The Bastard from Fairyland

by Phil Parker

  That was the trouble with kindling, it could start fires easily and I wasn’t going to be responsible for burning this man. I wouldn’t do it deliberately, I cared for him too much, but I couldn’t say the same for the demons hiding in the darkness.

  Chapter 6

  I ran like a mad thing, lungs burning, legs aching.

  I scrambled up the old pear tree, clambered over the palace wall and dropped to the other side. The sun-baked ground was hard and in my hurry I failed to land properly, I turned my ankle and screamed in pain. On the other side of the wall shouts and loud commands reminded me I didn’t have time to worry about such irrelevances, I hobbled along the cart track to reach my destination as quickly as possible.

  I would be whipped for my misdemeanours, slaves weren’t allowed off the palace grounds for one thing. They certainly didn’t disobey orders from their superiors.

  It might have been the pain in my ankle that had me doubting the wisdom of my actions now. I wasn’t certain why I had taken off, except I needed to check for myself. I knew Irvyn wasn’t a liar. He was a bully and a moron but he didn’t need to lie to me. The fact he knew my secret was enough.

  More than that; Irvyn had acted out of vengeance and I only had myself to blame.

  I entered the wood and whistled. With a heart heavier than I could bear, I waited for a reply.

  Silence.

  I reached the barn. The door was smashed beyond recognition. The place was empty. My tears fell, their wellspring rooted in grief like I’d never known.

  There were signs of a scuffle amidst churned soil and leaf litter, broken branches gave me an easy-to-follow route out of the wood and into the meadow. Beyond there, nothing.

  The sun beat down on me from a cloudless blue sky, I collapsed on to soft grass, the pain in my ankle was bad but couldn’t compare to the pain in my heart.

  I’d woven together a neat tapestry of lies to allow me freedom for the entire day so I could spend more time with my wyvern. I’d started training her and been astonished by my success. My fantasy of roving the land with a tame wyvern was fast becoming reality. The library book had been helpful but I found she actually enjoyed learning the things I taught her, she clearly wanted to please me. We’d started on basic things, to come when I called her and to turn in certain directions, just like you’d do with a dog. I taught her to attack and to stop so I could scare the audience and amaze them by my control. She looked so impressive when I took her into the sunshine, she relished the heat, her scales shone with a burnished crimson that made her look so impressive.

  And now she was gone.

  I stared up into the sky, surprised that I wasn’t blaming Irvyn more. I had learned the lesson Master Sidwell had once been at pains to teach me; never give your enemies a motive for vengeance. Trouble with that philosophy is that it’s easy to say but difficult to do when you’re ridiculed, beaten and humiliated on a regular basis. Plus, it had started off as just a joke.

  I found myself wondering what I should have done differently but I suppose the answer was a simple one. Stay silent and inconspicuous. Yet the opportunity was just too good to pass up.

  The Belthane Festival was in full swing and I’d watched Irvyn parade around the lists after success in the early rounds of the mêlée, soaking up the praise that made him even more arrogant. It was during the final round when his opponent had kneed him between the legs, leaving him to writhe on the ground and squeal like a girl, that the idea occurred.

  I stood in the crowd with Kerra, a dim scullery maid. I joked about why his screams were so high-pitched and she looked confused. I explained the purpose of a man’s balls and what could happen when they were injured. Her eyes widened with astonishment and she turned back to watch Irvyn being helped up so he could stagger out of the arena holding his crotch while he cried.

  ‘Will he not be able to satisfy a woman now then?’ she’d asked.

  I convinced the poor girl that Irvyn, who she thought was the most attractive young man on the palace staff, wouldn’t be providing any girls with excitement from now on. By the end of the day the seed I’d sewn grew into a rich harvest of rumours, each one stating how poor Irvyn wouldn’t be sewing any of his seed from now on. I was confident the story wouldn’t be traced back to me, I doubted Kerra would even remember how the stories had started, I knew what a gossip she was.

