by J. M. Briggs
“You still doing okay, Timothy?” Alex asked.
“Yes,” the small voice of the Brownie answered.
Leaning forward, Alex looked out the front window as three parked RVs came into view. The campsite was otherwise empty and she could see the trail leading up into the hills between two of the RVs. Tucked back in the shade of the trees, the RVs were dark and quiet. Merlin turned the SUV around and carefully positioned them so the nose was towards the road. Good for a quick escape.
“Well, here we are,” Morgana said. She turned and looked back at Alex and then out the back window. “If things turn violent, Alex, get back in the SUV.”
“I’ll leave the keys in the ignition,” Merlin said. “Leave if we tell you to.”
Alex didn’t say anything. She couldn’t agree to it but knew better than to say she wouldn’t go. Morgana’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, but Alex stayed silent. Then the older mage sighed and opened her door. Climbing out, Alex looked towards the collection of RVs parked in the small camping area. Nothing about them looked odd or out of place except being out a bit earlier in spring than usual. They were still, but Alex could hear voices even across the campground. The leaves of the trees surrounding them rustled in the wind but provided a spotty patch of shade.
Alex opened the front pocket of her bag and offered her hand to help Timothy. The Brownie scrambled out and onto her palm before racing up her arm to settle on her shoulder. Suppressing a shiver, Alex glanced towards Merlin and Morgana, waiting for guidance. The two elder mages were shoulder to shoulder and eyeing the RVs with frowns.
The slam of another set of car doors behind them reminded Alex that Lance and Jenny were here as well. Turning to look over her shoulder, she found them with the sheathed swords in their hands and standing in front of Lance’s truck. Jenny offered her a real if uneasy smile. Alex nodded to them, silently thanking them for coming along.
The door of the first RV opened with a squeal that made Alex shiver. Sídhe descendants, who were almost the same height as her, stepped out first. Smaller creatures jumped down the metal folding stairs of the RV around them. The rest of the RVs opened and their occupations filed out. Without any words, they spread out in the shade and looked at them curiously. There really were a bunch of different sorts. Alex’s eyes jumped between the different types of Faeries as her brain struggled to identify them. There were more Brownies like Timothy and a few other smaller creatures. There were several Sídhe descendants who could pass as pale humans with hoods pulled over their heads.
The Faeries spread out in the shade, forming a line of alien creatures against the spring green of the trees and undergrowth. Alex shifted so that her shadow kept Timothy out of direct sunlight. To her surprise the Brownie leaped off her shoulder and landed in the trod down dirt with a soft thump. Timothy brushed off his pants and went over to join a small group of Brownies near an RV wheel. He hugged one of them and nodded to the others.
“Greetings,” Merlin said. His voice rang through the campground, echoing with power as he stood straight and looked at each of the creatures in turn with his dark brown eyes. “I am known as Merlin.” There were whispers amongst the Faeries, but none of them moved away.
“I am Morgana.” Alex could see Morgana sizing up all the creatures, though her gaze lingered on the Sídhe descendants. “This is Alexandra, the current incarnation of the Iron Soul.”
Blinking, Alex tried to keep her surprise off her face. She hadn’t expected Merlin and Morgana to be so blunt about who she was. Unsure of what to do when so many violet and black eyes turned to her, Alex nodded in greeting.
In the corner of her eye, Alex saw small shadowy creatures moving amongst the trees. They flickered in and out of her sight, but she was left with an impression of a dog like creature. Turning her head, she stared nervously into the shadows, worried that something else had found them.
“Pookas,” Morgana said softly. “Don’t try to look at them. Direct sight usually doesn’t work.”
“Oh.” Swallowing, Alex filed that information away and tried not to stare at the different creatures in front of her.
“The two behind us are humans named Jenny and Lance,” Morgana added. She gestured to them, almost dismissively. “They are allies of Alexandra.”
“We’re here to discuss recent events,” Merlin said, drawing attention back to himself. “I’m certain that you must have questions. Your people have lived in relative peace in our world for generations. What happened must have come as a shock.”
“Timothy says that Scáthbás cast the spell on all of us,” one of the small Brownies said. It made an impressive jump up onto the top of one of the RVs. The Brownie looked a lot like Timothy with the same ears and dark eyes, but an older looking face. This one was dressed in what looked like a doll’s old military uniform. “That can’t possibly be true.”
“Scáthbás is a myth!” one Faery shouted.
“She died during the war!” another insisted. “It couldn’t be her!”
“Something with power cast that spell.” Merlin’s voice was patient, though his eyes were not. “And surely you don’t believe that we mages ordered you to attack us?”
“You might have,” another creature said. This one was taller, almost as tall as them with a misshapen chin and nose. It sneered. “How many of our brothers and sisters did you destroy?” It sniffed at the air and looked at Morgana. “There are stories about the pair of you as well. Parents warn their children to stay away from the mages, but most of all Morgana le Fey.” The creature’s voice went low and gravely. “Her hatred of any Faery creatures is a legend in of itself. Raised by Scáthbás and then betraying her. Maybe you cast that spell just to have an excuse!’
