by Trisha Telep
“Well, whatever you intend do with the dogs’ souls, the sword maker kept his end of the bargain, to my surprise. I will take his sons back to the human world.”
Kieran gave her another disgusted look. “I don’t bargain with Shifters.” He snapped his fingers. “You. Bring the Shifter’s get.”
Two attendants disappeared and returned holding the squirming Fae-cat cubs. The cubs were wrapped in nets, both attendants cursing as they dropped the bundles to the ground.
One of the attendants put his hands on his hips, panting. “They refuse to shift back to human form.”
Alanna knelt next to the net-wrapped cubs, keeping herself out of reach of their flailing claws. “Your father sends his love,” she whispered so the attendants wouldn’t hear. “He says to tell you he’s proud of you.”
Both small cats eyed her in suspicion, but they quieted.
Kieran strode to them. “Let us test the blade on them, shall we?”
Alanna rose quickly. “You said it wasn’t a killing blade.”
“No, but it will likely do some damage; they are small, and I imagine their souls will be . . . cute.”
Alanna tried to grab Kieran’s arm, but before she could, a huge Fae-cat tore through the clearing and leaped at him.
Niall . . .
He’d followed her. Alanna watched in panic as the men-at-arms and attendants fought him off. Kieran would kill Niall for certain.
Niall fought hard, but there were ten Fae to one Shifter and, after a few minutes of struggle, Niall was overwhelmed. The men-at-arms bound him in another net, and Niall went insane, fighting and clawing the ropes, foam and blood flecking his mouth.
Kieran approached Niall, rage on his face. “I’ll test the blade on its maker instead.”
Alanna clenched her hands in fear, but Niall raged and fought so hard through the net that Kieran couldn’t get near him. The men-at-arms advised their prince to abandon the attempt.
“Tell him to shift back,” Kieran shouted at Alanna. “He shifts back or I kill his cubs.”
“Why would he listen to me?” Alanna folded her arms. “I’m Fae. He was foul as foul can be the whole time. I hope you’re happy. Shifters disgust me.”
Niall roared, the sound filling the clearing. His children fought and yowled, encouraged by their father’s wrath.
“Fine,” Kieran said. “I’ll shoot the bastard, instead. Good target practice.”
Alanna touched his arm, trying to make her tone cool. “Why don’t you show the Shifter smith what the sword was made for?”
Kieran stopped, then a feral smile creased his face. “Sister, you will make a fine Fae yet. Watch, Shifter. Let me show you how I can reach into the past and hurt your kind in the present.”
The Prince walked to the closest mound, flicking back his cloak. He lifted the sword and drove it point down straight through the mound.
Light flashed up the length of the sword, and a shower of dirt shot from the grave. In the midst, a swirl of smoke changed into the misty shape of a Fae-wolf. Kieran laughed. He went to the next mound, and the next, releasing the essences of the Lupines, who floated insubstantially over the places where their bones had been buried.
Kieran flourished the sword, its silver blade flashing. “Behold the souls of those who slew my grandfather.” He turned to them, and opened his arms. “You will surrender to me, and do what I bid. You will kill the Shifter Feline and his cubs.”
The figures whirled around him. Alanna held her breath, fingers at her mouth. This was not what she’d expected to happen. She’d changed the spells so that the wolves would disperse, their souls free for all eternity, not bound. Instead they lingered, like wolves gathering around prey.
Prey . . .
“Kieran!” Alanna shouted. “Drop the sword. Run!”
Kieran ignored her. He swept the sword blade through the ghostlike creatures. “Obey, wraiths. Now you are mine.”
The wolves circled him, their eyes glowing yellow through the mist. As one, they attacked. Kieran cried out as the pack swept down on him in wild glee, and then he began to scream.
Niall shifted to human form, watching in amazement as the insubstantial wolves ripped into Kieran. They were mist and smoke – they shouldn’t be able to touch him – and yet the wolves rapidly tore the Prince apart. His pristine white cloak turned scarlet, and his men-at-arms and attendants fled.
