He closed his eyes briefly, and Eristta had to suppress a giggle. His cock had swelled, the curved tip bulging at only the idea of them being together.
Eristta moved in closer, her breasts nearly touching the skin of the faerie’s chest. “All you have to do is take me to her, Reisell. I will see to the rest. How long has it been since she’s enjoyed the artful pleasure of an elfin princess?”
Reisell shuddered, and drew in a breath. “Too long,” he sighed. His wings snapped open and before Eristta could respond, she found herself swooped into strong arms. Within a breath, they spiraled down the softly lit tunnels of the underground Faerie Realm. So fast they traveled, even with Eristta’s magick, she was unable to blaze a trail. Getting back could prove bothersome.
They fluttered to a stop in a large cavern. A soft, internal glow suffused the very walls of stone, making it seem as if they were indeed outside, yet in a world of haze and muted light. Eristta could taste moisture on her tongue and feel it brushing softly against her skin.
Her thoughts went once more to the regal face she had seen before the elf-willow had so rudely forced her entrance. Red Claw. He’d come. But too late. Once she’d gotten inside, she could not risk forcing an exit, as she may not have been able to trick her way inside again. And as Darous had reminded her, it was a good thing they were not traveling into the Faerie Realm together. What needed to be done, Eristta had to do on her own.
It didn’t keep her from feeling that empty pang. That disturbing hollow that had made a home within her from the day the shaman had rejected her.
Reisell reluctantly released her, and Eristta stepped away, chiding herself for not keeping her thoughts on the task at hand. “Where have you brought me?” she asked, taking in as much of the misty realm as her senses would allow. The ground was soft and springy beneath her feet, the air warm and rich with the scent of—
She’s here.
Eristta quickly reinforced her shields as the scent of honeysuckle and primrose washed over her in a fragrant wave.
“Why have you brought her here?” came Ferra’leen’s sharp voice.
Reisell’s face paled. “She-she has come to offer herself to you, my queen.”
A cutting laugh echoed, and Eristta sidled further away from Reisell. Ferra’leen sounded more than simply peeved…she sounded dangerously pissed.
“Fool! I should have realized you were too insipid to do the simple task I set you to. Be gone!”
The faerie cartwheeled backward before catching and righting himself midair. Even from a distance, Eristta could read the shock and hurt on the young faerie’s angular features. It was obvious that his mistress had never treated him thusly before.
He opened his mouth as if to protest, but thought better of it and with a snap of his wings, turned and left by way of one of the many tunnels that lined that cavern’s glowing walls.
Alone. With Ferra’leen.
Eristta turned in the direction of Ferra’leen’s voice and scent, every instinct finely attuned. The mists parted to reveal the faerie queen. She was at her full height, hovering just above the ground. Her silver hair snapped around her body like angry snakes, her slanted eyes narrowed, her crimson lips pursed. “Quite impressive, Eristta. Using Araenin as you did. He’s so unremarkable, it’s amazing you were able to detect him at all.”
Eristta lowered her hand and moved forward. “Not so difficult. Firewhits cannot only detect great passion, but also great despair.” It was no secret that Eristta traveled with Darous, and that she made use of his special abilities. There was little danger for the firewhit in Ferra’leen’s kingdome. Faerie considered his kind primitive cousins, and while they felt themselves far superior, a lingering superstition existed about harming one. It would be as if they were destroying their own ancient bloodline.
Darous flitted free of Eristta’s hair and after bowing to the faerie queen, zoomed away into the mists as Eristta had instructed him to do before entering the realm. “It’s only you and I now, Ferra’leen,” Eristta spoke softly. “There was once a time when we considered each other…acquaintances.”
Ferra’leen snorted and ran a hand through her unruly locks. “More like companions in mischief.”
Eristta smiled. “Well, yes. That too.”
After an artful sigh, Ferra’leen motioned for Eristta to follow, then disappeared into the mists. Eristta hurried to catch up.
“I suppose you have come to find out where my loyalties lie, and why I’ve been such an imperious, unruly bitch?” the faerie said, the sheer strips of colored silk twining around her smooth, slender legs as they walked.
