Faerie Tale

by Nicola Rhodes

  The water was so blue it looked dyed, and so still that it reflected a perfect mirror image of his face.

  ‘Ugh,’ he said and bent down to splash said face with (hopefully) cold water.

  It happened so fast that even Tamar could not react in time. A figure, that appeared to be composed of water, itself rose vertically from the stream’s surface, extended watery arms, grabbed Denny round the neck and pulled him in.

  There was not even a splash. He just disappeared.

  Tamar forced herself to remain calm. She glanced from a safe distance into the water, but it had regained its smooth mirror-like surface. There was nothing to be seen.

  ‘Big mistake Onagh,’ she muttered. ‘If you want a fight, you’ll get more than you bargained for. Denny’s mine and no one’s taking him away from me. I know you can hear me! I’m coming to get you.’

  ‘Be afraid,’ she thought dramatically. ‘Be very afraid.’

  She raised her head and shouted to the blazing pink sky. ‘I’M COMING TO GET YOU!’

  * * *

  ‘Here we go again,’ thought Denny wearily. It was even the same dungeon – or an exact facsimile anyway.

  There were differences this time though. No Athame taunting him from a safe distance for one thing (he had not brought it with him). No other Faeries had appeared yet either. It would appear that there would be no torture this time.

  She was different this time too. Softer, gentler, more conciliatory, and, if it had not been too incredible, she seemed almost humble.

  ‘No singing here,’ she said. ‘No breath.’

  Denny nodded. He knew it, he and Tamar, and now he and the Queen had not actually been speaking to each other in the usual way at all, he realised. He was so used to telepathy that he had not really noticed it until now. Even now, he barely noticed the difference.

  ‘No magic, at least no magic that you can use,’ she shrugged. ‘Unless you join me.’

  Denny contrived by his expression to indicate that this was not even worth answering.

  She pouted. ‘Look at me!’ she ordered him petulantly. ‘I shouldn’t have to beg you to love me.’

  ‘I shouldn’t bother if I were you,’ he said callously.

  Her face darkened. ‘So you say,’ she said. ‘But I have broken stronger men than you.’

  ‘Uh oh,’ he thought. ‘Looks like the torture might be back on the menu after all.’

  She smiled. ‘We are in my world now,’ she said. ‘New rules.’ She brought her face up close to his. ‘Tell me you love me,’ she ordered.

  Denny opened his mouth to say it. Then shut it again firmly. ‘No! Don’t say it, but I want to. No you don’t. It hurts. Shut up. don’t say it. Don’t say it!’

  ‘You can bugger off,’ he managed. ‘I’m not that easy to manipulate.’

  She spun on her heel and stalked out of the dungeon.

  Denny sagged; this was not going to be easy.

  * * *

  Cindy lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. She was in shock, incredulous and yet she believed him. She had seen the love in his eyes; it went fathoms deep.

  Apparently, a thousand years before, Finvarra had met and fell in love with a witch. Her name had been Alisande and she was apparently an ancestor, in direct line, of Cindy herself. But there was more to it than that.

  Cindy had heard the legends about the witches of the olden days passing on their souls to their descendants. A measure of immortality, the only one available to witches, who were basically human, but she had never believed it – until now.

  Alisande had given her life to seal the portal and trap the Faerie Queen. Cindy knew this was true. What she had experienced in her unconscious state on the motorway had not been a premonition; it had been a memory.

  That it had become inextricably mixed up with her present life was not so surprising, given that it come to her as a dream. The feelings she had felt as Alisande for Finvarra had translated into her current feelings for Denny. Or had they? What did she feel? And for whom?

  What was certain was that Alisande had made her tragic sacrifice for the same reasons as she, Cindy, had done in her dream. Queen Onagh had been horrendously jealous over Finvarra. She would never have let him go. She would have died rather. So Alisande had killed herself for his sake. And the Queen had now set her sights on Denny instead. Could that explain Cindy’s confusion? Was she just reacting to a thousand year old memory, or were her feelings for Denny real and unrelated?

