"There's Highway 54," Casey said, banking the aircraft and turning west toward the coast.
"That's National City right below us," Rowan said. "I was stationed in Coronado once … a lifetime ago."
"Feet wet," Casey said as they flashed out over the San Diego Bay. Just past the bay, rising out of the ocean, were Coronado Island and the Silver Strand—the narrow isthmus that connected the island's southern end with the mainland. Casey pointed past Rowan's head. "You can see the Bay Bridge over there, still standing after all these years." His voice conveyed his approval.
Angie leaned past Rowan, easily seeing the massive bulk of the Bay Bridge arching over the water, connecting the north end of Coronado Island to what had once been San Diego's downtown core. The bridge glowed green in the night-vision windshield. It was easily the largest man-made structure she had ever seen. "Do the elves maintain it somehow?"
"Elenaril doesn't use it," Tavi said from where she sat in a bucket seat. "Everything she needs comes over the strand, the main trade route to and from the enclave." She sucked her teeth in thought for a moment and then added, "Sometimes sailboats. She likes sailing."
"Just as well," said Rowan. "Someday that bridge is gonna come tumbling down."
"Not in our lifetime," Casey said.
Casey reached the Silver Strand. The narrow strip of land was only about a hundred meters wide but more than ten kilometers long. A single asphalt road ran through the strand, with sandy beach on either side. Casey banked the helicopter and followed the road north toward the island.
A minute later, Rowan leaned forward in his seat. "What the hell?"
"What is it?" Angie asked.
A thick forest covered the island ahead of them, and Angie’s gaze snapped from the sandy ruins of San Diego across the bay to the forest on the island. "Is that … normal?" The moment she said it, she knew it wasn’t. This far south along the coast, there were very few trees and certainly no thick forest like that.
"Fey magic," Tavi said simply. "Elenaril thinks trees breathe life into the enclave and that they protect her people."
Angie had to admit she was impressed. Char had done the same with her zoo in Fresno but never on this level.
"What does Elenaril think about anti-aircraft missiles?" Casey asked as they flew closer.
Tavi shook her head. "Doesn't need them."
"Not sure if I should be reassured or not," Casey muttered.
"The western side of the island used to be Naval Air Station North Island, runways and military infrastructure," Rowan said. "Now it looks like Fanghorn Forest. I don't even see a trace of the old runways."
Casey snorted. "Good. I don't need a runway."
Tavi rose, leaning over Rowan to point to their right. "There, near the shoreline. She's turned an old luxury hotel into her palace. Land on the sand near it."
As if on cue, flames sprouted on the beach, bonfires that formed a triangle. The flames lit up a large dome structure, now almost obscured by new woods and thick vines—Queen Elenaril’s palace. "Okay, that's just creepy AF," Rowan whispered. "This is a stealth helicopter."
"It's not magic," Tavi said. "Elenaril has scouts along the shoreline. Trust me, they've been watching and reporting on us since the moment we flew over the San Diego ruins. She doesn't like surprises."
Angie found herself wishing Char had been so cautious. If she had been, Nathan and the Home Guard might not have killed her and so many others in his surprise attack.
"What kind of welcome are we going to get?" Casey asked as he reduced speed and altitude, bringing the helicopter in between the bonfires. As they came closer, the prop wash kicked up a storm of sand.
Tavi's face betrayed her indecision. "Well … she's letting us land. There's that."
Rowan rose. "Let's get ready." He slipped past the two women into the crowded cabin, and Angie and Tavi followed.
The men stared at Tavi, and Angie saw the fear in their eyes. They don’t like being here, she realized. Shane was asleep, likely sedated, and tied to a stretcher with a blanket pulled up to his chin.
Tavi addressed the commandos. "Stay on board. Don't even touch your weapons. We clear?"
"Yes, Mago Diputado," the men answered with deadly seriousness.
Despite a lot of bold talk about the superiority of humans, most people remained frightened of the Fey. It was understandable. The unknown scared people and magic and the supernatural were about as unknown as you could get. Angie had lived among the Fey for years, studying magic under Char's tutelage, as Tavi had with Elenaril, but these men likely had little to no experience with the Fey.