  I hadn’t reckoned on Irvyn’s need to preserve his masculinity.

  He tracked me down but rather than administer the beating I’d expected, he told me he would do far worse than give me a bloody nose. I waited in fear for ten whole days.

  Tears blurred my vision of the blue sky above me. I didn’t bother to move when heavy footfalls gathered around me and I was manhandled back to the palace by a bunch of angry spriggans.

  Master Sidwell met me in the courtyard. Any kindness he’d ever shown me had vanished, he was grim and prim in equal measure. I was admonished for dereliction of duty, assault of a palace worker and for my extensively devious conduct as all my lies collapsed around me. I’d be made to work even harder as punishment and given no freedom of any kind because I couldn’t be trusted, in fact I would be supervised to ensure my work was of sufficient quality. If it wasn’t, I’d be punished even more. I was officially the lowest of the low in the palace.

  When Master Sidwell completed his verdict he looked at me with an expression that hurt most, there was so much disappointment on his old face. I was escorted to the palace infirmary to be treated for my injured ankle. A physician wiped freezing cold blue gel on the swollen joint and strapped it up before handing me back to my guard so I could be set to work; I wasn’t going to get time off to recover.

  A palace-wide conspiracy made sure I didn’t have a moment to myself. I was watched the entire time, always by people who enjoyed being the task master for once, people who savoured being able to get their own back on someone lower than they were. I washed and swept floors, polished furniture, washed greasy pots and pans and any time I paused, I received a beating. At the end of each day I’d collapse on the filthy mattress in the corner of a cupboard that I called home, to sleep solidly until dawn arrived and the cycle of misery would start again. Exhaustion drove away any thoughts of pursuing my wyvern, it was replaced by a seething resentment I aimed at everyone.

  Until one day when, on hands and knees, I was washing flagstones in front of the library. Few people used this part of the palace and it had been overlooked for that reason, the floor was filthy and my whole body ached from cleaning it. My good behaviour had earned me a friendlier supervisor who dusted the nooks and crannies and paid me little attention. I had just rinsed my brush in a bucket of water and turned back to continue scrubbing, to find a pair of brown leather boots, covered in mud, on my clear floor. I swallowed my complaint as I looked up at the imperious figure standing over me. The corridor was dark, the figure wore brown leather riding breeches, tunic and cloak, bare arms showed impressive biceps, not someone I wanted to upset therefore. The quality of their clothes told me they must be important. As a slave you know not to look the aristocracy in the face, it suggests equality, a huge slur to the great and the good of the Dark Court. I turned my attention back to my work and hoped I wouldn’t get a kicking.

  ‘Are you Keir?’

  The voice was refined, its tone full of authority but it was the pitch that confused me. It was almost a deep tenor yet there was something lighter in its timbre.

  ‘Yes sire.’

  I kept my eyes firmly on the floor but my heart started to pound in my chest. No one, especially the aristocracy, spoke to slaves by their names. You hardly ever heard your name mentioned by anyone; you certainly weren’t asked for by name, not unless you were in serious trouble. My mouth felt dry and swallowing proved impossible.

  One muddy boot was lifted off the floor and I tensed, ready for a kicking for whatever it was I’d done wrong. It reached my chin, tilting my head upwards, allowing me to see the face of the cloaked figure. Black hair was cut sho
rt at the sides of the head, leaving a mane to drop down to muscular shoulders. The deep scar across one cheek, ruthlessly thin lips and eyes the colour of iron meant it could only be one person. Recognition came from one source; her reputation, one that almost caused me to wet myself.

  ‘My lady Mab!’ I gasped and bowed repeatedly as I hurried to my feet.

  As I tried to gather my senses, she turned her attention to the woman repeatedly dusting the same part of a doorframe while trying to not look like she was watching everything.

  ‘You!’ The cleaning woman jumped and tried to curtsy at the same time. ‘Fuck off!’

  The poor thing kept curtsying while she backed away, colliding with a door at one point before turning and running to safety. I wanted to go with her.