  Finvarra had told her that, before she died, Alisande had told him she would be reborn in the body of a descendant. And the Queen had heard her. It had, no doubt, he said, seemed fitting to Onagh that she find this prophesied descendant to seal the stones once more. Both the soul and the blood of the same witch. It had a nice mythic ring to it. Faeries like mythic.

  Coming across Denny had been a mere bonus. She had been looking, as Finvarra had, for Cindy.

  And Jacky? It was just as he said. Finvarra had sent Jacky to watch over her in his absence. There was something he was not telling her here; she knew it. Something about Jacky or perhaps her own son. But she had not pushed for more. She had enough to deal with for the moment.

  Then there was the problem of Finvarra’s expectations. It seemed that he still loved … no adored her. Alisande had apparently captivated the Faerie King in a quite unexpected and wholly irreversible manner. And he had clearly expected that, when he found her, the relationship would just pick up where it had so abruptly left off.

  He had made it quite clear that he fully expected her to return his feelings. But a thousand years is a long time. He may not have forgotten, but she had.

  Cindy’s heart, for whatever reason, now belonged to someone else.

  Just as Denny’s did, the pragmatist inside told her.

  What a mess.

  Even as she wrestled with herself, she knew that she would take him. Better to be loved than be in love. Being in love hurt, but being loved had no real disadvantages and Finvarra’s adoration would provide balm to her wounded heart. Besides, she had a feeling that, if rejected, Finvarra was capable of being just as vindictive as his estranged wife. This was not something Cindy wanted to provoke.

  There was a crash and some loud cursing from downstairs. Jack was setting fire to things again.

  Cindy turned over on to her side and sighed. ‘And the fun never stops around here,’ she thought.

  ~ Chapter Twenty Four ~

  Denny tried to concentrate on Tamar’s face as the Queen tried her best to make him forget it. It was a battle of wills and the Queen was winning.

  She held all the cards, and she knew it. She even knew, and Denny was at a loss to explain this (until he realised that she was looking into his mind) that they had come back in time for her.

  ‘I’m flattered,’ she had sneered. ‘Now, who do you love?’

  ‘Tamar,’ said Denny dully, as if the word had no meaning for him anymore but was simply a repetition of a long forgotten idea.

  The Faerie Queen smiled. This was getting better, if only he would let go. She really did not want to hurt him like this. Well, all right, she had no real problem with hurting him as such, but it would have been better for her pride if she had not been forced into this.

  She looked at his face, all strained and pale and said gently. ‘It doesn’t have to be this way, just let go of her, let go of your stubbornness. Tell me you love me.’

  ‘He never will,’ came a voice from behind her.

  The Faerie Queen turned and snarled viscously.

  ‘He’s mine,’ Tamar snarled back.

  ‘I’ll never give him up,’ hissed the Queen. ‘I’ll die before I give him to you.’

  ‘I think,’ said Denny weakly, ‘that that just means that you both have the same aim in mind.’

  The Faerie Queen was disconcerted. Tamar was just standing there – smiling. It was unnerving; even Denny was unsure – and he knew her.

  ‘You can’t win,’ the Faerie Queen tried.
<
br />   Tamar just stood there smiling serenely.

  ‘I have all the power here.’

  More smiling.

  ‘I can wipe you out with a single thought,’

  Tamar stood as still as a statue. The smile on her face seemed fixed forever.

  ‘Don’t think I won’t do it.’ the Queen looked uncertainly at Denny who shrugged – a difficult feat when handcuffed to a pillar.

  ‘Stop smiling, this isn’t funny.’

  The smile widened. And Tamar spoke at last. ‘I’ve already won,’ she said.

  Denny opened his eyes wide. Either there was something that she had not told him, or this was a monstrous piece of bluff. Either way, it boded ill for the Queen. When Tamar bluffed, she usually did it with a stacked deck.

  ‘Look at you,’ Tamar sneered. ‘You can’t even get one wretched mortal (no offence darling) to say he loves you. You have no power here, or anywhere else, over us, go ahead do your worst. I’m asking you.’

  ‘What are you up to?’ wondered the Queen aloud.

  ‘Up to? I’m not up to anything. I never am.’

  ‘She never is,’ confirmed Denny obediently.

