Chaos Unbound (The Metis Files Book 2)

by Brian S. Leon

  “Down, up, make up your fucking mind already.” I hesitated to stand, so I expected him to hit me again. Instead, something grabbed my right arm in a solid, viselike grip and lifted me off the floor as if I weighed nothing. The grip was only painful because I was being lifted by it, not because it crushed my arm. And whatever lifted me was definitely the source of the lovely new smell. Has to be an ogre.

  “Why do all you ogres stink so badly?” I asked.

  The response was a belch, followed by a breath blown my way. Rotted fish wrapped in used diapers smelled like daisies by comparison. If I’d had anything in my stomach, I would have vomited. Instead, I retched, which brought a deep chuckle from above my right shoulder. Way above.

  I finally gained my composure as they pulled me around to face the door and shoved me forward. I stumbled but managed to get my feet back under me. I risked trying to open my eyes again. Everything was still out of focus, but the ambient light was faint enough that the pain wasn’t searing into my brain anymore.

  From what I could tell through half-squinted eyes, another tall, thin guard was waiting in the hall, dressed in black like the other two at the door. That made no less than five: three black-clad figures in front and the two ogres behind. The three lanky figures led me down a clean, featureless corridor wide enough for them to walk abreast. My vision began to become clearer as we walked. The smooth walls, floor, and ceiling of the corridor, awash in a soft amber light, were a dull, earthy tan. I couldn’t identify the origin of the flat illumination. My vanguard were bald-headed, dressed in long black greatcoats, and carrying poleaxes—Dreaichbard, elite royal guards of the Unseelie Court. The guard accepted only those of Sidhe ancestry, so there was no way the ogres behind me would be part of that unit.

  The only noise in the hall came from me scuffling along, trying not to bounce off the walls or fall while I shielded my eyes, desperate to conceal the wooden shivs I hid in my hands. I couldn’t even hear my babysitters breathing or their clothing rubbing. I watched for anything that suggested a way to escape. I began counting to myself to see how long we walked, but I never observed any doors or side passages—it was one long, monotonous tunnel.

  Based on my counting, we walked for at least eight minutes without turning or changing directions before we stopped at a dead end. The middle guard nodded his naked head, while the remaining two stood at arms. Then the wall melted away like ice under hot water, revealing a darkened space beyond. As soon as the opening was big enough for him to pass through, the lead guard entered, then the opening melted closed again.

  “Cool trick,” I mumbled, mostly to myself, blinking and rubbing at my eyes with the back of my fists.

  The statement earned me a smack on the back of the head. “You are better off not speaking until you are addressed, human,” said the ogre on my right, spreading his stinky breath.

  My eyes watered, and I couldn’t help scrunching up my face. I gasped and waved my closed hand in front of my face. It never failed to strike me that such a disgusting creature could speak so eloquently.

  “You know, we got these things called breath mints—” Like the last time, the smack wasn’t meant to hurt, only annoy, and it shut me up for a second.

  “Just saying. Because your breath smells like ass.”

  The next was much harder, and it caused me to flinch a bit.

  “I mean rotten, moldy ass—” I said then prepared for the blow.

  A solid shot to the ribs behind my right arm knocked the breath out of me, dropped me to my knees, and probably cracked a few ribs, too. While I was down, trying to suck air back into my lungs, I took a few seconds to take in my surroundings. In addition to the two Sidhe guards in front of me, only two stood behind me, dressed much more simply than the ones in front. The ogre on my right carried a cudgel the size of a small tree. The other creature on my left was smaller but every bit as heinous as the ogre. I stayed down on my knees as long as I could.

  “Get up,” the big ogre muttered, clearly trying to keep his voice down. He kicked me lightly to reinforce his point.

  Resist. I repositioned slightly as if to stand, but as I got to one knee, I shifted—quite painfully—to my right. With every ounce of strength I had, I drove my elbow into the big ogre’s groin, ready to jump forward at the two Dreaichbard with my wooden shivs when they attacked. But they didn’t.