  The one-time commander-in-chief of the forces of the Dark Court looked around, noticed the library and nodded her head towards it.

  ‘In there!’

  I scuttled after her swirling black cloak.

  Once inside the library I was instructed to shut the door while Mab looked about her, she’d obviously never been in this room before. If I hadn’t been so frightened I might have wondered why the lords and ladies bothered with a facility they never used but my greater interest lay in the hope of leaving the place alive.

  She grabbed a chair, swung it round on one leg to straddle it like a horse. I stood in front of her while she looked me up and down. There were so many stories about this woman, such as her valour and ruthlessness in battle, it was the stuff of legend. Amongst the male staff in the palace there was the story of her castrating two men because they hadn’t satisfied her sexually, at the same time!

  She beckoned me closer with an imperious finger and I tottered nearer, aware of how much I was sweating now and how rank I smelled. My fingers sought the ring on my thumb and I twisted it anxiously, I didn’t try to stop either, the alternative was to scream hysterically. Her eyes bore into mine and caused my bladder to demand to be emptied, it took every bit of self-control to make sure it didn’t.

  ‘You raised a wyvern.’

  I blinked repeatedly. I don’t know what I’d expected her to accuse me of, but that was at the bottom of my list of options. Eventually, as she glared at me, waiting for a reply, I nodded. My throat was like a dry river bed and speech was beyond me.

  ‘Tell me how. I want to know every detail. Leave anything out and I will visit enormous pain on you. Understand?’

  I nodded again. The need to stop her from castrating me, relaxed my vocal chords enough that I could speak. I didn’t just speak, I babbled. I told her everything, of my discovery of the animal, secretly feeding it, forming a bond that led to training it. Her eyes narrowed as I described the training we’d done, I even told her of my ambition to tour the land with the animal. I explained how it reacted out of loyalty, rather than for reward as you’d expect from a dog or a horse. She leaned forwards and stared at me when I said that. When I’d finished, she watched me closely without saying a word. The silence hung and I wondered if she was considering whether to kill me.

  ‘Where did you learn all this?’

  I swallowed hard. Slaves weren’t allowed in the library, if I confessed she could have me whipped. Or even worse, punishments that involved my scrotum.

  ‘Remember my threat. I want every detail.’

  ‘In here!’ I squeaked and felt tears prick the back of my eyes. ‘I found a book.’

  There was the faintest curl of her mouth, almost indistinguishable amidst the numerous lines there. It struck me that no other woman in the Dark Court wore their age so unashamedly, like it was her badge of honour.

  ‘You’re a slave, how did you learn to read?’

  That was easy to answer. ‘Master Sidwell taught me the basics, my lady. I’ve used the books here in the past to learn things.’

  She looked about her and shook her head.

  ‘You must be the only one who has.’

  I waited, uncertain if I should reply.

  ‘What did you learn about wyverns?’

  Gradually I found myself relaxing. She seemed more curious about wyverns than the petty criminal activity of a palace slave and I savoured discussing our mutual interest.

  ‘They’re really intelligent. I mean, more than other dragon species. They’re loyal, I know I said that, but they form a bond with certain people. I think they like anyone that treats them kindly. But they’re also really fierce in battle too. The book was written a long time ago and it said how, when they fight, they develop strategies. They don’t need to be told what to do, they can work it out for themselves. Mine was clever like that, she…’

  Suddenly tears streaked down my cheeks, I couldn’t help it. Talking about my time with her brought it all back. I’d tried hard not to think about her and now I was describing all the wonderful things we’d done together. Lady Mab watched me, but not with any scorn or recrimination, just casual interest.

  ‘Where is the moron that released the animal into the human realm?’

  ‘In the infirmary, recovering from an injury.’

  She frowned. ‘What injury?’ She’d obviously not heard what I’d done.

  ‘He fell down some steps during an… argument.’

  Her lips formed the slightest of smiles as I chose the final word.

