by Leah Cutter
No one had time to maintain such things. First, Queen Adele had assigned too many workers toward her great machine. After she’d left, the fairies had started to lose hope.
So many had died because they’d lost their dreams.
Sebastian prayed as he walked, his wings fluttering and waving behind him, the yellow streamers attached to them sparkling. He blessed the ground, brightening and aligning the stones while at the same time softening the earth, making the path easier to walk on.
He knew it was a useless gesture. No one would maintain his work. The path would become merely utilitarian in a few weeks.
If they were still here.
Movement caught Sebastian’s eye. Fairies flowing out of what had once been the grand entrance to the kingdom.
What were they carrying with them?
Sebastian flew quickly over to where the warriors gathered. A long-unused fountain stood just inside the opening that led to the outside world, the white stone cracked, the basin filled with dead leaves.
The warriors put down their burden next to the fountain, then stood guard over it, as if they were protecting a precious treasure.
Sebastian nearly shouted when he saw that they had brought a human male into the kingdom.
When he looked more closely, he recognized the human Tinker, who still lay unconscious, caught in a dreaming spell cast by one of the fairies.
“What in Hecate’s name are you doing, bringing him here?” Sebastian demanded.
One of the male warriors stepped forward. “Our instructions were to keep him safe.”
Sebastian snorted. These fools. Why did they think that down here was safe?
“Where’s your leader?” Sebastian asked. Though he wasn’t royalty, he could still express his opinion, strongly, about this idiocy.
“Racanta is still on the surface,” the warrior said. “Dealing with the mother.” He paused, then added quietly, “She is demanding to be brought to her son.”
Sebastian blinked. It made sense for a mother to want to be near her son.
It wasn’t safe down here in the kingdom. Who knew when the Old One would attack again?
Then again, it wasn’t necessarily safer on the surface.
“Let her come,” Sebastian said. “I will look after her.”
“Really?” the warrior asked, seeming shocked.
So few humans had ever visited their kingdom. The Tinker had, as well as the Maker. But that had been all.
“Yes, bring her down,” Sebastian said. “I will guarantee her safe passage.”
He knew that he might be condemning her to death down here, buried alive in this kingdom that had once been so vibrant but now felt like a tomb.
However, if she survived…it would be nice for someone, even a human to see their glory, to bear witness to their great works.
Before they all died.
Ivan held his ax at the ready in his right hand and his shield buckled on his other arm. The men around him were just as well armed, just as ready. They waited, crouched down, illusions casting thick shadows to hide them in the rough cave that they’d dug out of the loose rock and rubble.
The scouts had reported a serious flaw in the fairies’ defenses. It appeared there had been some sort of earthquake many years before. The lower levels of the fairy kingdom had never been properly rebuilt. In particular, the area right below the palace was vulnerable. The dwarves had been able to easily make their way through the rubble and enter the palace itself.
The fairies had dug deep, but not deep enough. Their greatest defense, being underground and safely tucked away from all who might harm them, was about to become their greatest weakness.
The scouts finally gave the go-ahead. The teams above ground were in place. They couldn’t cover every escape route that the fairies had—the fairies were worse than rabbits that way—but Ivan had teams at all the major exits.
Ready to kill all of the fleeing fairies that they could.
Ivan stepped out of the tiny rock cavern into the fairy tunnels, sneering. Sure, they were pretty. White plaster had been smoothed over the rough rock. The tunnels were also broader and wider than a dwarvish tunnel.
But cracks marred the walls. Chunks of plaster, fallen from the roof, covered the floor.
A dwarven tunnel would have withstood whatever cataclysm had taken place, Ivan was certain.
Why did they have to build the tunnels so damn tall, though? Hell, a human could walk through them. Was that so the fairies could fly through them easily?
Ivan hefted his ax, grasping the end of the handle so he could touch the ceiling.
Flying away would do the damned fairies no good. Ivan could still reach them.
The men behind him chuckled, a chilling sound. They’d obviously been wondering the same thing. And were just as determined as he was to sate their axes in fairy blood.
The tunnels wound to an open area. Ivan smelled stale machine oil still lingering.
The first room they came too had once held a workshop. Black blast marks covered the walls, and the floor still held trails of scorched flame.
Had the fairies brought about their own destruction? Created the machine that caused so much damage in the tunnels beyond?
Kostya had reported that he’d helped destroy a machine that the fairies had built. That had been why he’d needed so much surgery, spent so long with the skin weavers, creating his new face.
It was good to see that not everything Kostya had said was a lie.
The workshop still had clockwork parts hanging on the walls, gears and levers, springs and wire. Ivan would have to remember this place, come back and loot it later. It was unlikely to have as many traps as Kostya’s piles of treasure.
Just outside the workshop, Ivan found a grand staircase, leading up to the palace. The air smelled stale and dust covered the stairs. No one had been down this way in a long while.
Ivan stopped at the bottom of the staircase, letting his men gather around him. He had a dozen of his most hearty warriors at the front with him, along with that idiot bard. Over three hundred dwarven warriors stretched back along the tunnel.
