by Jocelyn Fox
I had to hide my smile. “I think he’s taking issue with your nickname for him,” I told the North-woman.
“Oh,” she said. “Well, there’s nothing offensive about it. It’s just what we call the newest member of any pack.”
Merrick frowned. “I think we’re about the same age. Or I might even be a bit older—” He stopped abruptly as Vell shoved the pointed end of the spit in his direction.
“Listen, pup, doesn’t matter what age you are,” she told him. “It’s just how it is.”
Merrick looked at me. I shrugged. With a slightly incredulous expression, he took the spit carefully from Vell and settled it on the forked branches she had arranged on either side of the now-crackling fire.
I cleared my throat. “Well, I think I’m going to go see if there’s anything else that needs my attention before we leave.”
“Don’t think I didn’t see that with the fire,” Vell called out after me. I grinned at her over my shoulder and kept walking.
The practice field around the barracks was still trampled down and muddied from the battle. The ashes and bone fragments—all that had been left of our enemies—had either been buried or swept into the forest, I wasn’t sure which; but I was certainly glad that the smoldering piles were gone. They had made the clearing truly look the part of a battleground.
“My lady Tess,” called out a voice overhead. I shaded my eyes against the sun and made out Farin. I still had trouble telling the Glasidhe twins apart by sight alone when they flew silently side-by-side, but I could tell Farin apart by her lighter voice.
“What news, Farin?” I asked. The Glasidhe descended until she hovered at eye-level.
“I beg your leave to join your party,” Farin said. “Leave for my brother and I.”
“Of course,” I said immediately. “You and your brother have served very well as scouts, and I’d be honored to have you along.”
“The honor is ours, my lady,” Farin replied with a curt little bow. She showed her small, pointed teeth. “I thirst to kill Dark creatures, after seeing them in the flesh.”
“I’m sure you’ll have more than your fair share of chances,” I told her seriously. “The journey won’t be easy, and I expect the Enemy has laid traps for us.”
“Forin and I can scout out even the most carefully set trap,” Farin replied. Silver flashed as she drew one of her daggers. “And you may be sure that whomever lies in wait will taste the blades of the Glasidhe!”
I smiled a little at Farin’s fierce fervor. “I have no doubts about that.”
Then Farin sobered and sheathed her blade. “My cousin also bid me tell you that her brother is not well.”
“Forsythe?” I asked, tamping down the sudden fear that clutched at my heart.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Bring me to him,” I said, not caring that my voice carried all the authority of a captain. Farin bowed to me and then zipped away, fast as a shooting star. I stretched my legs into a run, following her as closely as I could. She led me to the edge of the forest, pausing by a silver tree and calling out in the mellifluous Glasidhe tongue. I waited, forcing myself to take calm, deep breaths. I walked in a circle around the tree, and stopped suddenly.
Molly sat against the trunk of the silver tree, legs folded gracefully beneath her, dark hair held back with a simple band of red cloth. The silver circlet and the magnificent flowing gown she had worn the last time I’d seen her were gone, replaced by a plain white shirt and dark trousers that she’d no doubt borrowed from one of the more slender Sidhe. She was absorbed in a small book written in the Sidhe tongue, and looked up only when my shadow fell across the page. A flash of uncertainty passed through her catlike eyes. She stood with the liquid grace of the Sidhe, holding the book in front of her like a shield.
“Lady Bearer,” she said, bowing her head. Despite her lack of gown and circlet, her curtsey was still perfectly delicate and graceful.
Something wrenched deep in my chest. Molly didn’t remember me. She didn’t remember her mortal life, and there was a good chance those memories would never return to her, no matter how hard I tried to remind her of our friendship. A quick stab of anger pierced my chest. “What are you doing here?”
Molly kept her eyes lowered. “Standing guard, my lady, such as my skills allow.” She gestured with one hand to the two slender, short swords on her belt, one on either side of her waist, angled so that she could draw each blade with the opposite hand.
“Standing guard?” I repeated through numb lips.
“Yes,” Molly replied softly. “I thought it would be the least I could do, after my uncle mistreated the Glasidhe so spitefully.”