There were murmurs of agreement and fear in the small crowd. Alex’s eyes jumped to Morgana. Anger welled in her chest on Morgana’s behalf. Something at the back of her mind flashed hot and bright. There was a girl with her hand in a bowl of blood, screaming in pain. There was an expression of defeat and horror on the face of a younger Morgana as droplets of glowing blood ran across a green hillside.
“There were no options open to us,” Morgana snapped. She glared at the creature, smiling slightly when it shuffled back. “The loss of life was regrettable, but they were compelled to kill mages and so we had to defend ourselves. Debating the morality between two groups who lack their freedom of choice is pointless. Any mage will and must fight to protect their lives so that we can safeguard the Iron Realm.”
“I don’t believe it!” A voice near the back called out. “Dead or myth, it couldn’t have been Scáthbás!”
“She survived the war, I fear.” Merlin’s brow was furrowing and Alex saw him casually lift his right hand. He was ready to summon his magic. Beneath her feet, Alex could feel the hum of the ground and her own magic stirred. “Her essence was trapped in an Iron Gate, and when it eroded she was released. We believe that she became a wraith of some sort and possessed a human woman. With the artifact she used to ensnare you, she made herself half-Sídhe by killing Sídhe descendants. She has also successfully created another half-mage half-Changeling creature. We have since destroyed the artifact, but her power and influence are still very much a concern.”
“If that’s true, then Scáthbás pulled one over on you.” This time it was a small pale creature, just over three feet high that spoke. It had pointed ears and unusually large purple eyes. “She’s part human and part Sídhe like the two of you.”
“She is not like us!” Morgana snapped. Rage exploded across her features, but the mage quickly regained control. “Merlin’s existence was allowed by the Iron Realm itself and I am loyal to the Iron Realm. Scáthbás took possession of a human body and then bound Sídhe flesh into herself and that of her son.”
“Legends say that you were bound with your Changeling form,” the pixie-like creature said. Its gaze jumped between Merlin, Morgana, and Alex. “You were made by the Queen, not by the Iron Realm.”
“Morgana was also
the sister of the first Iron Soul,” Merlin offered smoothly. “I have long believed that Arto’s faith in her impacted the Iron Realm’s acceptance of her.”
Morgana said nothing and didn’t look at Merlin. Alex wondered if that was true at all or just a nice little story to tell the Faeries in these circumstances. Nonetheless, she felt a stirring of affection for both of the older mages that briefly overpowered the churning worry. She didn’t like the thoughtful expressions on the faces of some of the Faeries. It was too calculating as the fear melted away.
“This is quite the story you came to tell us,” the knotted nose Faery said. It was almost smiling; almost looked amused as it looked towards the Pixie down the line. “Convenient.”
“Nevertheless, Queen Scáthbás is alive,” Merlin said. He was far too calm now and the air around him was too still. The Faeries shifted and looked nervously at each other. Alex caught a few glints of curiosity, but most of their eyes were fearful or dismissive. “I do not know what stories you may have of her amongst your communities, but she was an intelligent and brutal leader of the Sídhe. Most of you are not descendants of her warriors: most of you are descendants of those she enslaved. You are in this world because, as her forces were defeated, your ancestors decided life hiding in a world of iron was better than enslavement. Scáthbás has already proven happy to use you against the Iron Realm, and make no mistake, if she finds another way to use you, she will.”
“But you killed them,” one of the smaller creatures said. It had twisted legs and tiny nubs on its forehead. Not a Sídhe, but something else. It was glaring right at Alex. “You mages killed dozens of our kind!”
“I’m sorry.” Alex meant the words. She heard Morgana make a small noise but ignored it. “But they had orders to kill us. We didn’t know what was happening and had to fight for survival.”
“Yet now the spell is gone!” the same creature shouted. Alex wanted to ask its name, but the way those dark little brown eyes were fixed on her made her nervous. “You say that we are free, but are we truly? How do you know?”
“The artifact that was the focus of the spell has been broken.” Alex’s voice wavered and she scanned the small group of Fae. None looked convinced. “I destroyed it myself using the Iron Hammer created by the Iron Soul Thor. Believe me, I hated that artifact as well, and I smashed it to break its hold. The remains are in our hands now, beyond the power of Scáthbás. Its power cannot be used anymore.”
“For now,” the creature with the knobs grumbled. “Until the next plot by you mages, the Queen or the Old Ones!”
There was a rush of noise as the creatures turned and talked to each other. Staying silent, Alex noticed that some were looking at her angrily. Others looked fearful, some curious but worst of all was the resignation in the eyes of some of them. They were all so different. Some of the creatures almost looked human and wouldn’t have gotten much attention in a big city. Others were small like the Brownies with a variety of skin tones and eyes colors. The Sídhe descendants hung at the edges of the group. A pair of young looking ones were holding hands. Their sweatshirts were ragged and hung awkwardly over their thin frames.
Refugees. The word made Alex’s heart clench. Her breath fled her and her knees quivered. They were born here and yet… the world itself would never accept them. Always on the edge of society, living together and just trying to survive. The anger, fear, and resignation made too much sense.