  ‘What is she up to?’ he wondered in the privacy of his own head (or so he thought).

  ‘I heard that,’ said the Queen.

  ‘Damn,’ thought Denny. ‘I forgot you were in here too.’

  But Tamar had not forgotten.

  It was all part of her plan.

  * * *

  Stiles was listening to the news with a despondent air. It was not the normal news (all normal media communications had been suspended under the tyrannical regime of the Faeries) but a pirate radio broadcast put together by a band of rebel humans. The news was depressing. But at least it was not Faerie propaganda.

  It had got beyond their control now; it was all too big. There were concentration camps according to the pirate radio jocks (although that might just be scaremongering, anti-propaganda they called it didn’t they?)

  Stiles had an uncanny sensation that he was actually in one of those Sci-Fi movies where frighteningly advanced aliens take over the planet. The only difference was that the Faeries were not actually eating people – as far as he knew. In those movies, the hero always finds the alien’s weakness and exploits it, therefore, saving the world to general rejoicing.

  Well, this was not a movie and Stiles was not a hero. He was past forty and got out of breath running too fast up the stairs. Or he had until recently. No, Stiles was just a copper (retired) and coppers arrested people, they did not save the world, at least, not by themselves. What he needed was Denny and Tamar. That was how it worked. He found the crime, and they kicked the criminal’s butt. He did not know where they were now, but he just had to hope that, wherever they were, that was what they were doing.

  He listened with half an ear to the rantings of the rebels on the radio. Secret rebel forces, anti-propaganda, fear and defiance. The sounds of a world under siege.

  He switched it off; it was not as if they could tell him anything that he did not already know.

  He glanced around the room and spotted something familiar. Not familiar to him exactly, but familiar to Leir.

  Now he just had to figure out what the hell it was.

  * * *

  Cindy came into the main hall; she had taken Jacky to his nursery for a nap and wanted someone to talk to. She found Stiles.

  ‘Oh,’ she said in surprise. ‘You fixed my lamp. I thought it had been thrown out.’

  ‘Lamp?’ said Stiles. ‘Is that what it is?’

  Cindy settled into an armchair and took it from him. ‘Yes, it’s a very old oil lamp,’ she said, ‘sort of a family heirloom.’

  ‘I thought you’d bought it,’ said Stiles.

  ‘Why would I buy something this ugly?’ laughed Cindy.

  ‘It is horrible,’ agreed Stiles. ‘Is it worth much?’

  ‘Practically priceless, according to my mother.’

  Stiles held out a hand. ‘May I?’

  She handed it back to him.

  Stiles stared at it intently, and Cindy shifted in her chair. ‘There’s something I …’ she began.

  ‘This isn’t a lamp,’ stated Stiles abruptly.’

  ‘No?’ said Cindy disinterestedly.

  ‘No,’ he said excitedly. ‘This is what we’ve been looking for. This is how we defeat the Faeries.’

  Cindy looked sceptical. ‘What,’ she said, ‘with my old lamp?’

  * * *

  The Faerie Queen hesitated, and Tamar struck. It was a powerful mental blow and the Queen actually staggered backwards.

  ‘Y-You can’t do that,’ she gasped as she regained her breath.

  ‘Anything you can do, I can do better,’ said Tamar tauntingly. ‘Don’t look at him,’ she ordered as the Faerie Queen turned uncertainly again to Denny. ‘He’s not going to help you. He’s with me. You have no friends here.’

  But the Faerie Queen, like all her kind, had no idea of friendship. The closest they can get to the idea is an enemy that you have not killed yet. Under these rules, Denny qualified. Therefore, she turned to him beseechingly.

  ‘No magic here,’ said Tamar, ‘except yours. Look at me.’

  The Faerie Queen found her gaze dragged unwillingly back to Tamar who watched her like a cat watching a mouse. Then she hit her again.

  The Faerie Queen sank to her knees. ‘So you might wonder how I am doing this?’ said Tamar. ‘How I even got in here against your will.’ She laughed cruelly. ‘Keep wondering.’

  ‘She’s using the Faerie magic,’ thought Denny and immediately regretted it.