I stared at her for a moment. “The former Vaelanmavar,” I said finally, forcing the words out, “was the only one who ever thought to do harm to the Glasidhe.” I felt my gaze sharpen into a glare. I knew it wasn’t fair, this anger toward Molly, but as I stood waiting to hear Forsythe’s fate, it was too much to suppress. I either had to embrace the anger, or let it choke me silently. “So I fail to see why they need a guard.”
Molly stood very straight and still. “I am merely doing what seems right to me.” She paused. I waited, feeling the anger rolling off me like waves crashing onto the shore before a storm. “I hardly know what to think sometimes.” Raising her eyes to me, she said, “I know as little as a newborn babe, and yet I am a woman grown.” Frustration clouded her beautiful face. “I am not a dullard, Lady Bearer, whatever you may think of me. I know that I had a life before I was unbound by the Queen, but I cannot remember it, and so I must make my way as best I can.” Her eyes were fierce now, reminiscent of the Molly I had known in the mortal world. “From what I have heard, I know that you and I were once close as sisters.” Her mouth twisted. “And I wish it were so. Then I would have family other than my treacherous uncle, who slid poisonous words into my ear as soon as the Queen washed my mind clean of my mortal half.”
My anger compressed into a cold, hard knot in my chest. I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that you feel so lost,” I managed, my voice rough. “I wish I could bring back your memories for you.” I shook my head. “But I can’t. I’ve tried, and I can’t, and it’s too painful for me to keep wishing you were the best friend I knew. I’m sorry.”
“You need not apologize, Lady Bearer,” Molly said quietly, her voice carefully controlled. “But perhaps we may yet become friends again, in this world.”
“Perhaps,” I allowed, though it pained me to even admit that possibility. Any friendship that the Fae Molly and I developed would be a mockery of our bond in the mortal world. It would just be a constant reminder of what I had lost, like a ghost haunting my footsteps. “But we’re at war,” I said, the Iron Sword thrumming on my back, “and I must do my duty as Bearer.”
“No one would expect any less of you, Lady Bearer,” Molly said firmly. She met my eyes with her own again, fiercely. “It may be too bold of me, Lady Bearer, but I count myself proud to have been your friend, even if I cannot remember.” She looked down again at the book in her hands. “And even if now you look upon me with distaste.”
“I don’t…” I let my words trail into silence. Though she didn’t remember me, I still couldn’t lie to Molly. She’d detested lies, despite the fact that she had practically lived one in the mortal world for over twenty years, never mind that it wasn’t completely intentional, at least at first.
“Tess.”
I turned at Flora’s voice, both grateful and guilty for the rescue. “Flora.” I held out my hand, and the fierce little Glasidhe warrior alighted on my palm without a trace of hesitation. “How is Forsythe?”
“My brother will live,” replied Flora, her incandescent wings trembling. “But it remains to be seen if he will ever lift a sword again.”
“Oh, Flora,” I said. “Is there anything that I can do?”
“Give us leave to travel back to Darkhill,” Flora said heavily, as if every word pained her. “Forsythe would be best healed by our Prin
cess, if she is able. And if she is not, it is our sworn duty to protect her, in any case.”
“Of course,” I murmured, though my throat was tight at the thought of losing two of my closest friends. Despite their size, Flora and Forsythe had been my sword-teachers after Ramel had left Darkhill, and they had accompanied me on my wild ride to the barracks. I blinked and swallowed, clearing my throat. “I could try to use my taebramh, if both you and Forsythe agreed, if he wished it.” But even as I said the words I balked, knowing that I hadn’t ever used my white fire for healing, though some small part of me knew I could. And for all their fierceness, the Glasidhe were small, more fragile just by merit of their size than the Sidhe.
Flora shook her head. “I do not doubt your power, but I would have you save it for the journey to the Seelie Court. You will need all your strength.”
“I know,” I said softly, “but I’d gladly give up a bit of strength to help Forsythe.”
“I do not want to leave you,” Flora said miserably, burying her pretty face in her tiny hands. “But he is my brother!”