  ‘Good for you.’

  Now I was the one to smile. I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand and wondered where all this was taking us. Lady Mab didn’t interrogate slaves unless there was a very good reason for it. She was clearly angry Irvyn had sent the animal through the forbidden gateway into the human realm. What worried me most was what might happen next because I had a sneaking suspicion what it might be and I didn’t like the idea at all.

  She looked up from examining her boots to focus on me.

  ‘Could you find it? In the human realm?’

  Oh crap. I’d been right. My mind raced with possibilities. Here was a chance to find the wyvern and bring her home, to rescue her. I wanted that so much. The question was, exactly how much? There was some kind of war going on in the human realm, what if I got caught up in it? Humans hated Fae, even hybrids, everyone knew that; what would they do to me if they caught me? And, not to be overlooked, my dark skin and black hair made me stand out, what if no one else looked like that over there?

  Those iron-grey eyes watched me. Mab wasn’t someone to displease, her two ex-lovers would agree, no doubt in high voices. She didn’t understand fear either, she was a ruthless and brave warrior. She’d never understand my cowardice.

  Then Master Sidwell’s voice was in my head. ‘Face your fear, Keir.’

  ‘Travel to the human realm is banned.’ It was an excuse but a genuine one.

  ‘Only if you were caught.’

  ‘Isn’t there a battle being fought there?’

  ‘Yes. One that could endanger your pet.’

  I didn’t like how she had answers to all my excuses and I especially didn’t like guilt being used against me.

  ‘Why do you care about the wyvern?’

  The words escaped my mouth before my brain realised they’d been said. I looked at the woman, horror-struck, and held my breath. The moment lasted for an eternity.

  ‘A reasonable question.’

  It was? I let my breath out in a heavy sigh. She laid her muscular arms across the back of the chair and raised her hands so she could rest her chin on them. She took a deep breath, never taking her eyes off me for a second.

  ‘If you repeat what I’m going to tell you, I will have you killed, precious as you are.’

  I was precious? How had that happened?

  ‘Our new High Lord launched an unsuccessful attack against the humans.’

  ‘I thought they were savages?’

  I got an impatient wave of a hand. ‘They’ve made greater advances than we’d been led to believe. It doesn’t matter. We believe our dragon breeding programme could offset the present stalemate.’

  ‘Dragon breeding?’

/>   Again, my question was dismissed with greater impatience, I needed to keep my mouth shut.

  ‘The animals we have introduced into the conflict have not performed…’ she eyed me carefully, ‘…intelligently. In fact they need to be controlled by riders, like you might with horses. Once the rider is removed from the beast it goes berserk, its unpredictability has cost us almost as many casualties as the other side.’

  ‘I’m not surprised if you’re using the big, slow animals. My book said that.’

  That didn’t go down well. Her expression darkened. I really did need to keep quiet.

  ‘Unfortunately, no one thought to consult the library. Except you.’

  I couldn’t avoid asking my next question as I tried to understand what I was getting involved in. ‘So why keep breeding them?’

  An impatient shake of the head. ‘We thought, if we found the correct training methods, we might capitalise on our investment. The problem has been finding that method. No one, so far,’ and her gaze intensified, ‘appears to know what they’re doing.’

  ‘Except me.’

  She sat silently, watching me, waiting to see what I was going to say next. I let my eyes drop to the floor so I had chance to think without her intimidating me. She wasn’t just asking me to find my wyvern, this was bigger than that. She wanted someone to train the dragons so they could become a war-winning weapon. I was unique. The only person in the entire Dark Court, perhaps the whole realm, who could do this work. I would no longer be a slave, condemned to spend my life on menial tasks, I would be someone others respected. I raised my eyes to look into hers.

  ‘Give me permission to go to the human realm to find her.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Our Light Court cousins will not allow it and if we flout the law our flimsy peace might end. It is too great a risk, no matter how tempting I find it.’

  She stood up and began to pace in front of me.