Tavi then faced Angie and Rowan. "Just you two. Leave your brother here, as well as the sub-gun."
Angie's eyes darted to the cockpit, where Casey was bringing the engine to a halt. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "She's right. Casey's too … too prone to say whatever he thinks. That'll be dangerous in Elenaril's court."
"Heard that," Casey yelled without bothering to turn his head as he cycled through a series of switches and knobs. "And I am not."
"I don't like going about unarmed," Rowan said.
Tavi frowned at the sub-gun hanging from Rowan's shoulder. "Look, there are protocols here. This is Elenaril’s court. Besides, that gun isn't going to help you anyhow."
Rowan, his gaze defiant, pointed to the saber on Tavi's hip. "You're armed."
"That's different. I'm a mage. The elves are … testy about customs and protocols. Besides, they don't think a human mage can touch any of them with a hexed weapon anyhow. And they're probably right."
Not necessarily, Angie knew. Most human mages hadn't learned under Char's iron discipline, but she didn't argue the fact. Instead, she placed a hand on Rowan's forearm. "She's right. The Concord gives mages the authority to carry hexed weapons in negotiations. Guns, on the other hand, are a big no-no."
Rowan sighed but handed his sub-gun to one of the commandos.
Another commando peered through a porthole. "There's a group of warriors waiting. Phoenix Guard, I think."
Angie had seen a platoon of the elite elven guard when they had accompanied Queen Elenaril to her meeting with Char. She looked through the porthole, scrutinizing the figures near one of the bonfires—five elven warriors stood waiting, all wearing black-and-red mail armor with black Starsheen cuirasses, each molded in the form of a muscular torso, both male and female. The Starsheen armor, its crafting known only to the elves, would turn even an assault rifle bullet at close range. Each warrior wore a conical helm, also crafted from Starsheen metal. The warriors carried short spears with two-foot-long spearheads, the metal gleaming in the firelight. They'll be damned good with those spears, Angie knew. The Phoenix Guard trained from childhood.
"How much experience do you have with elves?" Tavi asked her quietly, having moved beside her.
"A bit, not much. Our fight-master was elven. A few other servants. The elves in Fresno could be … standoffish."
Tavi chuckled. "Well, Elenaril is queen here. The elves are very touchy about customs, and some of them are very strange. Be respectful." She paused for effect, making sure Rowan heard her. He sniffed, rolling his eyes. "She'll offer you welcome. There will be food and drink."
"I'm not touching elven food," Rowan said. "I'm not waking up twenty years from now a bearded old man."
"You’re already an old man," Casey yelled out from the cockpit.
"Don't be an idiot," Tavi snapped. "She doesn't want you here, not now and certainly not for twenty years. Nor do any of her people. She's not going to try to enchant you. They don’t like us. I lived here for years, training under her, and they barely tolerated me or the other mages. But if you don't accept her hospitality and at least taste everything you're offered, you'll insult her, and I need her help."
Rowan grumbled but acquiesced.
Tavi placed a hand on Angie's shoulder, the tender gesture at odds with her previous haughty demeanor. "She'll … she'll know about Chararah Succubus by now, and she'll
push you for details. I can't tell you what to tell her. Elenaril is … well, she has her own priorities, and not all in her court are friends to my people. Some would approve of the Concord failing. The only advice I can give is this: don't lie to her. She always knows."
Angie, her lips tight, nodded. "Let's go get this over with."
"One last thing," Tavi said to the others. "No matter how long we're gone, don't come after us. Stay in the aircraft."
"If you say so," Casey said in confusion. "You planning on napping while you're here?"
"Just stay in the aircraft," Tavi said.
Chapter 10
As Angie, Rowan, and Tavi stepped out of the helicopter, the five Phoenix Guard warriors lowered their spear points to the ground, a Fey gesture signifying they did not intend to fight. Tavi stopped several paces before the elves, placed her left palm on the hilt of her saber, and bent over deeply, exposing the back of her neck. "May the stars always light your path, Lance Commander Wyn Renna," Tavi said in much better Elvish than Angie could have managed.
