by Tom Deitz
Liz cleared her throat. “Okay, then, next problem is how to get him out.”
“The same way they got him in,” Fionchadd replied. “They attacked Lugh where he had chosen to be blind; we attack them the same way.”
LaWanda frowned. “What you mean, Faery boy?”
“That the Sons will be expecting any response to come from Nuada, the remains of Lugh’s guard, and the old elite. They will not be expecting mortals any more than Lugh was. Certainly not mortal men with…iron.”
“Guns,” Scott crowed. “Of course!”
“And if Elyyoth’s right,” Myra mused, “they’re faster than even Faery reflexes, never mind Faery weapons. And do more damage, of course.”
A general muttering coalesced into a call for quiet from David. He looked first at Aife, then at Fionchadd. Gnawed his lip. “That means we’d have to…kill people?”
“The price of war,” the Faery shrugged. “The Sons accept it. You should as well.”
“The Sons are immortal!” Aikin flared. “We don’t have that luxury.”
“It is what you were designed for,” Elyyoth countered, speaking for the first time. “Like mayflies.”
“Okay,” David growled. “We’ll save that for later. Next question is: who is we? I mean, we can’t all go.”
“Right,” Liz agreed, looking back at her notes. “Way I figure, we oughta send as small a group as we can: harder to detect, if nothing else. Given that, we need as wide a range of skills as possible. Which means mortals and Faeries. Aife, for starters, since she knows the way to the Iron Dungeon. And—”
“Me,” Fionchadd broke in. “You have not decided how to get in and out, but I have an answer to that.”
“The ship!” Brock yipped from where he’d been drowsing in the corner. “Of course!”
Fionchadd nodded ruefully, then noted the puzzled looks on more than one set of faces. “Suffice it to say I have a means to take us straight there and back, if affairs proceed optimally.”
“You mean no overland treks, stealthing, and hiding?” From Aikin, who sounded at once disappointed and relieved. “Aye.” Then, to Liz, “Go on.”
“Okay,” she continued. “We send Finno and Aife, for Faery lore and magic. But it’d be good to send someone from another magic tradition, just in case.”
David elbowed Calvin in the ribs. “You up for it, Red Man?”
Calvin started. “Actually…I’ve got an errand in Carolina—some folks I need to check on. And another potential ally—if that’s okay.”
David had started to ask who when Brock spoke up from his corner. “I’ll go—and before you say no, remember who got you out of the Holes in the Seas!”
“Boy’s got a point,” Myra conceded. “We should be looking at skill and competency only, not species, sex, or age.”
David rolled his eyes and almost gnawed his pencil in two, but went on. “In any event, the rest of the folks need to be our best fighters.”
Aikin’s eyes narrowed. “Fighters? Or marksmen?”
“Both, ideally.” David surveyed the room. “Any volunteers?”
“Besides me and you?” Aikin shot back instantly.
“I’d love to go,” Sandy said. “But with school and all, I absolutely can’t. Not within your time frame.”
“I…can,” Myra hedged. “But I’d rather not.”
“And you can forget about Piper,” LaWanda snapped. “But I’ll go.”
David started. “You?”
“Can shoot with the best of ’em, white boy. ’Sides, I’ve got two or three dozen bones to pick over there. And,” she added for effect, “don’t forget my mojo.”
“Whatever,” David mumbled, blushing. “Alec, you don’t have to tell me this isn’t your game. Liz…I know you want to come, but maybe not this time.”
Liz nudged Alec. “Actually, we’ve…uh…got graduation.”
“Which you’d best attend,” Dale agreed. “Dave’s got a good excuse, and we all know what it is. But your folks and Alec’s—well, this ain’t the time to be explainin’ to them ’bout Faerie and all. We’ll cover for Davy if either of ’em calls. Say he’s sick or something.”
“Makes sense,” David agreed sadly. “But back to the plan: it’s me and Aik and LaWanda for armed support? Brock, can you shoot at all?”
“A…little.”
“I’ll go,” Dale volunteered.
“The hell you will!” JoAnne snapped. “What’re you thinkin’ about, old man? I can shoot as good as you!”
“Hush, woman,” Big Billy rumbled in turn. “But she’s right. More to the point, though, somebody who knows about all this shit needs to stay here and keep an eye on the Cove.”