“He is your brother, and should be your first concern,” I told her gently.
“Forin and Farin are going with you, at least,” the Glasidhe continued, clearing her throat. “Forin has a level head on his shoulders. You might have to restrain Farin, once in a while. She loses her sense sometimes when the scent of blood is on the wind.”
I nodded. “I’ll remember that.”
“They’re both good scouts. They work best as a team, to balance each other out.”
I smiled a little. “I’ll miss you, Flora.”
“We’ll see each other again,” she replied fiercely. “Don’t you go acting like this is our last parting or some such nonsense.”
I raised my eyebrows. “All right then.” I smiled at her. “You have an open invitation to join us, whenever you like, you know. If you can find us.”
“If I can find you,” snorted Flora in a very unladylike manner.
I shrugged. “I’ve heard it’s a rough road to the Seelie Court.”
“It’s a rough road, all right, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t track you to Brightvale and back if I had a mind,” said Flora with a note of finality in her voice, crossing her arms and looking at me balefully.
I chuckled. “I know.”
“Good.” Flora uncrossed her arms and fiddled with one of her knives. “I wish I could come with you, truly I do. And I will be there with all speed as soon as my brother mends.”
I nodded. “I’ll be expecting you, then.”
“I’ll probably turn up when you least expect it,” she corrected me with a grin. She shifted in my palm. “Forsythe would make his farewells, but I would rather he not strain himself right now.”
“I understand. Wish him a safe journey and speedy recovery for me. Say hello to Lumina as well.”
“I shall make your courtesies to our Princess,” Flora agreed. She looked up at me for a long moment. “May the stars watch over you, Tess.”
“And you as well, Flora,” I replied.
Flora leapt from my palm, light as a dragonfly, and disappeared into the trunk of the silver tree again. I sighed and turned from the silver tree when another glow appeared from among its branches, and a familiar slight weight settled on my shoulder, small hands gripping the curve of my ear for balance.
“Wisp,” I said, but I wasn’t sure whether I was happy to see him.
“Tess-mortal,” Wisp said, his lovely voice heavy.
I sighed again. “You’re leaving me too?”
“I am a better messenger than a warrior,” Wisp replied frankly. “I fear I’d only be a bother to you on the road.”
“You’d never be a bother to me, Wisp,” I said, held-back tears curdling the edges of my voice. I’d known that Ramel was to escort the treacherous Vaelanmavar back to Darkhill, but now Flora and Forsythe and Wisp…it was almost too much.
Wisp patted the curve of my ear consolingly. “I will come to you and give you reports. I’m a Walker too, you know.”
I smiled a little. “Of course I know that.”
“We are not abandoning you, Tess-mortal,” Wisp said softly into my ear. “It is you we hold highest in our allegiances.”
“After Princess Lumina,” I corrected him softly.
He was silent for a long moment. “Princess Lumina has released us from her service. She demands no fealty from us while we fight this War of Shadows. She knows that you are the Bearer, Tess-mortal, and we must help you.”
I tried not to sound surprised. “I see.”
Wisp tugged at my hair, gently, teasingly. “You are shocked yet you do not want to show it.”
“Thanks for bringing that to light,” I said dryly.
Wisp chuckled. “You are the Bearer, Tess, but that doesn’t mean you cannot be surprised.”
“Good advice.” I smiled.
“So I will be your eyes and ears in Darkhill,” Wisp continued quietly into my ear.
“There’s a Sidhe Walker,” I told him, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Murtagh. He was sent by Mab to spy on us, here at the barracks. He agreed to help us, if he could.”
“I shall keep an eye out for him,” Wisp told me solemnly. He jumped from my shoulder, borne aloft by a slight breeze like a wisp of dandelion fluff. Glancing furtively around at the shadows of the forest’s edge, he said, “You know my True Name, Tess. If ever you are in dire need, call it and I will come.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Wisp.”
He gave me a jaunty, half-mocking salute. “Until we meet again!”
“Until we meet again,” I agreed with a grin, watching until the glow of his aura was lost among the shadows of the tree branches.