The warrior she spoke to, a strikingly tall elf with a black Starsheen breastplate molded in the shape of a female torso and a gleaming silver-and-red helmet with a bright-red horsehair plume, glided forward. Unlike the other guards’ open-faced helmets, Wyn Renna’s covered her face completely, containing only dark eye slits.
The elven warrior bent over, exposing her own neck. "May you have no need of stars in the darkness, Mago Diputado Octavia Maria Navarro. Long have we suffered the loss of your company and welcome you back to your once-home." She stood straight once more, turning her helmeted head slightly to see Angie and Rowan. "And who are your friends?" The elven woman’s voice was muffled by her helmet but sounded somehow oddly familiar to Angie, although she was certain she had never met her before.
Tavi turned to face Angie, but before she could speak, Angie stepped forward, repeating the elaborate elven bow and speaking in her poor Elven tongue. "I greet you with honor, Lance Commander. I am Mage-Adept Angela Harriet Ritter, a pupil of Chararah Succubus of the Fresno Enclave."
"Welcome, student of the Druid of Fresno," Wyn Renna said, switching to far better English than Angie’s Elvish. "We have heard … disturbing news from our cousins to the north, but this is neither the time nor place for such talk."
"And this," said Tavi in English, gesturing to Rowan, "is—"
Rowan stepped forward, his chin high. "Rowan Seagrave." He jammed his hand at the elf.
Angie didn't miss the slight stiffening in the posture of the other elves, their hands tightening about the shafts of their spears.
Wyn Renna stared at Rowan's hand for a moment as if it were a snake but then stepped forward and took it, shaking it in her mailed hand. "Welcome, Captain Seagrave. We have heard of you."
"Not a captain, not anymore," he said, releasing her hand.
"So we have also heard."
Wyn Renna motioned behind her toward the vine-covered, castle-like domes of the former beachside hotel that Queen Elenaril had converted into her palace. Its multileveled former rooms and balconies were now converted into hanging gardens, and the once-bright-red roof was covered in vines, reminding Angie of a spider’s web. A beautifully maintained elven garden bright with flowers and butterflies lay between them and the hotel, with a path through the garden lit by scores of candles, the flames creating halos in the darkness.
"Please follow us. My queen awaits."
The tall, armored elf led Angie and the others into the queen's throne room. Queen Elenaril Cloudborn and a small group of her advisers awaited them in a vast circular chamber that might once have been a ballroom but had long ago been completely converted into something more appropriate for elves. The chamber glowed with silver and gold furnishings lit by hundreds of candles. A wide pond sat in the center of the chamber, built into the floor and surrounded by an interior garden with exotic flowers. Lilies and ferns dotted the surface of the pond, with frogs and insects flitting about. Something splashed in the water, and just for a moment, Angie saw a tentacle-like appendage, complete with a single eye at its end, break the water before disappearing again, the ripples spreading outward from where it had been. The air was moist and thick with exotic fragrances. Scores of butterflies capered about the high domed ceiling. Exotic birds cried out from their places atop vines that wound their way up the walls. A single elven harpist played a haunting tune.
Queen Elenaril sat upon a dais at the rear of the chamber. A large circular window behind the queen’s meticulously carved throne, gilded in silver and gold, teamed with the rising sun to bathe the elven queen in its crimson glow, giving her an otherworldly appearance. On either side of Elenaril's throne stood a pair of the largest trolls Angie had ever seen. The tusk-toothed, green-skinned beasts, at least eight feet tall and weighing hundreds of pounds, all gristle and muscle, held broad-bladed axes against their tree-trunk chests.
As Wyn Renna led Angie, Tavi, and Rowan to the queen, her advisers stepped aside, some watching the humans with glances of open disdain. Wyn Renna dropped onto a knee, holding her short spear under one arm so that the spearhead pointed behind her, and bowed to the queen, bending so low her helmet almost touched the polished wooden floor. "My Mistress of the Evening Star," Wyn Renna said in Elvish. "I present your former student Mago Diputado Octavia Maria Navarro and her friends, Mage-Adept Angela Harriet Ritter and former Home Guard Captain Rowan Seagrave."