The sword flew from Kieran’s hand, as though it propelled itself, and landed at Niall’s feet. Kieran screamed again. His bloody body turned in on itself and crumpled to dust.
The wolves padded in a circle around the Prince’s remains, then they lifted their heads and howled. It was a faint whisper of a howl, eerie and hollow, but it held a note of triumph.
The wolves shifted into a dozen men with broad shoulders and flowing hair, with the light blue eyes common to Lupines. They gave Niall and Alanna a collective look of acknowledgment, shifted back into wolves, and vanished. Wisps of smoke spun high into the sky and faded away.
Alanna caught up the sword, sliced swiftly through the net binding Niall, and helped him out of it. She moved to cut the ropes binding Piers and Marcus. Both cubs shifted into boys, running to Niall and throwing their arms around him. Tears streamed down Niall’s face as he knelt and gathered them in.
He looked over their heads at Alanna, who clenched the sword, her dark eyes wild. “Alanna, what happened? What did you do?”
Alanna was shaking, but she lifted her chin. “Kieran commanded me to make a soul-stealer, but I spelled the sword to be a soul releaser. Instead of binding the souls of those Shifters, driving it through their remains set them free.” She drew a breath, looking white and sick. “That’s all I meant to do. I did not realize the Shifters would decide to take their vengeance – I did not know they could.”
As horrifying as Kieran’s death had been Niall couldn’t be unhappy that the cruel Fae who’d abducted his children and would have murdered them was gone. “If they hadn’t, the Prince would have killed all of us.”
“Me, certainly,” Alanna said. “I hoped that while he attacked me, you and your cubs could get away.”
Niall shot to his feet. “That was your excellent plan? For me to run away while you died? ’Tis not what Shifters do for mates, lass.”
“It’s done, Niall. You must leave now. If they find you here, they will hold you responsible. Kieran’s cousin, his heir, had no love for him, but the Fae might demand he make an example of you.”
“And what is to say they won’t come after me into the human world?”
“Because most Fae had no love for Kieran, either.” Alanna smiled. “I doubt any of them will be willing to risk entering the human world again to hunt down a Shifter to avenge his name.”
“You cannot stay here, either, lass. They’ll blame you too.”
Alanna gave him a thoughtful look. “Perhaps, if you exchanged your steel knives for bronze ones, I could better serve you breakfast?”
Niall’s heart thumped fast and hard. He reached for her, pulled her into the circle of his family. “Love, you saved my boys, and me. You will stay with me as long as you damn well please.”
“Could you bring yourself to love a Fae?” she whispered.
“If that Fae was you, I think I could.”
Alanna pulled away and held the sword out to him. “This belongs to you.”
Niall closed his hand around the hilt. The sword felt right in his hand, as though he’d made it for himself to wield. “A soul-releaser?”
“I spelled it so that when a Shifter’s soul is in peril of being bound to its body or to another’s will, this sword will release it in peace. The Lupine souls that had been cursed to linger at their graves have at last gone to the Summerland.”
Niall studied the lines that ran down the blade and the hilt. “Why did you do this? Why help Shifters? You’re Fae.”
“You speak in ignorance, Niall. Most of the Fae are noble people. Some like Kieran, or our grandfather, or the one
s who made and enslaved the Shifters in the first place, were cruel – even we consider them cruel. Fae have long lives, and we now live remote from the human world, which makes us view things differently. Kieran’s plan was that of a child pulling wings from a fly. I could not let him succeed.”
The boys were looking at the sword too, with the bright gazes of lads fascinated by a pretty weapon. Niall saw long days ahead explaining to them why they couldn’t touch it.
“Why didn’t you tell me, lass?” he asked. “When we made the sword together, why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?”
“Because when I walked into your forge, I knew you hated Fae. Why should you help me? You are Shifter. And to be honest, I simply didn’t think you’d believe me.”