Chapter 5
My heart was undeniably heavy as I made my way back toward the smudge of smoke that I knew to be Vell’s fire. Forin and Farin were good and loyal scouts, but it had been Forsythe, Flora and Wisp who had accompanied me for the majority of my journey thus far. It stung a little to part ways with them.
“I told you she’d come back just as the meat was ready,” Vell said triumphantly as I approached. A sizzling haunch of venison lay cooling by the fire’s edge. Kavoryk had dragged three huge logs to form a rough triangle around the fire, stripping the branches from them so they could serve as benches. He sat on one of the logs, whittling at one long, straight branch with a huge black-handled knife. I glimpsed the glimmer of white teeth from amidst his dark beard.
Merrick sat on another log, sharpening his daggers on a whetting stone. I frowned. Something about that whetting stone was very familiar. I stepped closer.
“Merrick,” I said quietly, “what was the name of your shield-brother?”
He glanced up at me, his face smooth and expressionless. His silence was all the answer I needed.
“It was Moryn.” I sat down on the log beside the young Sidhe. “He let me borrow that whetting-stone, one night in the common room before the battle.”
Merrick paused as he drew the edge of his knife against the stone. He pressed his lips together. I laid my hand lightly on his shoulder for just a moment and cleared my throat.
“So,” I said to anyone who cared to listen, “Forin and Farin will be joining us as scouts.”
“The Small Folk are good scouts,” rumbled Kavoryk approvingly.
“We’re certainly going to be an interesting group,” Vell said from across the fire, where she was wrapping the preserved meat into packets.
“You’re already done smoking the meat?” I asked incredulously. “How did you do that?”
“Never ask a Northerner’s secrets,” admonished Vell, stacking the packets neatly atop one another.
I shrugged. “As long as it’s edible, you don’t have to tell me.”
Kavoryk finished skinning the bark from the long sturdy branch he held between his knees. He held it up in one huge hand, inspecting it, and then, after flicking off one last strip of wood with the tip of his knife, he stacked it at hi
s feet along a half-dozen other similarly stripped branches. “Arrows,” he grunted as he caught my curious glance.
“Good,” was all I could think to reply.
Merrick used his new-whetted blade to cut into the venison roast. He carved out three generous chunks. Kavoryk produced black bread from a pouch secreted somewhere on his giant person. I speared a chunk of meat on one of my daggers, the juices running down the blade and onto my hand. My stomach growled. I used a thick slice of black bread as a plate. The venison was wonderful, fresh and just rare enough. I told Vell as much, and she grinned at me, lips shiny with grease.
We did make a motley group, sitting around the fire as we shared our meal: the North-woman and the black wolf; the giant with his unruly tangle of hair and coal-black eyes; the slender young Sidhe, who looked barely old enough to wield a sword; and the mortal girl with the battered black sheath slung across her back. Forin and Farin made appearances, long enough to assure me that the Glasidhe did indeed eat meat. They took their own chunks of venison from the haunch, pieces almost as big as they were.
I wasn’t sure whether I was disappointed or relieved that Finnead didn’t join us by the fire.
Vell finished the last of her meat and chewed reflectively, leaning back on her elbows against the log and glancing up at the sun. “Past noon. We should get on the road.”
“Half an hour to gather any last supplies, and meet back here,” I said. I’d meant to frame it as a suggestion, but it came out as an order, and the members of my small group showed no surprise. They looked at me with their battle-hardened eyes and in that moment, I knew I was their captain, their leader, and they would follow me into the unknown wilds between our little camp and the Seelie Court. I tamped down a small twinge of uneasiness: who was I, to lead them into perilous lands? Who was I, to demand their allegiance and perhaps even their lives?
A tendril of the Caedbranr’s power curled through my chest, warming me against the doubt and fear rising like a tide against my ribs. You are my Bearer. The words were little more than a suggestion breathed into my thoughts, barely tinted with the ancient feeling of the Sword. But even so, I heard it, and I clung to those words and the feeling of its power curled like a sleeping cat beneath my breastbone. You are my Bearer, the whisper came again across my mind, and you will lead them. It is your birthright.