  But the Faerie Queen gave no sign that she had noticed.

  Instead, she struck back. It was the last mistake she ever made.

  * * *

  ‘What are we going to do with it then, bash them over the head with it?’ Cindy examined the lamp critically. It just looked like a lamp to her. The wick was missing

  ‘Cindy, where did your family get this?’ said Stiles urgently.

  ‘I don’t know,’

  ‘I gave it to you – your ancestor rather,’ said Finvarra appearing in the room. ‘He bowed courteously to Stiles. ‘Leir,’ he said.

  ‘Finvarra,’ replied Stiles automatically. ‘One of the faithful, I seem to – to … remember?’ he finished uncertainly.

  ‘You gave it away?’ he said suddenly as if someone else was speaking through him. ‘I did not know that?’ he added thoughtfully.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he added aggressively – as Stiles, and he looked suspiciously from one to the other.

  Cindy and Finvarra looked at one another. ‘It’s a long story,’ said Cindy.

  ‘It is a strange thing to be faced with One’s god in these circumstances,’ said Finvarra grinning nervously.

  Cindy nodded. ‘Tell me about it,’ she said.

  ‘You get used to it,’ she added as Hecaté entered the room to see what was going on.

  *

  It was later.

  Stories had been told, explanations made. And now an awkward silence reigned.

  Stiles coughed and everyone jumped. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Well, er … moving on. Finvarra, since you now seem to be a part of this, that is to say …’

  ‘Tell us about the lamp,’ said Cindy. ‘Why did you give it to … er … Alisande? What is it?’

  Finvarra nodded towards Stiles. ‘He knows,’ he said.

  ‘It is a trap,’ said Stiles as three pairs of eyes focussed on him. ‘And we thought it had been lost forever.’

  ‘We?’ thought Cindy. ‘Oh blimey!’

  ‘It might as well have been,’ said Finvarra, ‘as far as we were concerned, since only you can use it.’

  ‘Yes, we built it long ago in accordance with an old arrangement. It was not a trap then, but rather a transportation device.’

  Stiles focussed and became one person again – himself. ‘Look, he said. ‘I think I should begin from the beginning, as it were.’ He looked
mockingly at them.

  ‘You lot don’t know the half of it,’ he said. He looked at Finvarra. ‘Not even you,’ he added. ‘You don’t even know who you really are.’

  * * *

  When the Faerie Queen struck out at Tamar with all her mind, Tamar reacted in a way that no one could have predicted. She did nothing.

  She did not have to.

  The Queen had been labouring, thanks to Denny’s errant thoughts, under the impression that Tamar was using Faerie magic. She was not. She just wanted the Queen to think she was.

  The Queen lashed out viciously and terminally at the source of the Faerie magic that was attacking her. She died instantly.

  A better way to go, as Tamar dryly observed, than she deserved.

  ‘I warned her,’ said Tamar undoing Denny’s shackles. ‘No one could say I didn’t warn her. I said, clear as a bell, there was no magic here but hers, but would she listen?’

  ‘She was fighting herself?’ said Denny.

  ‘Oh, yes, I just … helped her along.’

  ‘Goaded her you mean?’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘But you hit her with a mind blow, I saw you. I felt it?’

  Tamar raised her eyebrows. ‘Did I?’ she said. ‘Or did she just think I did?’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t know how. But she was expecting me to, so she hit out first and only hit herself. She was a bit confused I expect.’

  Tamar tapped her head expressively. ‘Psychology,’ she said enigmatically. ‘You have to understand your enemy. Now she didn’t understand me at all, she couldn’t imagine that I would come in here with nothing, it’s certainly not the sort of thing she would do herself.’

  ‘That’s true,’ muttered Denny.

  ‘All I had to do was make her edgy, get her worried. She did the rest.’

  ‘It was risky, though.’

  ‘Well, yes, a bit. But I had nothing else. No magic here.’

  ‘Except hers.’

  ‘Yes, how do you think I got in here? She was expecting me, that’s how. She knew I was coming and, since she thought I could get in anyway, she just let me in. Faerie magic, it’s all about messing with your head.’