“And you’d have been right, love. I wouldn’t have.” Niall’s heart squeezed as he thought of the danger she’d walked into, taking the sword to the Fae realm and knowing her brother would discover what she’d done. “But you should have told me this morning what you intended.”
“I intended to have your children back to you before you woke. I never thought you’d be daft enough to follow me to Faerie.”
“Daft, am I?” Niall tilted her face to his. “I am, to love a Fae. Now let’s be going, before your brother’s keepers return for us.”
They went, through the mists and the standing stones, back to the freezing wind from the wild sea, the light dancing on the waves and the green of the Great Isle across the strait. The wind tossed Alanna’s hair, which streamed like gold.
They returned to the cottage, where Piers and Marcus ate ravenously and regaled them with their adventures with the enthusiasm of boys no longer afraid. Niall hung the sword point downwards on the wall, the blade gleaming softly.
“Keep it well,” Alanna said from his kitchen table. “And wield it well.”
“There are so many Shifters,” Niall replied. “I can’t be everywhere in the world waiting to see if a Shifter is in danger of losing his soul.”
“Then you will make more. We will forge enough swords so that every Shifter clan will have one, and then your work will be done. You aren’t the best Shifter sword maker alive for nothing.”
“I’m so glad you believe in me, love.”
Alanna rose from the table, stepped into his arms and kissed his lips. Piers and Marcus snickered.
“We’ll do it together,” Alanna said. “Every piece, every hammer stroke, we’ll forge them together.”
“Sounds like bliss, it does. Or a lot of bloody work.”
“But worth it?”
“Aye, lass.” Niall sank into her warmth, took her mouth in a long kiss, ignoring his sons’ gleeful laughter. Laughter meant love, and he’d take it. “’Twill be well worth it.”
Daughter of the Sea
Kathleen Givens
Western Shore, Ancient Ireland – 375 AD
When they were children, Muirin and Conlan, they played together, chasing through the forest, swimming in the crystal waters of the sea that formed the western edge of her father’s lands, climbing over the rocks that jutted out into the water and protected the hidden beach beneath her home. They roamed the nearby hills, explored every cave, and climbed every tree. Together. And never tired of each other’s company.
Her hair was dark. “Ebony” he called it. His was fair, the colour of oats at harvest time. “Golden,” she said, letting the silken strands slide through her fingers. His eyes were green, the colour of the leaves of the sacred oak tree. Hers were the blue of the deep sea and as full of mystery. He was of the earth, she told him. She was of the water, he would say.
She was a princess, the beloved only daughter of the King of the western shore. He was the son of a woodcutter who served her father. As the years passed they became aware of the differences in their lives, but disregarded them.
When they were grown, they pledged their troth by moonlight. On a summer night, beneath the spreading limbs of the ancient oak tree that crowned the cliff above the sea, with only wild creatures as witness, they agreed to marry. And kissed, a deep, sweet kiss that held the promise of passion to come. Then again, and again, parting to look into each other’s eyes and talk of the future. They swore to be together forever. And perhaps they would have been. Had her father not remarried.
The new Queen was much younger than her husband and wanted to change almost everything about his life. She changed his home, telling the King it was for the better when she removed everything that had ever belonged to Muirin’s mother. She sent most of those who had faithfully served the King for decades away, some without the coin they had earned, and replaced them with her own people. She pushed him to negotiate for more lands with nearby kings, suggesting that he threaten war, which he had never waged. She sent him to talk to the High King, instructing him to demand more territory, more power. When he travelled, she turned her attention to his daughter.
Her stepmother was horrified when she learned of the freedom Muirin had been given. Even more horrified when she discovered Muirin’s friendship with Conlan. “Daughter of the sea” her stepmother would call her derisively, for Muirin loved to spend her time near the water. As her stepmother exerted more and more influence over her life, Muirin sought refuge there more often.