Before the Awakening, when elves and fairies had been staples of fantasy movies and books, people had imagined elves to be like beautiful humans, identical but with pointed ears. The truth, though, was that while elves might have been beautiful, they were only beautiful to other elves. To humans, they were alien and frightening. The strange eyes were always the first thing that people noticed, and Queen Elenaril’s almond-shaped purple eyes—too large and set too far back on the sides of her head—were no exception. They seemed to see right through Angie as the queen turned her gaze on her. Her forehead sloped back to form an elongated egg-like skull covered in long, straight hair so black it seemed to leach the light around her.
The old myths and movies had been right about one aspect of elves, though: the long, pointed ears. Elenaril's ears were studded with a half-dozen glistening gems of various colors and sizes. She wore a flimsy green gown, nearly transparent and little more than an illusion of clothing. Her body was flawless, the limbs long and smooth, the skin so pale it appeared bone white. Like the other elves, much of the queen’s skin was adorned with Elvish tattoos—powerful runes, according to Char. Her crown was set with glittering diamonds that sparkled in the light, drawing the eye whenever she moved her head.
Queen Elenaril stood and opened her long arms wide, the palms pointing toward Angie and the others. She was tall for an elf although not as tall as Wyn Renna. "And I welcome all three and offer them food and drink." She spoke in English with barely a trace of an accent.
As if by magic, a trio of fairies appeared, flying down from an alcove in the ceiling, their wings buzzing madly as they landed. Each fairy held a small wooden cup and a morsel of bread. The fairies, finding clothing tedious, were nude, of course. Tavi and Angie bowed as they accepted the offerings, quickly eating and sipping the strong licorice-scented drink within the wooden cups. Rowan hesitated only a moment before accepting and downing the offering. The drink, a type of wine, was stronger than Angie would have thought, and it warmed her core.
"We thank you for your welcome, Queen Elenaril Cloudborn," Tavi said formally.
"Chairs for our guests," Queen Elenaril said as she sat upon her throne once more. More fairies rushed forth with cushioned stools. "I remember you," the queen said to Angie. "When I visited my sister in magic, the Druid of Fresno. You were younger then and your eyes not so filled with pain. Time is so cruel to your kind."
"You have a wonderful memory, your majesty," Angie said.
"I mourn the loss of your mother Chararah Succubus. Your arrival brings … mixed emotions, I must say."
Queen Elenaril, her purple eyes glittering in the candlelight, inclined her chin. "Is it true, then? Ephix Lamia rules the Fresno Enclave?"
"It is," Angie said simply. Angie recognized the look of unease that passed among the members of Queen Elenaril's court. Ephix and her vampires frightened everything, even other Fey.
"So," said Queen Elenaril with a trace of melancholy, "in place of our beloved forest druid, we now have a Dark Mistress, a queen of nightmares and blood drinkers. The world is indeed teetering on the edge of madness." She sighed, raising a thin, too-long dark eyebrow. "But from the other rumors we have heard, perhaps it is exactly the correct time and place for a more…" She paused, considering her words. "Nuanced leader of the Fresno Enclave. I loved Chararah Succubus, but her path was ever one of compromise and principles, not war and resolution. Tell me, Angela Ritter, are our peoples at war? Does the Concord yet stand?"
"The Concord stands," Angie said with surprising conviction. Angie ensured she kept eye contact with Elenaril. "A single human, Nathan Case, a Mage-Adept and commander of the Home Guard, betrayed his own city to attack the Fresno Enclave. He even would have murdered First Councilor Marshal if not stopped. I stopped him."
"I remember that one as well," the queen said, her voice devoid of warmth. "Another student in Chararah’s school, a viper, I warned her. I saw the rot in his eyes in a moment. I advised your mother to kill him, but she would not. His soul was always stretched too thin. Anyone with vision could see this."
"Chararah didn’t kill without cause."
The Awakened World Boxed Set Page 36