Sure, the fairies outnumbered them. The point wasn’t to massacre all the fairies in their great underground cavern, but to shock them, drive them up out of the ground. Break their spirits and not give them a chance to regroup. Hound them down here as well as up above.
He turned and grinned at those closest to him. His men all gave him the same bloodthirsty grin back.
They didn’t shout. They didn’t give thanks for the battle they faced. They silently shook their axes, then turned as one and raced up the stairs.
The time for war had come.
Chapter 6
Brett paused outside the back entrance to the fairy kingdom. Just a few feet to his left was the edge of a cliff with a precipitous drop to the ocean. Pine trees surrounded the hole that led down to the kingdom. Large, lichen covered rocks lured between the trees.
The area felt desolate, despite the close-standing trees. Brett recognized that as part of the fairy magic in the area, meant to discourage anyone from lingering.
The “keep away” spells weren’t working, however.
At least half a dozen dwarven warriors squatted close to the hole, hidden behind trees and boulders. A couple held axes, while the rest had either bows and arrows or long pikes.
They were obviously planning an ambush.
Brett wasn’t about to tell them that while this was one of the larger exits for the fairy kingdom, it wasn’t used that often. The fairies more frequently used the escape holes further to the east and south.
However, the dwarves didn’t seem to be patiently waiting.
Brett tasted the air with his long black tongue.
No, the dwarves were expectant. They assumed the fairies would come rising out of the hole at any minute.
Brett closed his eyes and sent his senses down, into the kingdom below. He didn’t like to think about the fact that if he’d been youn
ger he would have been able to sense what was below him without blocking his physical sight.
The energy of the fairies twinkled harshly. It felt spiky to him, prickling and burning like nettles. Why had he allowed them to stay in his territory for so long? True, they did amuse him with their squabbles and their clockwork. He’d been particularly interested in the great machine they’d been building, curious what would happen if the humans were driven out of the area. It had been the only thing that had interested him for years.
Until the Maker had arrived.
Had the fairies kept Brett alive? Were they part of why he’d survived for so many decades and centuries?
He wasn’t about to give them that much credit.
Still.
He shook his head and regrouped, focusing on what he’d been doing. His thoughts had wandered as badly as an ancient human’s.
Ah. There. Far below the fairies and their twinkling lights. A snake had found a weakness and burrowed up, though the basement of the palace.
The dwarves down below would attack soon. And fairies would come pouring out of this hole Only to be massacred by the dwarves waiting here.
Brett found himself grinning. He wasn’t about to warn the fairies. No, they had it coming to them. He’d been planning an attack himself, slipping in through this ill-watched exit, causing the fairies below more grief.
Instead, he would let the dwarves do his work for him. He might aid them a bit and further diminish any wounded fairy. Damn things were hard to kill and tended to fight on even after they were mortally wounded. He’d make sure that any who were injured actually died.
And if any dwarf happened to be wounded as well? Brett would also help him along to the great beyond. It was only fair.
“I demand that you take me to my son!” Denise insisted to Racanta, the warrior fairy standing in front of her.
The wind from the ocean had picked up, blowing cold chills down her back At least she still had her blue rain jacket on, along with thick jeans and sensible hiking boots.
Racanta stubbornly stood with her arms crossed over her chest, refusing to budge.
When Denise had tried to walk around the fairy and into the abandoned house, the fairy had growled at her. The sound had made Denise freeze, feeling like prey.
She knew that the fairy wouldn’t hurt her. That she would only make threats, but not follow through on any of them.
Yet, Denise found it impossible to make her feet move forward any more.
Damned fairy magic.
“I can make you go, you know,” Racanta said softly. “Touch your arm, confuse your senses. So you don’t remember why you’re here.”
“No, you can’t,” Denise said. “Not forever. Possibly not even for a minute. You have my son. Do you not understand what that means?”
Racanta reluctantly nodded. “Could still try,” she said stubbornly.
“You’d fail,” Denise said. She held the image of Dale firmly in her mind as the fairy raised her hand. “You cannot take him and keep him. You’re breaking your own promises to leave him unharmed if he came to your kingdom and fixed your clockwork.”
Racanta hesitated. “No. We are keeping our vows. You, yourself, asked us to keep him safe.”
“I told Cornelius to bring him safely home. To his human home,” Denise said. Damn fairies, twisting her words!
Racanta looked worried for a moment, then her expression grew stubborn again. “I will check with Cornelius. If I’ve overstepped my bounds, I’ll return the Tinker to you promptly.”
“You will take me to my son. Now,” Denise said. Ha! She managed to move one foot forward. Maybe her rage would help her break the fairy spell holding her.
A fairy abruptly flew out of the abandoned house. He glanced at Racanta, then Denise, then back at the warrior. “Sebastian has granted her safe passage.”
Denise blinked. Sebastian? Who was that? She’d only ever met Cornelius.
Racanta seemed just as surprised. Then she turned and gave Denise a short bow. “You have been granted a sight that few humans have ever seen. Remember your place.”
Remember my place? What did the fairy mean by that?