JoAnne glared at him. “If you’re thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’…”
“I’m gonna go,” Big Billy stated firmly. “I’ve let the boy fight my fights too long, and this is my fight. I can shoot good as anybody here—’cept Davy and Aikin, I reckon. And I’m a-goin’ to go!”
David took a deep, troubled breath and once more surveyed the room. “Looks like a good solid core. Anybody else?”
Alec took a deep breath. “So what do the rest of us do?”
“Yeah,” Little Billy chimed in. “What about me?”
“You stay here,” David told him firmly. “And you watch him like a hawk, Ma, ’cause this is just too dangerous to have him chasin’ around. Dale, I’d love to have you, but Pa’s right; you need to stay here and keep things coordinated. Provide a bolt-hole like you’ve been doin’. Explain what you can to…anybody who needs to know.”
“I’ll do ’er,” Dale affirmed.
“And I have to stay here, dammit!” Scott spat. “Covert operations against Mystic Mountain and all that. Damage in the guise of damage control.”
“As for me,” Myra sighed, “much as I hate to say it, I have got to get back to Athens for a couple of days.” She looked at Piper, who hadn’t said a word throughout the entire discussion. Poor guy, David thought. He hates this sort of thing even worse than Alec. Still, this was a crisis situation; they needed people they could count on, not someone who’d curl up and go catatonic when the shit hit the famous fan.
David eyed Alec thoughtfully. “Uh, roomie, while you’re in Athens, could you pick up a couple of things for me?”
“What?” Alec asked dumbly, even as Liz’s face woke with recognition. “All the magic whatsis we’ve got left, right?”
David nodded. “From here on out, we’d better bring in the whole arsenal—every single thing any of us have that’s come from some other place.” He glanced at Calvin. “That means all your gear from Galunlati, too. Uktena scales, war clubs, everything.”
“I’m way ahead of you,” Cal laughed. “That’s one of my reasons for headin’ to Carolina.”
David studied Myra thoughtfully. “Any chance you could get down there and back before we leave? Or—Crap!” He looked at Fionchadd. “What kind of time frame are we on, anyway?”
“We must conclude everything before the Feast of Lugh.”
“Which is when?” LaWanda wondered.
“July 31,” David supplied automatically. “Folks nowadays call it Lughnasadh, if they call it anything.”
“A month and change, then,” Sandy mused. “That should buy us a little time.”
“If we don’t lose a bunch swappin’ Worlds,” Calvin retorted. “Things seem to be really screwy here versus there.”
“That variance is passing,” Fionchadd assured him. “But do not forget the Sons may act against this place at any time. And never doubt that they will act.”
“Speaking of which,” Aikin broke in. “Exactly what kind of heat should we be packin’?”
“Shotguns,” Big Billy offered instantly. “Better range, and you do maximum damage with minimum effort. Maybe some handguns for close-in stuff, plus they ain’t as bulky. Got a bunch of both,” he added. “One of each kind for everybody in the family: eight right there.”
“I’ve got a
couple, too,” Aikin confirmed. “Could probably scrounge up one-two more.”
“Me, too,” Dale chimed in. “Plus my old .45 and Hattie’s derringer.”
“So what about this?” David began. “Everybody carries something, whether they can shoot or not, and we try to bring the newbies up to speed in transit. Everybody who can shoot takes a shotgun and something smaller as a spare, and we take all the ammo we can physically carry.”
“Knives, too,” Fionchadd suggested. “Steel ones, just in case.”
“What about clothes?”
“Faery garb would attract the least attention,” the youth replied. “There should be enough on the ship. Or we could englamour you, but that would take Power we might need elsewhere, and would be detectable by the skilled among my folk. The best approach would be to try to pass as Sidhe with mortal prisoners until we reach our goal.”
“How many guards you lookin’ for?” Aikin wondered.
Aife shrugged. “Not many, if luck favors us, for the Sons of Ailill are not many, only very dedicated and organized. They will have more than one agenda afoot.”
“What about the mortals they took over?”
Another shrug. “They should pose little trouble. Most will have been returned to this World or else have been ensorcelled, for it takes much Power to control another mind, even a mortal one.”