  The sound that erupted from the rank creature’s quivering lips probably drove every dog within a thousand miles crazy. He collapsed in a heap next to me with a resonant thud, straining to breathe as he curled into a ball. His cudgel slammed to the ground next to him. I could feel the sneer form on my face as I contemplated grabbing the heavy wooden weapon while I braced myself for a beating that never came.

  Before I could get to my feet, a sonorous bellow came from the front of the group. “Stop!”

  I lifted my head to see the dead end had once again opened—an imposing figure dressed in elaborately decorated gold and dark-blue robes stood in the gap, with his pale left hand extended. The two guards in front of me remained frozen, each with his weapon at port arms.

  The imperious being in the doorway lowered his outstretched hand, and the upright ogre behind me snapped back into position. Toilet Breath remained in a fetal position behind me. I struggled back to my feet, wincing at the pain in my chest. The gray-skinned dignitary in the blue robe had to be some sort of Sidhe.

  The pair of guards in front of me parted, and a prod to my bruised ribs shoved me forward. I entered a massive, dimly lit cavern. My first assumption was that the place had been hewn by hand, like the hallway and my cell. Once I was fully inside, it became clear that the expansive cavern was a formal gathering place. Rows of benches, like giant steps, cut out of most of the cavern’s walls, extended at least halfway to the ceiling—and at the moment, the seats were occupied by dozens of beings, all focused on me.

  All of the seats faced a large stagelike area with three shallow alcoves set into the wall behind it. These recessed areas emitted the only light in the colossal space. At the center of the stage, three hooded figures sat at a huge wooden desk. Light from behind silhouetted the figures, but the central figure emanated waves of dark power like heat radiating from asphalt in summer. Not the most powerful Paran I’d ever seen, but still pretty damn strong, whoever it was.

  The two Dreaichbard escorted me to the center of the chamber, where they left me standing beside the ornately dressed gray fairy. Clearly, they didn’t consider me much of a threat at the moment, because I remained unshackled, the shivs still hidden in my hands. My two guards flanked the stage while the remaining one behind me retreated. A low din began to arise from the gathered crowd, but there was very little movement from them. It was unnerving, actually.

  My curiosity took over. I slowly surveyed the spectators, but details were impossible to make out in the low light. With the doorway I came through closed again, the room had no identifiable entrances or exits. And like my cell, the cavern had no visible ceiling. Staring up was like peering into a void, and it made me slightly dizzy.

  This has to be one of the sanctuaries of the Unseelie Court. All of a sudden, the middle of the three hooded figures pounded something on the great desk with booming cracks that echoed through the chamber like artillery fire. The light brightened and dimmed with each rap. The murmuring ceased instantly, and I could feel all eyes shift from me to the figures on the raised platform in front of me.

  The individual sitting to the left—the smallest one—stood and pulled back the hood. It was Belphoebe. At least I know someone at this party.

  She began to speak in the formal language of the Court—a complex and ancient tongue that I did not and would never understand. Before I could protest, the gray fairy next to me began translating.

  “Before us stands Diomedes, Son of Tydeus, and one of, and perhaps the greatest of, Humanity’s champions,”
he said. “And he has killed Warmaster Indronivay without provocation and, concordant with his race, in barbarous and cowardly fashion.”

  The crowd erupted in a deafening roar.

  “I did no such thing!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, but the cacophonous cheer drowned me out.

  Belphoebe allowed the peanut gallery to continue its grumbling for some time before she finally raised her hands to quiet them, and even then, it took several more seconds.

  Should I wait for a chance to defend myself, remaining respectful of the Unseelie Court, or should I take matters into my own hands, attack the first being I can reach, and end it all right now? Frankly, I wasn’t much good at waiting when my life was in the balance.

  “Diomedes’s actions against fae of both Courts are well known to us all, but his dealings with Queen Mab’s subjects are notoriously brutal,” she said as the translator continued.