She was no longer allowed to roam as she pleased. She could not leap atop her horse and ride headlong along the strand. She was to walk her horse sedately on the roads, riding palfrey instead of astride. She had always been a good student, read several languages, and wrote a fine hand, but now her schooling was increased, another language to learn, another passage to copy for the Queen.
Her hours were filled, but she did nothing with them. When her father travelled, Muirin was asked to attend her stepmother each day, to sit at the side of the room while the Queen spoke to the King’s people, dispensing harsh rulings and unfair verdicts, telling the people that Muirin was in agreement with her decisions, and that there would be no recourse. Muirin would shake her head to let them know she did not agree at all, but she could not change the Queen’s edicts.
Her only escape was in the early evening, when the Queen would receive her friends and dismiss Muirin with a wave of her hand. Muirin would rush to the sea then, to sit and pray for her father’s quick return.
Most evenings Conlan would find her there, perched on a rock high above the waves, her knees pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, staring over the water with a forlorn expression. He would tease her, make funny faces, or tell her absurd stories until he got her to smile again.
Until one day.
That evening, when he saw her wiping away the tears on her cheeks, he watched her for a moment, his heart full of love for her, and sorrow for her sorrow. He knew what she would tell him. He’d heard it in the village. Her father was not visiting the High King. He was searching for a husband for Muirin.
It was Muirin’s stepmother who was behind it, of course. Few doubted that it was the older woman’s jealously that had prompted the suggestion, for Muirin had blossomed into a rare beauty. The King had left some time ago without revealing his purpose, off to visit all the other kingdoms in the west of Ireland. He would travel from Donegal to Dingle, from Sligo to Kinsale, searching for a man who would be the perfect match for his daughter.
Her husband must be tall, Conlan had heard. And strong. A warrior, a hero the likes of which no one had seen since the days of Cuchulainn. And handsome – a man who would give Muirin daughters as beautiful as she. He must come from a royal family, and have great wealth, for the King wanted his daughter to be protected and have the finest of things.
Conlan feared he would lose Muirin to another, and his heart was sore. He was not a prince. He had no riches to share. He thought of all he might do to win her, the things he might say to convince her father to let them marry as they had planned. He could not change his heritage, could not change his father from a woodcutter to a king, but Conlan was already tall. And strong. And a fine warrior, for had he not defeated
every challenger at the King’s last gathering? He could work hard to acquire coin. He was most willing to do so every day of his life if it meant that Muirin would share those years with him.
She turned to see him then, holding out her arms, and he ran to pull her into his embrace.
“Oh, Conlan!” she cried. “They mean to tear us apart!”
“I know, I know,” he said, wrapping his arms tighter around her. “I could not bear to see you with another. I would rather lie under the ground than lose you.”
“Do not say such a thing!” she said, looking up into his eyes. “Never say such a thing, my love. I could not bear it if anything happened to you. There is only one thing we can do.”
“Anything, Muirin! I will do anything you ask.”
“Marry me. This night. Here, under the very oak where we pledged our troth. Then make love to me, again and again. If I am already wed, I cannot marry another.”
He smoothed back the hair from her face. “I am not a prince. I have no wealth, only my own hands to earn our way. I cannot give you what your father wants you to have.”
“My father wants me to be happy, I know he does. It is only her doing that has him off looking for a husband for me. The man I want is here, before me. Please, Conlan! We are promised to each other. Do not tell me now that you regret that!”
“Never.” He kissed her forehead. Then her cheek, then her mouth, showing her with his kisses how full of love for her his heart was.
She pulled back from him with a brilliant smile. “Then go now, love. Meet me this night, when the moon will be full. And we will become one.”
“And face the future together.”
She nodded, her face radiant. “And face the future together.”
They parted then, throwing looks at each other over their shoulders as they walked away, he to his father’s small whitewashed cottage, she to her father’s shining castle on the hill.
She told only one person: her nurse. Who told only one person: the cook. Who told only one person: the groom. Who told the Queen.
