by Natalie Grey
I kept walking, rolling my eyes.
“And you’re also not going to tell me why you’re not going back to the real world?”
Those words slid right between my ribs. He’d noticed, he’d seen that I wasn’t trying to get back home.
Because what was there for me? Just the wreckage of the hall and an enemy I had no idea how to defeat. I wasn’t quite sure the real world would help me put together a sword made of sunlight again. Even if it did, I had very nearly died in the last attempt. One miss, one step in the wrong direction, and I was toast.
I wasn’t going back because I had nothing to go back to. And in the meantime….
I had no allies. The Coimeail, preoccupied with some very bad press and the fact that the Acadamh was close to falling apart, were not going to spare resources to fight the same thing that had brought down the entire druidic high council. The monarchists were too scattered and too unaccustomed to fighting the same enemy all at once to respond in any timely fashion—even if they were willing to. And Fordwin Delaney hadn’t bestirred himself even when he thought Terric was coming up with a plan to kill all strong sorcerers. He wouldn’t help with this.
I stopped. A thought was taking shape in my head, and it was pretty much the last thought I wanted to have right now. Unfortunately, it seemed to be true.
Philip was the only person at present who might even possibly end up on my side.
This was not my day.
I turned to look at him, and he raised an eyebrow at me.
“All right,” I said. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you what’s going on.”
He looked justifiably wary, which soothed my feelings somewhat. He should look wary. I wasn’t in any kind of mood to deal with bullshit right now.
At length, he nodded.
I walked back toward him slowly, weighing the sentences in my head before I allowed them past my lips to make sure I didn’t spill more secrets than I intended.
“I was allowed to take part in a trial by which prospective druids gain the right to be trained,” I told him. “That’s why I’m wearing this, it’s not actually anything scandalous or strange.”
“It’s partly see-through,” Philip pointed out. His smile died, however, at my look.
“It took place in another world, and by the time I returned, the hall was held under a spell, massively powerful. As far as I know, everyone in it is fighting or dead—but the hall, itself, is frozen in time and guarded by a serpent made of stone and metal and death magic.”
Philip stared at me, slack-jawed. He’d expected something salacious, I could tell. This had come entirely out of left field for him, but then again, it had for me as well.
I tilted my head to the side. “So. You wanted to know, now you do.”
To his credit, Philip had always been one for political wrangling. When he opened his mouth, his tone was thoughtful and his eyes were faraway. “Who would attack the druids?” he asked softly. “Who would want them hurt?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Probably not quite as good.” His blue eyes were still mostly occupied with his thoughts as he focused on me. “You were there at the hall before the trial, weren’t you? And you traveled with Daiman. You might well have seen something to tell you who’s doing this.”
I supposed I did know some things. “They were holding a conclave of their own, to vote on replacing Taliesen. The Chief Druid,” I added.
“He did it,” Philip said promptly.
I rolled my eyes. “No, he didn’t.”
“All right, give me a better theory.” He rested his forehead on the bars as he stared me down.
“I don’t have a theory!”
“Okay, give me anything. Literally, anything to work with.” He twitched his fingers to tell me to keep talking.
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.
“You don’t even have a theory,” he told me. “I’ve gotten your farther along than you were. Spit on it if you want, but you’re only hurting yourself.”
I considered. “All right. Over the past five or six centuries, there have only been two Chief Druids—Taliesen and Morgana. Before that, people apparently didn’t hold the post for long. There aren’t regular elections, they’re just held when there’s a challenge. Taliesen held the post for a while, Morgana challenged him and took over, and then there was a challenge by someone other than Taliesen, but he was elected and he’s ruled for about three hundred years.”
“How does Morgana feel about that?”
“Hard to say.” I thought back to her smiling and laughing with Taliesen. “I saw her arguing with the other … I don’t know, big time advisor person. They were both seated beside the throne at the feast, but before they were there, they were arguing about the election.”
Philip looked intrigued.
“She talked about Farbod—that’s the other one—overturning the order of things. This challenge has no challenger, you see. People just think Taliesen has ruled for too long.”
“Now we have something to work with,” Philip said. His tone was one of lazy interest. “So Farbod may be the one who challenged Taliesen.”
“As far as I know, yes. He was creepy about it. He said….” I tried to think back. “He was talking about how he was sure people would do what was in ‘their best interest.’ But … in the way someone says it when they’re blackmailing you.”
“So Farbod may have made a challenge to Taliesen, which he intended to enforce with threats of violence—but Morgana might also have a grievance.” Philip moved his head side to side as he thought. “And we don’t know anything more about her?”
“She’s Morgan Le Fay, for one thing.”
“No!” He seemed quite enchanted by the idea. “What’s she like?”
“I … don’t know. Strange.” I thought of her instructing me for the rite, and of the not-so-kind look in her eyes as the rite claimed me. “Oh! She told Farbod that the conclave to replace her was fabricated, that the reasons weren’t good reasons to replace her.”