  “What proof do you have that I killed Indronivay?” I screamed.

  My outburst caused another round of shrieks, and quite a few individuals rose from their seats. The translator took several steps away from me, either in surprise or to get out of the line of fire.

  The roar died instantly as the middle of the three figures at the desk rose. Even Belphoebe bowed her head in deference to the gaunt robed figure standing next to her. The pulsing aura of dark energy that surrounded the figure began to coalesce into an imposing shadow.

  “You misunderstand, human,” said the calm but resolute female voice from inside the hood. She spoke in clear, precise English and practically spat out the word human as though it tasted sour. Gold and silver embroidery along her dark-blue robe glinted in the glow of the room as she stood.

  I had no idea who this was, though I was pretty sure it wasn’t Mab. A mere human would never be important enough for her to appear in person. And, from what I’d been told, Mab’s presence would be almost blinding, given my gift of seeing beings in their true form. Mab, like her counterpart Titania of the Seelie Court, was pure power and energy. As I understood it, only a select few had ever actually seen either queen in person. All I knew for sure was whoever that was commanded serious respect.

  “You are not being tried for this crime,” the figure said.

  Not tried? Then why am I here?

  “You have been brought here so that Queen Mab’s justice may be served upon you for your transgressions against her and her subjects. You are guilty of this heinous and craven act against Her Majesty’s Warmaster.” She sat back down.

  Ask a stupid question…

  “With respect to this gathering, don’t I get a chance to defend myself? How do you know it was me?” I asked. On a calculated risk, I took a few sudden steps toward the three seated figures in outrage, and all at once, every single being in the venue stood. Everyone except the middle figure at the desk. The sudden motion of the crowd stopped me in my tracks. At least now I know I’ll probably be dead before I make it halfway to any one of these beings if I attack.

  “There is no defense for what you’ve done,” Belphoebe replied.

  “But I didn’t kill him. I swear on my honor,” I said. “What proof do you have that it was me?”

  At that moment, all attention but mine shifted to my right. The murmuring increased yet again, until I finally glanced around to see what was going on. An opening had appeared at the top of the bench seats far to my right, and two figures dressed in luminous emerald-green and gold robes were gracefully descending the broad, steplike seats to floor level. One was male, and one female. Both were quite tall. They radiated a warm glowing light that highlighted them like an otherworldly spotlight, and everyone they passed gave them room to do so comfortably.

  I recognized them both: Lord Elegast and Lady Amoret of the Seelie Court. Like Belphoebe, Elegast was the champion of his court and my counterpart among the fae. Lady Amoret was his consort—and Belphoebe’s sister.

  Elegast and I had a passable relationship. We had worked together harmoniously on numerous occasions—the last time was over sixty years ago. In the past, he was known among humans as the Fairy Knight and had even fought for and helped Charlemagne. At seven feet tall, he positively exuded charm from every inch as he strode confidently in the midst of his Unseelie brethren, throwing back his robes to uncover his brilliant yellow-and-white surcoat over a bloodred leather hauberk. His shoulder-length blond hair brushed back from the sharp features of his face as he crossed the floor.

  Amoret was easily as attractive, and like her sister, she was about my height, although her hair was golden blond. Under her dark-green outer robe, she wore a yellow dress of such fine material, it appeared weightless and sparkled as she glided next to Elegast. If he was power, then she was grace, and it was hard to tell which of the pair everyone was paying more attention to. Even I found myself mesmerized by their appearance.

  They stopped several yards away. Elegast winked at me then faced the three seated figures. Was that wink supposed to reassure me or condemn me? My mind raced back to our last encounter.

