The Surah Stormsong Trilogy

by H. D. Gordon

  Last night she had allowed herself a breakdown. She had locked the doors to her chambers, added an extra Barrier Spell around the room for good measure, and just sat on her bed and cried into her pillows for what seemed like hours. The absence of her father in the castle was as noticeable as would be a twenty-degree drop in temperature. The place, with its high stone walls and endless labyrinth of rooms, felt empty and cold and a touch forsaken now that she was the last of the Stormsong line that would likely ever dwell between its walls. Or any walls, for that matter.

  The absence of her tiger in her bedside was just as felt, just as palpable. After an indeterminable amount of time, the tears finally ceased, and she’d drifted off to a mercifully deep and dreamless sleep. When she awoke this morning, she felt as ready as she supposed she would ever be to take on the world.

  A knock sounded at her door, and without turning, she flicked her wrist, knowing well who would be on the other side. Sure enough, Theo entered with a hesitation uncommon of him, as if he could sense her need to be approached with caution, despite the expressionlessness on her face.

  “Good morning, my queen,” the Head Hunter said with a bow.

  “Good morning, Theo,” she said, not completely comfortable with this informal way of addressing him, but remembering her promise to give him a real chance at being more than just a piece in her royal court.

  The address clearly pleased him, and a half smile pulled up his mouth, making his handsome face even more so. However, there was a seriousness to his gray eyes that Surah knew predated bad news. She took a deep breath and asked, “What’s the word?”

  The smile was gone from his face now. “Demons have been popping up at random in the small villages at the edges of Sorcerer Territory. As you ordered, I sent a good majority of the Hunters to protect them, and they’ve been very effective in doing so, but this has spread our manpower dangerously thin.”

  “How many Hunters are here protecting the city?” she asked.

  “One hundred, counting your personal guard, and myself.”

  She nodded. “Focus them on protecting the city, not the castle,” she said.

  Theo was silent a tick. “My queen… Is it wise to do so? That would leave us very vulnerable to attack.”

  Surah turned to face him now, her violet gaze inscrutable. “By ‘us’ you mean the royals, Hunter Gray.”

  It was not a question, but he answered anyway. “Well… yes… of course.”

  “Instruct them to take to their hideouts if they fear for their wellbeing.”

  This made him smirk, and she could see by the look in his gray eyes that her decisive way of handling things only deepened his affections for her. A voice that sounded eerily like that of her tiger’s spoke up in her head, telling her to tread lightly with the Head Hunter, to remember that when a woman played with a man’s emotions, she tended to end up absorbing the blunt end of his darker side.

  “I expect the lords and ladies will not be pleased with that,” he told her, not in a manner that suggested judgment of the decision, just as a matter of fact.

  She couldn’t help a small smile at this, though there wasn’t the slightest uplift in her heart. “No, I suppose they won’t.” She thought for a moment. “If any of them complain too much, send Noelani and Lyonell to double protection.”

  Now Theo looked displeased. “My queen, that would leave you without protection.”

  In answer, Surah went to her floor length mirror, the rounded corner of which was draped with her long cloak, in which all of her weapons were stored. Before throwing it over her shoulders, she held out her bare arms, which were marked from wrist-to-shoulder with small, black, Magic tattoos that were shaped like small lightening strikes. There were too many of them for her to even know what they numbered, but both her and the Head Hunter knew well that each one represented a life Surah had taken.

  She slung her cloak over her shoulders, her eyes never leaving his. “I’ll need you to stay here and hold down the fort, Theo.” She came forward and took his hands into hers when he looked apprehensive, and again that small warning voice spoke up in her head. “Will you stand beside me as you’ve promised?” she asked, her head tilting back in order to meet his eyes.

  He only hesitated a moment, then the Head Hunter gave a slight nod. “Do I get to know where you’ll be running off to?” he asked, his voice a little huskier with her so near.