Before Denise could ask, Racanta turned toward the abandoned house. She waved the arm with the piston in it. Though the sun wasn’t out, Denise would have sworn that she’d seen sunlight glinting off the metal.
The arm waved weirdly in the air, moving unnaturally because of its extension. Were there other clockwork pieces imbedded in the warrior’s skin that Denise couldn’t see? Mechanical parts gave her arm a fluid movement, like no bones remained?
She tore her eyes away from the warrior and watched the house change. It appeared to melt, shrinking from a large house into a small cottage. The garbage cleared away from around the base and the red-painted walls suddenly seemed cheery. The solid plank of graffiti-covered plywood over the door vanished.
Denise still didn’t like the air that poured out of the house. It felt too still. Almost dead. She would have thought that an entrance into the fairy kingdom below would be more alive.
Still. She straightened her back and marched into the opening, following Racanta.
Moldy carpet covered the floor. The walls at one point had been painted green. Dark streaks of mold covered them as well, giving Denise the feeling of being underwater. Nothing else lurked in the room, though she didn’t look too closely into the dark corners.
To the left stood what had once been a grand fireplace. The mantel had been carved out of white and black marble, with fluted columns on either side. Brown, red, and black slate made up the hearth. It was wide enough for three men to stand in it, though they would have had to hunch over slightly.
Racanta waved her augmented arm again. Suddenly, to the left of the fireplace, an opening appeared.
The scent of mold was quickly taken over by the smell of dry, stale air. Denise couldn’t help but sneeze at the dust.
Racanta looked over her shoulder at Denise, seeming to inquire if she wanted to continue.
Denise gave her a sharp nod. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. How she’d get out of this. Her daughter would definitely have some choice things to say about Denise’s decision.
But Dale lay below, possibly injured. Denise needed to save him.
Somehow.
Cornelius did not stomp as he made his way to his personal quarters. Showing his anger that way was beneath him.
However, he was certain that his eyes were rimmed with red, showing his displeasure. His wings quivered with agitation. He vibrated with rage.
Sebastian had really gotten under his skin at the last meeting of the court. How could such a brightly dressed fellow be so dour? The yellow of his outfit was searing enough to hurt the eyes.
Cornelius shook his head, grateful to finally reach the sanctuary of his rooms. He took a deep breath. The mismatch of colors on the walls soothed him: green above the chair rail and a rich blue underneath. Brilliant gold pillows decorated his bed. His bureau was carved from heavy oak wood, stained almost black.
How dare Sebastian question Cornelius’ decision to stay in the kingdom? It wasn’t as if he could just order all the fairies to leave. He ruled by consensus. Yes, they’d sent out scouts to look for a new home. And things were slowly moving that way. But the scouts hadn’t returned.
Imogene wanted to stay and fight. Of course, that woman would choose the most irritating path. That was just her nature.
But Cornelius had believed that he had the support of the priesthood: both Sebastian and Nanette, the heads of the temples of the sun and moon gods.
Why was Sebastian pushing so hard? The old priest didn’t know something that he hadn’t bothered to tell Cornelius, did he? That would be just like the priests. They kept tabs on the comings and goings of all the fairies. Maintained better watch than the warriors, Cornelius had to admit.
Sebastian had finally admitted that the priests had seen Edeline and a few of the other, younger fairies surr
eptitiously leaving the kingdom. No wonder he’d thrown in his lot with theirs!
Cornelius couldn’t forbid anyone from leaving the kingdom. But damn it! Sebastian shouldn’t be encouraging the young people to fly away, either!
Cornelius poured himself a large glass of golden moonbeam wine and walked out onto his balcony. The latest attack from the Old One had blackened part of the grand dome, to the far east. It felt to Cornelius as though night were encroaching.
He shook himself, trying to push down on his fear.
He was a fairy. He had no reason to be afraid of the night or the dark. Hell, his kind were more powerful with the full moon on their wings.
Still. It felt like something threatened them. Maybe like death stalked them.
Cornelius took a deep sip of his wine. The delightful taste soothed him, like chilled, crisp apples dipped in smoky honey. Delicious.
Sebastian was right, they did need to leave their kingdom. Cornelius was not looking forward to the move. It would be difficult and dangerous. And so arduous, rebuilding everything from scratch!
But he was enough of a realist to know that the Old One wouldn’t stop until he’d driven them all from their homes.
He’d already told Sebastian that they’d leave, despite how Imogene wanted to stay and fight.
Why had Sebastian been so gloomy that morning? Why all the predictions of imminent death?
The priest was just getting senile. That thought made Cornelius grin. Sebastian was younger than he was, despite how he always acted like an old man.
The fairies couldn’t split up, could they? Sebastian had proposed the idea of a temporary camp to the north of the kingdom, a staging area. So they could be prepared to leave immediately once the youngsters returned.
The idea was ridiculous, of course. Who knew when, or even if, the scouting team to the north would return? Plus, being out in the trees just made them more vulnerable.
No, they were safer here, deep underground, waiting until the others came back, no matter what the priest said.
A movement on the ground below his balcony drew Cornelius’ eye. What was that?