“Thanks a lot!” Calvin muttered.
“Truth is truth,” Aife shot back.
Silence ensued, as though everyone had chosen that moment to ponder the enormity of their undertaking. God knew David had little enough to say, in spite of the fact that he still had a day’s worth of questions, contingencies, and stratagems to bring up. Never mind the fact that he was tired to the bone. When had he slept, anyway? Back on the boat, between their arrival in the seas of Faerie and their return to the Oconee at Whitehall: twelve hours, maybe? Plus a catnap on the way up from Athens. Shoot, he was barely back from one fool’s errand and here he went on another! “Well,” he yawned finally, rising, and realizing to his surprise that he was sore, “what I suggest is that everybody who’s goin’ to Faerie get fed, clean up, and grab some shut-eye if you can; and everybody else chase down as many bangy-things as they can and meet back here in…an hour.” He glanced at Aikin. “That work for you?”
“Make it one-point-five,” Aikin countered. “I have gotta get a shower, but I can do that over at the folks’ place. Guns’re over there anyway.”
Calvin laid a hand on David’s shoulder. “And, Dave, my man, I hate to say this, but now that the sun’s out, might be a good time for me to make tracks—’less you want me to hang around.”
“It’s cool,” David grunted, reaching over to give him a rough half-hug. “Just take care of yourself and give my regards to…whoever.”
“Right,” Calvin affirmed, then made the rest of his goodbyes and departed.
“So we’re basically lookin’ at noon?” David asked Fionchadd.
“Aye,” the Faery murmured, then stared at Elyyoth warily. “And what of you? What would you do in all this?”
The guardsman sighed wearily—like a mortal, David thought. “It is my duty to guard, to fight. But I am tired, so very tired…”
“Your strength will return soon enough,” Fionchadd assured him. “And if your duty is to guard, then guard you shall. It is likely the Sons, or others of their ilk, know already what transpires here. There may be attacks on this house in our absence. Such protection as you can afford, by weapon or Power, you should provide these folk. I would put on the stuff of this World, however.”
Elyyoth simply nodded.
David slumped down in the nearest chair. God, but he was fried! Too fried for any of this, frankly. He started to speak, but Fionchadd was already kneeling beside him. “Sorry, man,” David mumbled. “Just need to grab some Zs.”
“A bath,” Liz corrected. “You’re starting to smell a little ripe.”
David sniffed an armpit. “And then a nap.”
“There will be time to sleep on the journey,” Fionchadd informed him curtly. “Of that you may be certain.”
“Just hope we wake up again,” Aikin called from the door, then suddenly looked alarmed. “Oh, crap, I don’t have my car. Will somebody…?”
“Take mine,” JoAnne hollered, fishing in her pocket for the keys to her latest Crown Vic. “Not your style, but some of us got taste.”
Aikin caught the keys on the fly and grinned. “And some of us got brains.”
David giggled like a fool as his mother chased his buddy out the door, swearing like a sailor in mock anger as they fought the latest skirmish in the lesser but more tenured war between Ford and Chevy.
“Bath’s clear,” Alec prompted. “You go, then Brock.”
“I’ll chase down the guns and ammo,” Big Billy rumbled.
“And I’ll—” Little Billy began.
“—stay out of the way,” his mother finished for him.
“Come…child,” said Elyyoth the Faery. “I will show you a wonder.”
David wondered whose smile was brighter: this odd silent refugee warrior, or his voluble younger brother.
“I’ll call the rest of the Gang,” Liz volunteered. “Figured they’d at least like to see you off. Plus, they really do need to know what’s going on.”
And then Alec dragged David to his feet, hustled him down the hall, stuffed him into the bathroom, and closed the door.
Chapter III: Weapons Practice
(Sullivan Cove, Georgia—Friday, June 27—noonish)
“So let me get this straight,” JoAnne Sullivan said stiffly. “You really have no idea when you’ll be back?” She was addressing David, but her eyes were averted, fixed firmly on the rocky shingle beach of Langford Lake. Which meant she was having a hard time staving off tears and didn’t want anyone to notice. David hated to see her this way. He wasn’t a father—yet, and maybe never—but he’d seen people he cared about march knowingly into situations from which they had no guarantee they’d return. This was the same. The lapping of the waves against the shore made a counterpoint to her breathing, as though the world echoed her regret.