“We’re going to keep fighting Scáthbás,” Alex said. Morgana made a soft sound of warning, but Alex ignored her. She needed to say something: she couldn’t just stand next to Merlin and Morgana like a puppet waiting for its strings to be pulled. “Her… son, Arthur, the creature that Merlin spoke of murdered my parents.” Cold rushed through her body; her knees buckled and Alex feared that she’d fall over. In her chest, the knot tightened and her magic rushed to contain the storm of emotions. “You need to understand what he is; what they both are. I’m sorry for what happened to you, I’m sorry about those you lost, but don’t let Scáthbás and Arthur use them against you. They don’t care about you.”
“Neither do you,” the Pixie said. Those large purple eyes were fixed on her. Alex opened her mouth to argue that she had basic compassion and of course she cared, but the Pixie wasn’t done. “Why is there a protector of the Iron Realm? Why is there an Iron Soul and yet nothing rose up to save our home worlds before they were enslaved?” Many of the Faeries nodded in agreement and called out for an answer.
“I-”
“We are mages of the Iron Realm,” Merlin all but shouted. The Faeries quieted once more. “We cannot speak as to why certain things happened or didn’t happen on your home worlds. Our power is from this world: our role and our place are here. Consider that maybe there were defenses but that they fell to the Sídhe. I doubt your ancestors just surrendered to slavery. That is your history, not ours.” Inhaling slowly, Alex watched as Merlin tensed and shook his head. “I am sorry for the harm done to your ancestors and the realities you face in this world. That sympathy, and the fact that you don’t cause trouble, is why Morgana and I have left you alone. Do not change that.”
The words hung in the air, icy and still. It was like the lingering ring of a church bell over a graveyard, heavy with a sense of finality. Morgana was staring down some of the Faeries and Alex was at a loss of what to do. She quickly found Timothy amongst the Brownies. He looked sad and disappointed but resigned. Alex wondered who he was disappointed in. Her gaze moved back to the Pixie who was frowning thoughtfully. The creature with the crooked now was glaring at Merlin while the Faery with the knobbed head was almost smirking. All three expressions nagged at her. This wasn’t the end of it.
“If you hear anything that might be of use send us a message.” Morgana’s voice cut through the silence. “You can reach me easily enough through the name Morgana Cornwall.”
“And I can be reached through the name Ambrose Yates,” Merlin added. “Thank you for meeting with us. Do take care.” His lighter tone didn’t ease the earlier threat. “I hope we will all be able to return to our peaceful lives soon.”
Alex’s eyes jumped back to the Brownies, suddenly uncertain of if Timothy was coming with them. The familiar small shape hugged one of the Brownies and waved before rushing across the ground to Alex’s feet.
“Timothy?” the Pixie called. “You’re going with them?”
Timothy stopped and turned back to them. Alex craned her neck a bit looking down for a moment before she knelt. Opening the front pocket of her bag, she said nothing as Timothy shifted between his feet.
“Iron Soul freed me when I almost killed her,” Timothy said softly. “I can’t help much, but I can take messages back and forth. Brownies hide easily.”
“We have phones,” the Pixie replied dryly, glaring at Alex now. “You don’t have to stay with them.”
“I want to help.” Timothy sighed and his ears drooped. “Even if only helping care for a home. It’s what Brownies do.”
There were murmurs from the Faeries, but none of them said anything as Timothy climbed back into Alex’s bag. The Pixie was still glaring at her and the crooked nose creature was whispering to another Faery. Alex wanted to ask why they personally hated her so much, but she could guess. They’d lost track of the Faeries that had attacked them. Alex had no idea how many she’d killed herself.
Alex frowned. Her mouth turned and her brows shifted. A teasing voice that sounded like Jenny warned her that she’d get wrinkles. Yet she couldn’t stop. Her mind was a mess of the whispers and a hundred different thoughts that all pulled in different directions. There was guilt yes, absolutely there was guilt, but there was also a bitter sense of resignation that she didn’t like.
This was war. That thought solidified all too easily.
21
Making Plans
464 B.C.E. Cashel, Ireland
Frustration radiated from Flaitheas as they rode. While her horse wasn’t moving quickly, there was a deliberation in its p
ace that matched that of its mistress. Leugio found himself watching her with worry. A look back at Aodh and Nyle riding behind them assured him that they were just as concerned.
“Flaitheas?” Leugio urged his horse closer to hers. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped. Then she sighed and shook her head a little. “I’m sorry, Leugio. I’m just frustrated.”
“We were able to stop the Sídhe in the area,” Leugio reminded her. “Hopefully those people will be safe for a time.”
“Yes, the Sídhe have retreated into their mound,” Flaitheas agreed. “But for how long? Part of me thinks we should gather an army and go into their mounds to finish this, once and for all.”
“No!” Leugio shouted the word before he even thought about it. Flaitheas looked at him quickly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Flaitheas.”
“But we can’t do this forever, Leugio,” Flaitheas said. She sighed again and tightened her grip on the reins of her horse. “The Sídhe are scattered across the land in different kingdoms and are uniting under some mysterious lord. How long do we wait? I know going into their mounds, into their territory is dangerous, but isn’t it worse to just wait around?”