“I had wondered,” Eristta replied as she glanced at Ferra’leen out of the corner of her eye. While Ferra’leen had never been a fast friend, there was a time when they had counted on one another for companionship. They’d been equals, ready to challenge the world and bend it to their will. But over the past century, embroiled in the affairs of their own Kingdomes, there had been little time or inclination for mischievous fun.
After Ferra’leen’s mother’s disappearance, relations between Faerie and Elves had deteriorated. One day the queen was simply gone. No explanation. No clues as to where or why. Very similar to what had happened to Eristta’s father.
And brother.
“Ferra’leen. My father. He’s disappeared.”
The two stopped and faced one another. Silver hair settled around Ferra’leen’s slim body as Eristta’s own silken locks went still. It was a risk, telling the faerie queen. It was critical information that they had worked to suppress in their search for help. They’d been telling their allies that he had taken ill—much like the lie that had brought them into the trap at Whitecliff two months past.
“Eristta,” Ferra’leen said with a temperate sigh. “I did not know that.”
It was obvious from her tone that she was peeved at not having already known. Apparently Ferra’leen’s spies had not met with much success as of late. Eristta shook herself mentally. She had to take the chance. There was no other way.
“That’s not all. My brother Vigil is also missing, as are the bulk of the Night Elfin forces, except for a select few, as well as the Whitecliff citizenry—as a whole.”
Her revelation was met with wide amethyst eyes and a moment of shocked silence. Followed by Ferra’leen’s narrowed gaze. “Well, I wasn’t aware of that, either.”
Eristta smiled half-heartedly. “We have retained a few key people. Their shielding spells have been exceptional.”
Ferra’leen tapped her pointed chin. “I had heard that the women and children had been taken by Garethan.”
“Yes,” Eristta said softly. “We will rescue them, but before that, we must drive Garethan’s forces away from Tee’amon.”
Ferra’leen laughed sharply, her features looking harsh in the dim light. “That’s not possible, Elf.”
Fingers of ice inched up Eristta’s spine. “With your armies, it is.”
The faerie shook her head, her hair snapping around her body once more. “No, no.” Her wings folded against her back. “You do not understand.” She leaned in until Eristta could see the horrifying depth of near madness in the faerie queen’s heliotrope eyes. “I have no armies, girl. There are no hordes of Faerie warriors ready to raise sword and magick in defense of their queen and kingdome.”
“What?” Eristta whispered, unbelievingly. Faerie were known for reproducing at will, oftentimes to the detriment of their race. Hence the many stories of faeries traveling to their sister world and secluding themselves in wooded glades and under mounds to help relieve the strain. Faerie armies had always been a great source of pride in the land of Fey, which is why they were a key ally. Fortunately, they’d never been a power-hungry race.
Ferra’leen gripped Eristta’s arm, and unfolding her luminescent wings, shot straight into the air, dragging Eristta along with her. Within seconds they had spiraled down a large tunnel, then out into an adjoining cavern. The ceiling hung with massive crystal spears th
at glowed a ghostly green in the dim light.
Holding Eristta around her waist so that she could look straight down, Ferra’leen dipped low. “Look, Elf. See my great army.”
As her gaze adjusted to the odd lighting, Eristta gaped, not quite believing her eyes. The floor of the colossal cavern was covered with supine male and female faeries. They were laid out respectfully, each on their backs with their wings neatly folded around them like iridescent blankets, their arms peacefully crossed on their chests. There were hundreds…nigh thousands of them.
“Oh, Ferra’leen,” Eristta said, her heart hammering. “Are they—”
“Dead?” Ferra’leen croaked. “No. If they could only be so fortunate.”
“What then?”
“Infected by something…a spell. Those of us left have been unable to unravel its true design or origin, though not from lack of effort.”
Eristta felt the faerie sag, her body and mind at their breaking point. She flew them to a narrow shelf above the bodies and landed. Stepping out of her limp arms, Eristta walked to edge and knelt, looking down. “Why didn’t you say something, Ferra’leen? Why didn’t you ask for help?”