  The memory made me cringe. It was March of 1942 in Saint-Nazaire, France, during World War II. I was fighting with the British as part of the No. 2 Commando unit, and Elegast was working with the resistance. He helped the surviving four members of my unit and me escape to Spain, but not before one of my men shot the big fairy when he surprised us. It was a hectic and messy few minutes while I pried the lead bullet from his chest, covered in a light-purple ooze. Thankfully, humans and fairies didn’t always share similar anatomy in regard to our blood, hearts, or even the number of them. The lead had hurt him more than the impact itself. Could he still be holding a grudge? No. No way. But…

  “Forgive my intrusion upon these proceedings, Duchess Nicnevin, but Queen Titania sends her warmest regards.” Elegast dipped into a low and flamboyant bow. “And she wishes to make her interests in this matter known.”

  Amoret curtsied deeply next to him, tipping her head slightly as she did so.

  Nicnevin. That explains a lot. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she was the central figure. After all, she was one of Mab’s closest advisors and her proctor. And if that was indeed the case, then we were all fortunate she still had her hood up. Rumors were that she was not blessed with the typical fae condition of perfect features. In fact, if she walked into a cornfield, the crows would bring back the corn they’d stolen last year. But she was extremely powerful in her own right, capable of throwing around enough energy to light up a town. She certainly was not on Mab’s level, but few creatures of Earth were. But I couldn’t fathom why in the hell Titania was interested in my mess.

  Nicnevin stood and bowed in acceptance of Elegast’s presence.

  “Of course we welcome Titania’s huntsman,” Nicnevin said, shifting awkwardly as she sat back down. “But, pray tell, what interest does she have with these proceedings?”

  “Please forgive the intrusion, but my liege begs that you would allow me to elucidate her interests in these matters,” Elegast said, his head slightly bowed in respect as he addressed the duchess. With great flair, he spun around and presented his hand to Amoret in archaic fashion. She took it, and he escorted her to the nearest seat in the gallery, forcing several Unseelie fairies to move to accommodate her. Compared to the Unseelie fairies around her, she positively glowed. Again with exaggerated aplomb, Elegast returned to stand at my right hand, glancing at me with a grimace on his face before turning to address Duchess Nicnevin.

  “In matters pertaining to Diomedes and his attack on Queen Mab’s Warmaster, Lord Indronivay…” he said then mumbled, “the prick…” ever so softly out of the side of his mouth before continuing again. “Her Highness Queen Titania wishes to add that he has also attacked and killed Duke Goibniu, Her Majesty’s most favored bladesmith.”

  Again, the murmuring around the chamber flew into a full-blown roar, and my jaw dropp
ed to the floor. “What the fu…” was all I could manage. My heart all but stopped, my mind reeled, and Elegast just glanced at me and winked once more. I wanted to attack him right there, but I was too surprised to do anything but stand there like an idiot.

  Nicnevin began pounding on the desk, trying so hard to regain control that black bolts of energy flew out from under her hand. To her right, Belphoebe had the most evil grin on her face as our eyes met.

  I’m screwed. Big time.

  “Duchess!” Elegast screamed over the growing outrage. “Duchess! Please!”

  “Quiet!” Nicnevin roared, rattling the walls and floor. It was damned scary.

  “Lord Elegast, are you saying that this… human… is also responsible for a death in the Royal Court of Queen Titania, as well?” she asked.

  “Bullshit!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

  “Indeed. And my liege asks a small show of goodwill between the courts and requests that I might have a brief moment alone with this…” He glared at me in almost comedic disgust. “Pusillanimous caitiff.” Then he winked at me yet again.

  What the fuck is going on?

  “Time… alone?” she asked. “Why?”

  “Queen Titania acknowledges that this human is Mab’s prisoner, and we ask not that he be surrendered to us, only that we may execute some small measure of punishment for our loss before you carry out your sentence. It is a matter of honor to Her Majesty.” He made the statement readily, as if it’d been rehearsed.

  Nicnevin sat utterly motionless. I could only imagine the political implications the situation had for the two courts. The peace between them was always tenuous, and I doubted that Nicnevin wanted to start open war again. Sure, Elegast’s unannounced presence might have been in poor form, but I couldn’t imagine that such a simple request would be denied.