  The lie came easily. Really, it was only half a lie, and she would never know if Theodine Gray totally bought it that day, or if he just truly was done fighting her, prepared to let her make her own decisions and see just where they led.

  “Only Dark Lords can command Demons and open portals into our world,” she said, “and there’s only one Dark Lord I can think of that dislikes my family enough to help the Fae Queen and Black Heart with whatever they’re planning.” She tied her cloak around her shoulders and back, running her fingers over her silver sais tucked neatly into their folds, taking comfort in the feel of them there. “So I suppose I’ll be paying a visit to that Dark Lord,” she said. “Have a word or two with him.”

  His breathing was still coming shorter, but his eyes were narrowed slightly in obvious disapproval of this plan. “The Underworld isn’t a place to be wandering alone,” he said.

  “You mean, it isn’t a place for me to be wandering alone.”

  He shook his head, and she couldn’t help but see the earnestness in his gaze. “No, I mean it isn’t a place for anyone to be wandering alone.”

  “But you’ll stay while I go?” she asked.

  Theo sighed, and with a touch of wariness, tucked a lock of her lavender hair behind her ear. “I’ll do what you’ve asked of me, my queen,” he said. Then: “Is that the only place you’ll be going?”

  Here was the lie. The half of her story that she suspected they both knew was untrue. “That’s right,” she said. “To the Underworld, and then back here to take action accordingly.”

  Whether or not the Head Hunter believed this, she would never know, because all he did was nod and bow deeply, kissing her hand before taking his leave. She watched him go, the tall, arched double doors of her chambers clanging shut behind him, wondering if he had read the silent words in the air as clearly as she had.

  To the Underworld, yes. But also to Charlie Redmine. First, to Charlie.

  CHAPTER 18

  CHARLIE

  When he awoke he found he was alone in Aria’s apartment. He sat up, feeling more rested than he would’ve expected, staring out the two tall windows in the east wall to see that he had slept a good portion of the day away.

  He stood, stretched, and found his way to the bathroom, which was just a tiny square of space with an old sink, shower, and toilet. There was a note stuck to the time-stained mirror hanging above the sink. It read: Hey, old man! Go ahead and take care of your business, and shower while you’re at it. I’ll be back when I’m back. ~Aria

  Charlie plucked the note from the mirror, shaking his head. Deciding the idea of a hot shower was too tempting to pass up, he stripped out of his clothes and hopped in, turning the temperature to as scalding as he could stand.

  The small wounds all over his body burned as the water hit them, making him cringe as he watched the scarlet of his own blood circle the drain at his feet. Once he was finished, he stepped out and dried off with a towel Aria had set out for him. He pulled his jeans on, slung his shirt over his bare shoulder, and stepped out of the bathroom, drying his now too-long hair with the towel.

  While he was making himself at home, he decided to see if the girl had any tea or even coffee. He was in the middle of making a cup when a breeze from one of the tall windows in the east wall brushed by him. Charlie’s heartbeat kicked up in pace before he turned to see Aria climbing in through the window, a small gasp escaping her as she took in the sight of him.

  He suppressed a sigh, regretting the decision not to put his shirt back in, despite it being filthy and in tatters. The Halfling girl came forward slow
ly, dropping the bag she’d been holding in her hand without a thought, and approaching Charlie with a look of sympathy that he’d learned to hate over the years.

  She stared at his bare chest, his shoulders, and shamelessly moved in a circle to study his back. “So many scars,” she said, almost as if to herself. When she looked up at him, her emerald eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “So, it’s true, then. You did survive three terms in Contrain.”

  It was not a question, and even if it had been, he would not have answered it. He moved away from her in a guarded and dismissive way that had become second nature. “I don’t suppose you got any clothes that would fit me?”

  Aria’s eyebrows arched, and she couldn’t seem to keep her gaze from all the scarring on his golden skin, but she wandered over to the bag she’d dropped earlier, pulled out a plain black t-shirt, and tossed it over to him.