The faerie snorted. “Help? What could you do, Elf, when the greatest amongst us are impotent in the face of this mystery?”
Refraining from pointing out how bigoted Ferra’leen’s thoughts were, Eristta stood and turned, her expression betraying no emotion. “When. When did this happen?”
“Four moon cycles past. We hold them here in the crystal chamber to maintain their life force while we work to unravel the mystery and restore them. While at the same time, maintaining our illusion of power. You see why I am unable to take sides. To declare allegiance would expose us. Make us vulnerable. It would be the beginning of the end of the Faerie Kingdome.”
Her last words were spat out, and Eristta’s heart ached for the woman she once considered a friend. She strode over and placed a hand on Ferra’leen’s slim shoulder. “You are not alone. We too have lost nearly everything, but we will not be ground into dust without resisting. Whether it is one Night Elf or a thousand, we will fight in whatever way we can. As can you, Ferra’leen.”
As Ferra’leen’s gaze rose, a glint of surety sparked. “I know this,” she whispered. “I am doing what I can. You must trust me.”
Eristta pursed her lips. Trust the faerie queen? It was an odd request. A dangerous one. “Tee’amon must not fall, Ferra’leen. Is there a way for you to help us in this?”
Ferra’leen smiled slyly, looking more like her old self. “Perhaps. But the help you need lies not with me.” Bringing her magick to bear, the faerie queen raised a golden hand and wrote in the air. The looping symbols glowed violet, and Eristta recognized them as ancient Aquier.
“Can you read these?” Ferra’leen asked as she completed the last spiraled character and stepped back.
Eristta nodded, then started from right to left, the manner in which Aquier was read. “The prophecy as given by Dietramon: ‘Call to ancient powers three. One of fire, one of air, and one of the eternal sea. Bonded they will shatter that which ties all worlds to the void.’”
She stared until the words dissolved. “I’ve not heard this prophecy,” Eristta said, gazing at Ferra’leen.
The faerie shrugged artfully. “Few have. The prophecies were given to each of the seven Kingdomes, but their words have been forgotten, buried, or purposely hidden.” Her wings shivered behind her and the air crackled. “Until now.”
Ferra’leen looked up, and Eristta followed her gaze. Directly above them hung a massive amethyst crystal, twice the size of any man or elf. At its heart was a shock of gold, and there, twining within, were the very words Ferra’leen had drawn into the air.
“What does it mean?” Eristta asked softly, her mind filled with disturbing images of fire, wind and a turbulent sea.
The faerie queen chuckled. “That is for you to decipher.”
“What?” Eristta planted her hands on her bare hips. “I am not, nor have I ever been, a Hierophant content with studying incomprehensible text in the hopes of finding a shard of truth. Ferra’leen, there must be something else you can—”
“Silence!”
The faerie’s cutting shout echoed throughout the cavern, causing the crystals to glow brighter as if in response to her emotions. “If you choose not to heed my advice, so be it.” She flung out a hand, pointing at Eristta’s chest. “Perhaps the most important question you should be asking now is how you might achieve your heart’s desire.”
Puzzlement creased Eristta’s smooth brow and her mouth dropped. What on Tir na n-Og is Ferra’leen ranting about? Slamming her mouth shut as she looked out over the carpet of faerie bodies in the cavern below. My heart’s desire? She has become seriously unbalanced. Understandable, really…
Looking back, Eristta gasped. The faerie queen was gone. Behind where she had stood was a softly lit tunnel.
Eristta grimaced, then strode through the opening. “I must get to word to Serosen,” she whispered to the sage green walls. “Darous!”
“No need to shout, Earie.” A pinprick of yellow light zoomed toward her, stopping a hairsbreadth from her nose. “Well? Is her high and mighty helping us or not?”
“Not,” Eristta grumbled. “Except for an obscure prophecy, I leave with nothing.”
The firewhit’s brows rose. “Prophecy? What prophecy?”
Eristta waved a hand and started down the tunnel. “What does it matter? It’s useless. Ambiguous at best, incomprehensible at its worst.”