Philip gave me a look, “Everyone in power thinks that.”
“You said she might have a grievance, I was just giving you information.”
“True, true.” He heaved a sigh. “It could have been either of them, then. Or someone else. What did your beloved Hunter have to say about it all when you mentioned the argument?”
“I didn’t tell him about it.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I was trying not to get involved in other people’s drama.”
“What a boring way to live. Well, then what did he say about the conclave?” His gaze sharpened when he saw the look on my face. “Oh, come now. You can tell me. I warn you, though, I’ll be absolutely delighted if he’s the one who went crazy and blew the place up.”
“Daiman would never do that.”
“Are you so sure?” His gaze was far too knowing. “Most people aren’t so far from something like that.”
“This was planned,” I said dangerously. “The magic that’s holding the hall where it is, it’s strong. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“I have.” His gaze reminded me of the orbs I had once built, the glass that carried the Black Plague into the courts of Europe.
I swallowed hard. “Well, it’s on that scale, anyway. A long-term plan. Reinforced by runes. Not a spur-of-the-moment spell at all—though possibly a defense of some sort.”
“Mmm.” Philip considered this. “So, what are you going to do?”
“What am I going to do?” I stared at him. “We’re going to figure out what’s going on and get everyone in that hall out alive.”
Philip threw back his head and laughed. It was some of the most genuine mirth I had ever seen from him. He clutched at his belly and bent over, grasping the bars of the cage with his other hand, and when he finally straightened up, he wiped at his eyes.
“Ah, I do love you, Nicola.”
I raised an eyebrow.
> “Why on earth would I help you?” Philip stared me down. “I’m your captive. I finally have you separated from that tiresome druid of yours who kept pouring poison in your ear. The Acadamh is in ruins, Terric is clearly either dead or captured—don’t give me that look, I know what he was working on. If the spell had been cast, you’d be dead. You took him down.” He shrugged. “So tell me why, when the world I want is so very close, I should help you bring back my rival.”
He thought he had an ironclad argument.
Unfortunately for him, he’d forgotten two things. The first was how stubborn I was.
The second was that I was a gigantic bitch.
I walked up to the edge of the bars and smiled sweetly up at him.
“You know the first thing I built into this cage?” I told him. “It won’t fail if you kill me. You like to pretend you love me more than anything in the world, but I knew that sooner or later you’d try to off me to get out. It won’t work. If I die? You’re stuck in here forever.”
Philip stared at me. “So?” he asked finally.
“So I’m going to attack that hall,” I told him. “I’m going to get Daiman out … or I’m going to die trying. So you have a choice, Philip. You can do your best to make sure I get out of that experience alive, leaving you with the hope that I’ll let you out of this cage someday.” I let my voice go cold as winter. “…Or you can let me do this alone, knowing that if I die, that’s it for you—and if I live, I’ll remember what you did.”
His face had gone pale.
“I’ll let you think about it, shall I?” I turned and started to walk away.
“Nicola!”
I didn’t stop. I walked, hardly paying attention to his calls, until I knew I was a few hundred yards from the ruins of the hall. I let Philip watch me as I faded out of the domhan fior to leave him alone with his thoughts.
And then I sat down under a tree at the top of one of the hills and stared down at my target.
The serpent was standing guard against my return. It didn’t seem to have sensed me as I re-emerged into the world. It flew through the air in tight circles around the ruins of the hall, its mechanical head swinging this way and that suspiciously.
For all I knew, it didn’t need any sleep or food. It could stay where it was forever, a sentinel of massive power.
I leaned back against the tree and considered. I was going to have to defeat that thing first. Then I’d take down the hall.
“I’m coming for you, Daiman,” I whispered out loud. I stared at the hall, where he was frozen in time. He couldn’t hear me, he couldn’t sense me. But I reached out to him anyway, wishing against all reason that he would hear me somehow. “I’m going to get you out of this.”
Chapter Fifteen
I woke with a jerk, and proceeded to nearly have heart failure.
I was being watched.
“Be still,” a woman’s voice said, somewhat annoyed. “I mean you no harm.”
I narrowed my eyes into the darkness. All I could see was a figure in a cloak, standing some ways away in the shadow of the tree. The moonlight that fell outside our little haven didn’t touch her at all, and she stood with unusual stillness.
I was put in mind of a man I had known once, the chief spymaster to a king. He would sit so quietly in the throne room that one might forget him entirely—while he saw and heard everything.
It paid to be wary of people who were very still. I waited and watched, but she did not move any further.
“Who are you?” I asked at last. And then, nervously: “Morgana?”
If Morgan Le Fay had managed not to get caught in this disaster, what did that say?
There was a snort. “I am not Morgana. Far from it.”
“Mmm.” I didn’t know quite what to make of that, so noncommittal noises seemed like my best bet. I considered standing up, and then decided to stay where I was. Sitting while others stood was the way royalty behaved.
