in less than a split second.
‘This is my world!’ Tamar told her. ‘Get Out!’
* * *
By a fortunate coincidence Cindy ran almost straight into Denny (a not altogether unpleasant experience, but she was too distraught to appreciate it) and Stiles.
‘Where’s Tamar?’ snapped Denny looking over her head urgently.
‘B-back there,’ stammered Cindy pointing behind her.
Denny almost threw Cindy at Stiles and carried on running.
Stiles faltered and stopped short hanging on to Cindy, he watched helplessly as Denny disappeared into the shadows ‘I guess it’s all up to them now,’ he said.
* * *
Hecaté came round slowly to find the changeling pulling on her arm.
‘Wake up, wake up,’ it snarled angrily.
Hecaté went from horizontal to vertical in one smooth, horrified movement. ‘Urrrgh,’ she exclaimed involuntarily.
‘No time, no time,’ wailed the changeling. ‘Must help. She’s got her.’
Hecaté made no answer to this extraordinary statement, of which she could make neither head nor tail. Instead, she turned away with extreme dignity and walked haughtily away fighting down the instinct to run.
But the changeling was not giving up so easily. It flew in front of her blocking the doorway. ‘Please,’ it begged plaintively.
Hecaté stopped short. This behaviour was sufficiently uncharacteristic to get her attention.
‘Suppose you explain what you are talking about,’ she said cautiously. ‘I am not saying that I will believe you, however,’ she added.
‘She took Mummy,’ said the changeling. ‘She took her for bad things, and the king is’t there, and I don’ know what t’ do.’
It occurred to Hecaté that the changeling did not just look like a child – it was a child, albeit a Faerie child. She wondered how she was to make sense of whatever it was trying, apparently quite desperately, to tell her.
She decided to start at the beginning. Who has taken your … Cindy?’ she asked.
* * *
‘Jacky was taking me to someone called Finvarra,’ said Cindy breathlessly as they ran along. ‘Then she came out of nowhere, and about a hundred Faeries grabbed me and … and … can we stop a minute please?’
Stiles skidded to a halt. ‘Who came out of nowhere, the Queen?’ he asked.
‘That’s what they called her,’ agreed Cindy.
‘What happened to Ja … the changeling?’
‘He kind of freaked out. I don’t know what happened to him after that. They were too many for him. He’s only little.’
‘So,’ said Stiles slowly trying to get a handle on this unexpected development. ‘He – it wasn’t with her?’
‘No, definitely not,’ said Cindy positively. ‘He tried to save me from her. But he couldn’t.’
‘Oh,’ said Stiles. ‘That’s a twist.’
~ Chapter Eleven ~
‘This is my world – Get out!’
The Faerie Queen smiled and shrugged at Tamar. ‘Very well then,’ she said and stepped lightly to one side and vanished between the stones.
Tamar gaped. It couldn’t be that easy. There had to be a catch.
‘There is,’ said Denny reading her mind. ‘She expects you to go after her. – But you aren’t that stupid of course,’ he added artfully. Knowing full well that that was precisely what the vengeful Tamar wanted to do.
‘I’m not? I mean – I am?’ said Tamar bewildered.
‘She has the power in there.’ Denny said. ‘Stands to reason, it’s her world. And you can’t take any iron with you through those stones because of the magnetism.’
‘I know,’ said Tamar. ‘But if we just leave her there, she’ll come back,’ she added.
‘Well?’ Denny waited.
‘I know what you’re thinking, but I can’t seal up the portal,’ said Tamar. ‘It takes the blood of a witch. A lot of blood.’ She shuddered. ‘That’s what she was trying to do with Cindy. She was going to seal herself on this side of the portal.’
‘Oh,’ said Denny. ‘How do you know all this?’
‘A little Faerie told me,’
‘Have you been “questioning” people again?’
‘No, Jack did the questioning. I just looked scary.’
‘Then I suppose the information is bona fide,’ Denny conceded. No one could resist Tamar’s icy glare. Even vampires crumbled – even gods. ‘So what do we do?’
Tamar shrugged. ‘We wait I guess,’ she said, ‘’till she comes back. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m going to have to face her sooner or later. And better on my turf than hers.’
Denny nodded. ‘That’s sense,’ he said.
‘After all,’ she added wickedly. ‘I’m certainly not stupid enough to go after her.’
‘Of course you aren’t.’
‘I mean, that’s just what she wants, isn’t it?’
‘All right, all right, you’ve made your point.’
Tamar smiled, softly serious. ‘Thank you Denny.
‘Anyway,’ she continued briskly. ‘In the meantime, we have more than enough to do here.’
They looked around them at the still maniacally dancing Faeries. Tamar hefted her sword.
‘Let’s start with this lot then,’
* * *
‘Jacky said that this Finvarra wanted to see me, that I would be safe there. He didn’t explain it very well, but he must have meant from – you know… her!’
‘Queen Onagh,’ muttered Stiles. Then he turned sternly to Cindy
. ‘That … creature isn’t Jacky you know.’
Cindy dropped her eyes. I know,’ she said quietly. ‘But I don’t know what else to call him.’
‘It,’ corrected Stiles.
Cindy shuddered. ‘Don’t!’ she begged. ‘I mean, I fed him, bathed him, sang him to sleep. I can’t think about … not now.’
Stiles relented. ‘Not now then,’ he agreed.
‘Perhaps we should find this Finvarra,’ suggested Cindy after a short silence.
‘That’ll be awkward,’ said Stiles. ‘He’s dead.’
* * *
Hecaté had slowly pieced together, from the changeling’s ramblings, the following facts. (Always assuming it was telling the truth, and Hecaté was not taking anything on faith)
One: that the changeling was not a part of the Faerie Queen’s court, and he had been born in this world.
Two: he had been placed with Cindy by King Finvarra (whoever he was) to watch over her when the King had discovered that the Faerie Queen had returned. He did not know how the king knew that the Queen would go after Cindy, but somehow he did. Cindy’s real baby was safe with King Finvarra; only the king knew where he was.
Three: having been brought up by Cindy for the last two years, he thought of her as his real mother and was desperately unhappy that the Queen had got her.
Four: the Queen was going to kill Cindy.
Five: King Finvarra was going to be furious when he found out.
Six: Denny was also in unspecified danger from the Queen. That was why he had bitten his leg, to keep him from going back into the forest. But it had not worked. And now everyone had gone, and it was all Tamar’s fault – he did not like Tamar, she was hard like iron. (Hecaté thought this was a little unfair although she could see what he meant)
Having got all this sorted out, Hecaté decided that she had no choice but to go herself with the changeling (who, if he was telling the truth, she decided, she and the others had seriously misunderstood) into the forest.
Hecaté was not afraid of Faeries, having indeed, a store of supernatural powers of her own, not, in fact, dissimilar in origin to that which the Faeries themselves wielded. Of course, she was not as powerful as Tamar, but she felt that, should she need to, she could hold her own.
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