Darous kept pace near Eristta’s cheek, eyes wide. “Do not say such things. The prophecies have power. If you disregard them out of hand, there could be…” The firewhit paused, then flew closer to her ear, “Consequences.”
Eristta fixed Darous with an indulgent look. “I didn’t know you were the superstitious sort.”
“Iyee!” Darous placed tiny hands over Eristta’s pink lips. “I beg you, speak no more disrespect.”
For a moment, Eristta was shocked into silence. She’d never seen Darous act this way. Usually he was the one to attack everything with skepticism and barely controlled mirth.
Except one other time.
Eristta thought back to the moment when Selena had nearly blasted them all to bits. Darous had survived—barely—and yet would not betray what he knew about Serosen’s new bride. He’d held her true nature in confidence until the very end when the Phoenix revealed herself.
And the firewhit conclave…they had acted as if they had been expecting the Phoenix’s return. As if it had been foretold.
Eristta gently pushed Darous’s hands aside. “Apologies, firewhit. I meant no disrespect. It’s just that—” Running a hand through her hair, Eristta moaned. “I have accomplished nothing, Darous, nothing! How will I tell my brother that there will be no help from the Faerie Realm—ever. She said as much! Which means there is no way for us to save Tee’amon.”
“Those were not the faerie’s words,” came a deep rumble.
Eristta spun, her gaze widening. “You! How did you—”
The shaman advanced. Shivers started at Eristta’s feet and traveled all the way to the top of her head as she stared at Red Claw standing before her like an ancient God. He reached out a hand, nearly touching her cheek. “She did not say she would not help.”
Chapter Five
Eristta stood frozen, her emotions tangled tight. “She has no army,” she said breathlessly, fixating on the shaman’s calloused fingertips.
The shaman smiled and stepped closer, his hand coming to rest against her cheek. “One does not always need an army to win a war.”
Eristta’s gaze snapped to Red Claw’s chiseled jaw, then deep-set eyes. She fought the electric sensations pulsing through her at his touch. “Pretty words, but words will not save us, shaman.”
Sighing, he dropped his hand, leaving a burning trail behind. “No. Not simply speaking them. But words do have power. The thoughts and emotions they invoke can ch
ange destinies.”
He spoke the last with something akin to regret—or trepidation. Eristta wasn’t sure which, but as always, confusion brimmed within her at his words. Darous kept his distance, knowing the foul temperament Eristta usually showed in the shaman’s company was likely to surface at any moment.
“I don’t have time for word games, prophecies, or false hope,” Eristta said as she sidled around Red Claw and started back down the tunnel. “Ferra’leen will not be helping us. We must find another way. What other fey creatures can we appeal to for support?” Eristta swallowed the lump in her throat. “Surely there must be—”
She looked up to see Darous holding out both hands in front of her. Glaring, Eristta stopped and raised her brows as the agitated firewhit flitted in front of her. “You must tell me the prophecy, Eristta. All of it. Do not leave out a word.”
Eristta thought to protest, but knew it would be a losing battle. “Oh for Balor’s sake, it said: ‘The prophecy as given by Dietramon—’”
“Dietramon!” squealed Darous, wringing his hands against his bare chest.
Eristta sighed. “Yes, Dietramon. You know of this prophet?”
The firewhit nodded wordlessly, then waved his hand for her to go on.
Barely able to keep from rolling her eyes, Eristta continued, “Call to ancient powers three. One of fire, one of air, and one of the eternal sea. Bonded, they will shatter that which ties all worlds to the void.”
Silence. Eristta shook her head and looked to Red Claw for support. The shaman was still, his gaze locked on Darous as if waiting for the firewhit to declare secret knowledge. This time Eristta did roll her eyes. “It was written in the heart of an amethyst crystal that hung suspended from the cavern. Ferra’leen said that the other Kingdomes had been given prophecies as well, but that they had been forgotten or buried. I’ve never heard of such a thing in all my lessons, and Ser was a task master when it came to studying ancient knowledge.”
Night Elves 2: Dangerous Obsession Page 4