I arranged myself against the tree and waited for the newcomer to say something else, surreptitiously scanning the area for anyone else.
“You seek to save the hall,” the woman said at length. “Or am I mistaken?”
I said nothing, only looked at her.
“I saw you run to it,” the woman told me. “Stay silent all you wish, but I am not blind. You stare at it like a puzzle to be solved.”
“From the fact that you haven’t killed me yet, can I assume you want the same thing?” I let power pool in my palms. If she attacked, I would be ready.
“More or less.”
“Not ‘more or less.’ What do you want?” I hadn’t come here to mince words with a shadow in a cloak. “And again—who are you?”
“You may call me Bronach,” the woman said, after a pause. “The name is not important, but I gather you would like to have one.”
“I don’t want a name, I want to know who you are.” I was beginning to get seriously annoyed. “Were you a druid of those halls?”
“Once, yes.”
“How did you escape the—wait, what do you mean, once?”
“I was….” The voice broke off in what seemed to be sudden pain, and the figure winced. “I have not been able to be amongst my kind for a very long time,” she said, a few moments later. Her voice was still weak, and her breathing shallow and harsh. “I can say no more.”
I got the sense that this was meant literally, and I blinked at her. For the first time, it seemed as if her obtuse answers might not be due to strategy so much as necessity.
A curse, perhaps? A binding? I had never seen such a thing laid on a human. That was old magic, from the fairy tales and the stories of Merlin and his adversaries. If it had ever been real, I would bet the reality had been a mere shadow of the truth.
So what kept her back?
“So—”
My voice broke off suddenly as I remembered Daiman’s voice.
It was so real, Nicky, it was like she was standing right here on this hill beckoning you away, and there was a terrible magic about her. I was so afraid for you.
And had I not caught a glimpse of her before? In the forest, with the nymphs?
“You were there in the forest,” I told her. I did not mention the rest of it. Not yet. If Daiman had been correct, that information was the only advantage I had.
“Briefly.” She did not deny it. “It had been a long time since I had seen another of my kind.”
So she was human, then. Allegedly. “You could have warned me about the nymphs, you know.”
A noise of actual amusement escaped her at that. “I suppose I could have. I didn’t know enough about you to be sure if I should speak to you, however.”
I supposed that was fair enough.
“In any case,” the woman added, “I wanted to see how you fared on your own—and it seems you’re neither stupid, nor weak. That is good.”
I raised an eyebrow. “If you think that’s good, then you’re assuming we’re not enemies, I take it.”
“Yes.” She drew the cloak tighter around herself. Other than her wince, it was the first real movement I’d seen from her. “In fact, I hope we will be allies.”
There it was. I crossed my arms. “Of course you do.”
“I don’t see why this should disturb you.” She sounded annoyed again. “Both of us have things we need, and those things we need … are inside that hall. Undoing the spell that holds it all is good for both of us.”
“So you tell me. But you have to admit, I’d be an utter fool to trust you.”
“You can trust me.”
“Oh, well that changes everything.” I gave her a look. “As you mentioned, I am not stupid. I was not born even close to yesterday. I have survived a great deal, and part of the way I have done so is not to trust every word that comes out of a stranger’s mouth.”
The woman stared at me for a long moment.
“As it turns out, I am not able to lie to you,” she said finally. From the bitterness in her voice, the sentiment co
uld only be true.
“So what do you want?” I asked.
“To be back among my own kind.” She chose the words carefully.
Carefully enough to remind me that there was a very big difference between not lying, and telling the truth.
“And what do you want me to do?”
“Defeat the serpent and undo the wards that keep me from the hall.” That answer, at least, was prompt.
“Do you have a plan for how to do that?”
“Somewhat. At any rate, it is more manageable with two magic users than one … though I have questions as to why a sorceress is dressed in the robes of the druid rite.”
The curiosity in her voice was palpable.
“Given that your curiosity wasn’t enough to keep you from seeking me as an ally, I think they can wait.” I crossed my arms and looked at her. “I wonder, then—what should I ask of you in return?”
She was silent.
It should have been nothing, but as I told her, I hadn’t survived this long without attempts on my life. I sensed a sudden caginess in her manner.
“What?” I demanded. My eyes narrowed. “What?”
She said nothing. She might not be able to lie, but the woman was plenty able to keep secrets. I tried to tamp down my anger long enough to formulate a question she couldn’t dodge around.
“When I have helped you get into the wall by defeating the serpent and undoing the wards, will you believe that you are in my debt?”
She hesitated, but an answer seemed to be dragged from her. “No.”
Some alliance this was, and she wasn’t even telling me everything. “There’s more.”
She said nothing, turning her head away, and I felt something break inside me.
“Either you’re honest with me, or we’re done here. Given the things you said, I think I might be the only one who can help you—but you’re not the only one who can help me, and frankly, I am not above leaving you here to figure out your own problems.”
She wavered, and I turned to leave.