He reached out to give her a cursory hug, which she returned with surprising vigor. “No idea,” he murmured. “Sorry. Time runs screwy over there. It shouldn’t take long—you might get home and find us sittin’ there—but there’s no way to be sure.” He paused, shifted his weight, looked around at his friends for support that didn’t seem forthcoming. “Plus, if things go like they’re supposed to, we’ll have Lugh in tow, and there’s no tellin’ what he’ll want to do once we spring him—whether he’ll try to retake the palace then, and if so, whether he’ll want us around for that, or whether he’ll hie himself off somewhere to lick his wounds and regroup, or what.” Another, more uneasy pause. “Shoot, there’s even some chance we might have to bring him back here. I hope not, and I’ll try to keep his stay short if that happens—but be prepared.”
JoAnne ruffled Little Billy’s hair. David snared his no-longer-so-little brother—he was a sturdy eleven and change—and embraced him roughly. “Take care of our ma,” he admonished. “Dale’s gonna be there, and Elyyoth, but you’re the man of the house.”
Little Billy stood up straighter, which put him not far off eye level with David. “I’ll fight for you, Dave,” he said solemnly, but his blue eyes were bright with tears. “I’ll fight for whatever I have to.”
“You and me both,” David sighed.
Fionchadd cleared his throat. David grunted a reply and rejoined the group waiting with the Faery youth at the shore. And shivered. Not a week had passed since a similar crew had met here, a quarter mile south of the incipient construction at what he and his friends called B.A. Beach (in memory of a particularly embarrassing fall that had occurred there) to embark on what had proved to be a fruitless mission to enlist the aid of Fionchadd’s Powersmith kin. And here he was again, on the vanguard of a similar mission, though to a far more accessible and familiar place, and he
was scared all but shitless. Maybe it was the fact that there was a good chance there’d be fighting, a chance he or someone he knew—his father, even—could be killed. Or perhaps it was simply that Big Billy would be present: his first foray into Faerie.
David didn’t know what he thought about that. His pa was about as earthbound as you could get: narrow-minded, almost a bigot. But he loved his family and his land. And he was proud of his children, David had no doubt. Still, the natural order of things made David defer to him—yet he, David Kevin Sullivan, was effectively in charge of this mission. Would they find themselves contesting control at some crucial juncture? Or defending kin at the expense of a higher goal?
No! He wouldn’t think about that now. He’d think about how pretty this little out-of-the-way cove was, where the mountains pointed into the lake in pine-gloved fingers that made a vee around a quiet backwater where stone shelves sat on the porch of the Enotah National Forest. He’d think about how this was what he was fighting for: the land itself. His land, and his family’s, for nigh onto ten generations.
But it was Calvin’s land, too, for far longer; and for a moment he wished his Cherokee friend was here. The others—Liz’s folks had been here a fair spell, and Scott was a mountain boy, though from Tennessee. But Alec’s parents had moved here to teach at MacTyrie Junior College five years after their son was born; and Aikin was also technically an outlander, having arrived in MacTyrie at ten; while Darrell and Gary (who had joined them to see them off, with the promise of a briefing from Myra afterward) had appeared in their teens, when Myra was already in college. It wasn’t the same for any of them. As for Piper and LaWanda, they were nice folks, but they were flatlanders.
Yet LaWanda was going anyway, and he had to admire her for that: how a black woman from South Georgia would put herself on the line for residents of what was essentially an all-white county in a state that had made slaves of her ancestors. “People gotta be free,” she’d said. “Lugh’s people, and he’s gotta be free. You’re people, and folks are comin’ down on you, and you gotta be free, too.”
David blinked, having lapsed into one of those fits of dazed reverie that caught him now and then. He was suddenly aware of eyes looking at him—many eyes: those who were going, and those who’d stay behind. Calvin and Sandy had already departed. Alec, Liz, Piper, and Myra were packed and ready to hit the road. Dale and David’s ma and brother would watch to the end, as would Scott and Elyyoth—who looked god-awful strange in a set of David’s sweats that fit fairly well at waist and shoulders but were far too short at the cuffs.