  She continued to watch him as he pulled the shirt over his head, the fabric sliding easily over the lean, strong muscles in his chest and waist. Leaning against the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, she shook her head slowly, a slight smile pulling up her lips.

  “She’s coming after you, alright,” she mumbled.

  Charlie suppressed a half-annoyed, half-amused shake of his head. The girl had an odd way of making light of things. “You’re makin’ this whole thing a bit uncomfortable, you know that?”

  Aria picked up the cup of hot tea he’d made for himself and took a sip, as if people just left random cups of tea around for her to drink all the time, and waved her free hand at this. “People tell me that a lot,” she said, and shrugged. “I’m never quite sure what they mean.”

  “How many of your kind are there?” he asked.

  Another shrug. “Not many,” Aria said. “The Fae don’t mix with humans the way your kind and some of the others do. I was born for a purpose.” As she said this last part, her shoulders sank just the tiniest of fractions, as if this were a statement that brought her heartache to speak. A less perceptive person than Charlie would’ve missed it. The girl was young, but she was good at hiding emotions.

  He steered away from the subject in consideration of her not-so-obvious feelings. “So what’s your stake in this?”

  Aria tossed her leather jacket aside and picked up some fingerless gloves from the coffee table, sliding them over her small hands. Then she went to a metal workout bar that was mounted on the western wall and jumped up, grabbing it with both hands. She began to knock out pull-ups the way old Sorcerers tend to knock back beers. She carried on the conversation with Charlie as she did so, not in the least out of breath.

  “My stake in this is the same as my stake in all things,” she answered, as if this explained everything. She finished out five more pull-ups—making fifteen in all—and jumped down, turning back to face him. “You were there during The Great War, weren’t you?” she asked, lifting her arm up to wipe a bit of sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her t-shirt. “You were alive during the mass death and genocide, through the battles and the chaos that reigned so long afterward, until The Great Compromise and Dividing of the Territories.”

  Charlie crossed his arms over his wide chest. “You speak of these things like someone who definitely did not live them, but rather someone who was told stories as a child,” he replied.

  Aria’s head tilted back, and she brushed some red-brown hair out of her face. Her green eyes were guarded again. “I’m sorry,” she said, and turned around, hopping up onto the pull-up bar again, knocking the exercise out at an even faster pace now. “I can tend to be brash and insensitive… or at least that’s what I’m told. I’m working on it.”

  Charlie’s stance relaxed, and he went to take a seat on the couch again. He rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. “You don’t got anything to be sorry about,” he said at last. “You helped me outta a sticky situation back there, and now you’re lettin’ me hide out in your apartment in Blue Hook, New Jersey because not only am I an enemy to the Sorcerer Kingdom, my own brother has teamed up with a crazy Fae with diabolical plans of overthrowing a queen I happen to love and take over Territory I love almost as much.” He paused. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m a little on edge.”

  There was a moment of silence where Aria only stared at him, one fine brow arched, and then the both of them burst out laughing.

  “Well,” she said, after the laughter subsided, “at least your life’s not boring.”

  He shook his head, a half-smile pulling at his lips. “No, it ain’t,” he agreed, smile slipping away. “But you still haven’t told me anything about anything, Aria. For all I know, that’s not even your name, and this could be some Magic Spell reality, rather than a town on a coastal part of the human world.”

  Aria’s signature smirk was still stuck on her face. She hopped up on the countertop on which she’d been leaning and crossed her legs beneath her. The girl never seemed able to stay in one place for too long, but instead just bounced from here to there. “How do you know you’re in a coastal town? Did you leave the apartment?”

  Now it was Charlie’s turn to smirk. “You’ve been around humans too long. I can smell the salt in the air, same as you.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Aria is my real name, and this is a coastal town in the human world. Beyond that, all you need to know is that I’m going to help you reunite with your beloved queen, and hopefully stop Tristell from causing a war.”

  He blinked at her, half impressed, half in disbelief. “Okay… but why?”

  Sighing, Aria leaned forward and held his gaze. “Because war isn’t good for anyone, Charlie Redmine, and I don’t need to be old enough to have lived through the last one to know that,” she snapped. “I told you, I was born with a purpose. And if you must know, that purpose is keeping the peace for Faevian kind.”

  He was silent a moment, mulling this over. He supposed it really didn’t matter what her reasons were. What options did he really have? The human world, as undesirable as it was for most of his kind, was probably the safest place for him right now.

  “You’re smarter than you look,” he told her. “You know that?”

  Aria rolled her eyes, the joking half-smile on her face again. “People tell me that a lot, too.”

  “So, Halflings are born to be peace-keeping liaisons between the worlds… Does that sum it up?”

  She shrugged, and he thought that it must be a default gesture of hers, as it was for many teens of all races. “It sounds more exciting than it is. Most of the time I’m just here sitting at my post, living like a human among humans.”

  “There are worse lives to live,” Charlie observed.

  “And clearly more exciting ones as well,” she countered.

  “So the plan is to wait here until someone comes for me?”

  She nodded. “Your excitement mirrors my own,” she said, getting down from the counter. “If you’re hungry, you can help yourself to whatever you want in the fridge, but you gotta be quiet. I have an essay due tomorrow.”

  “You attend the human schools?” he asked, fascinated and slightly bewildered. It seemed such an odd way to live for someone who knew of their supernatural origins. There were plenty of Halflings of all races in the human world, but many of them never knew what they were; they just stumbled through life suspecting they were a little different than everyone else around them. He suddenly felt sad for the girl. Aria was forever a stranger in a world full of strangers.

  But if it was as sad and lonely of a life as Charlie expected it to be, the young lady had become a master at hiding it. She sighed. “Yes, genius. I attend the human schools. I eat the human food, and wear the human clothes, and rescue stupid Sorcerers who ask stupid questions from sticky situations.” She grabbed a backpack that looked as if it weighed a ton from a hook by the door and tossed it down on the coffee table. “I also enjoy painting, writing poetry, and ninja training. Anything else?”

  Charlie didn’t know whether or not to laugh at this, becau
se he had no idea what a ‘ninja’ was, so he just held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I get it. You want me to shut up and sit tight.”

  Her pretty face lit up. She clapped her hands in a way that oddly reminded him of the Fae Queen. “We have a winner! Jimmy, tell him what he’s won!”

  “You’re very strange, Aria Fae,” he said.

  “Another thing I hear often,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “And how do you know my last name?”

  Charlie picked up a letter that had been sitting on the counter in the kitchen. “Fae kind don’t have last names,” he said, “so you must’ve chosen ‘Fae’ as your last name.”

  Aria had flopped down onto the couch and pulled several large books out of her overstuffed backpack. They were spread out all around her, and a silver computer was open on her lap. “Don’t be trying to psychoanalyze me, grandpa,” she said. “That’s my job.”

  Charlie stood where he was for a moment, but decided there really wasn’t much else to be done on his part at the moment. He would listen to the young Halfling girl and wait for a little while, but not because he was waiting for Surah to rescue him, but because he needed some time to formulate a plan. After all that had happened, after all these years of hoping Michael could change, of having his trust and his love for his older brother betrayed again and again, a slow realization, one that took centuries to really descend, had finally settled over him.

  Michael Redmine could not be saved, because Michael Redmine no longer existed. Though it had taken Charlie longer than it probably should have to really see it, to really come to terms with it, there was no way of avoiding the truth of it now.

  Michael Redmine, the older brother who had chased away Charlie’s nightmares as a child, who had knocked out bigger boys in the schoolyards in Charlie’s defense, who had gone hungry on many a night in their youth after The Great War so that Charlie could put in his belly whatever little bit of food they’d managed to get a hold of… That Michael, he was dead.

  And a vengeful, cold-hearted Dark Sorcerer had taken his place. Black Heart, they called him, and Charlie knew for certain it was a name that fit.