Storm's Heart er-2

by Thea Harrison

  “Interesting.” Cameron worked on cleaning the pistol she had been given. Her strong, long-fingered hands were confident, capable.

  “Magic is so strong in Other lands, Dragos thinks it acts as a sort of natural defense mechanism. He says it works like a body’s immune system,” Niniane said. “Once it recognizes something that acts on some sort of principle of combustion, the magic moves to block it. That’s why guns misfire.” Niniane loaded hers and handed a couple of bullets to Cameron, who took them with her eyebrows still raised.

  “You’re not inspiring my confidence with this little chat,” Cameron said.

  “Here’s the thing,” Niniane said. “Automatic weapons always seize or misfire as soon as they’re taken over and used, but it can take the magic a little longer to recognize one of the primitive guns. You never know when they might explode, or misfire, so they’re dangerous and nobody uses them, but they always fire at least once.”

  Cameron’s face was hard, her hazel eyes clear and direct. “The gun might fire, but it might also kill you at the same time.”

  “Tiago and I were talking last night about a risk/benefit analysis.” She sat with her loaded derringer in her lap. She met the other woman’s troubled gaze. “The potential benefit might outweigh the risk.”

  “The situation would have to be extreme,” Cameron said. “Someone would have to consider this a weapon of last resort.”

  Niniane nodded. She thought of slipping in her brother’s blood. Then she imagined slipping in Tiago’s blood.

  She said, “And then nobody would see it coming.”

  She managed to persuade Cameron to keep the contents of the box to herself. As she told Cameron, if Tiago found out, he would go on a rampage and take them away from her. In all likelihood the guns would never be fired, and having them with her would give her a severe kind of comfort. Still the other woman remained resistant until Niniane finally snapped, “It’s none of his business, Cameron! If I ever feel the need to fire one of these, Tiago won’t be around to help me.”

  Cameron looked grim but at last fell silent.

  Niniane had saddlebags and trunks brought up. She and Cameron packed the inlaid box, along with the rest of the things.

  Soon after dawn the next day, the party that was crossing over to Adriyel gathered outside the stables. Dew still sprinkled the lawn, but the early morning air was fast losing its crisp coolness. The weather forecast stated Chicago was going to see a summer scorcher that day, with temperatures climbing into the mid-nineties.

  Niniane watched the travel party from her upstairs window. It was a large, complex gathering.

  The Nightkind had provided their own mounts, pack animals and supplies. Their eight humans were dressed in functional clothing much like what Niniane wore, jeans, boots, T-shirts and jackets. Three figures wore long-sleeved turtlenecks and gloves under robes and ground-length cloaks. They wore sunglasses and ski masks, with the hoods from their cloaks pulled over their heads. They wouldn’t take chances with something as deadly as sunlight. Probably under all that protective clothing they wore 100+ full spectrum SPF sunscreen as well. Those three would be Rhoswen, Duncan and the third Vampyre whom Niniane had not yet met. One of them—guessing by the Vampyre’s height and build, Niniane thought it was probably Rhoswen—held the halter of a black Arabian stallion. The stallion had a blanket on its back but no saddle. He snorted and tried to rear, but the slim robed figure held him firmly to the ground.

  Each of the Dark Fae had their own group. They all wore some variety of Dark Fae travel dress, consisting of tunics, leggings, knee-high boots, and either thigh-length riding coats cut with a split to the small of the back or cloaks.

  Arethusa waited with ten troops. She was dressed for travel as her troops were, in a plain brown battledress uniform consisting of a leather half-armor jacket, trousers and boots. The Commander was busy inspecting their mounts and the wagon train of supplies that the troops would be responsible for safeguarding.

  Justice Kellen was striking, as he was the only white-haired figure of the party. He moved his tall, lean body with an energy and vigor that belied his white hair. It would be a fatal mistake to believe his age implied infirmity. He stood with his personal entourage of four attendants, his back turned toward the others as he appeared to converse with one of his men in a low voice.

  Aubrey and Naida’s group was not quite the smallest, but they shared just four attendants between the two of them. Naida wore a dark green embroidered riding outfit, her black hair pulled back from her beautiful face. Aubrey’s tan and brown riding outfit complemented his wife’s. He checked the stirrups and cinch straps on their horses. His long hair was tied back with a simple strip of leather.

  Rune, Aryal and Cameron made their own small group within the much larger party. Rune’s tawny head bent close to Cameron’s. The human was laughing at something the gryphon had just said. Niniane smiled to see Rune working his usual charm. Aryal stood with her arms crossed. The harpy studied the rest of the travel party, her stormy raptor’s gaze piercing, then she looked up and caught sight of Niniane at the window. Aryal sent a pointed sidelong glance to Rune and Cameron and rolled her eyes, and Niniane burst out laughing.

  Then Carling came into view. Her body moved with the flowing sinuousness of a cheetah. A ripple of silence passed over the party as she appeared. The Vampyre’s dark hair was not the raven black of the Dark Fae coloring. Instead hers sparked with auburn glints in the early morning sunshine. She had it pinned back with the two stilettos. She was barefoot and wore a plain black cotton caftan that was slit to midthigh at the sides. The garment flowed around her lithe honey-colored body as she moved. As Carling approached her group, she gathered speed and leaped onto the Arabian stallion’s back. She gathered the reins from the Vampyre, and controlled the stallion easily with her hands and knees.

  Tiago spoke from behind her. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  She turned away from the window. Tiago’s massive figure filled the doorway. He was dressed in his usual black fatigues, two swords crossed at his back, hunting knife at his thigh. The shaved swirls at the back of his hair had grown out in the last couple of days. He had run hair clippers over his head that morning to eliminate the unevenness. The severe buzz cut emphasized the strong, elegant shape of his skull. He looked sharp and lethal as a blade.

  He stood back from the doorway. When she stepped into the hall, he took one of her hands in his much larger, warm clasp. He shortened his stride to accommodate hers as they walked down the hall and descended the house’s main staircase. The house staff had assembled in the foyer to witness her departure. They bowed when she reached the ground floor. She murmured good-byes to them as she and Tiago passed. They stepped out the front double doors into full morning sunlight.

  As they walked around the house toward the stables, Tiago’s Power mantled over her. She sighed with pleasure as a sense of his presence surrounded her. He felt fierce today and battleready.

  He ordered in a low voice, “You will not at any time step out of sight of either myself, Rune, Aryal or Cameron. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  She kept her reply neutral and patient, her expression calm. They had gone over all of this already. She felt quite sure she would be safe with the Vampyres and their attendants, but Tiago’s protective Wyr instincts were roused by the size of their large travel party and the relative lack of progress made on the investigation.

  He had been in a foul mood since he had rejoined her the previous evening. Rune and Aryal had conducted an energetic canvass of the bars in the greater Chicago area that catered to the Elder Races. They had discovered the bar where the three dead Wyr had met for dinner, and by talking with the bar staff and several of the patrons, they had gleaned a few names. Names led to addresses. The Wyr had lived and worked in Chicago and had frequented the bar, but they had pretty much kept to themselves. Examining their bank accounts revealed that each of them had received
a $25,000 payment from Tri-State Financial Services, the same company supposedly owned by Cuelebre Enterprises that had made a payout to Geril, but there the trail ended.

  No one had witnessed the three Wyr meet with anyone the night they had attacked. The sentinels searched their apartments but came up with nothing. Tri-State Financial Services had articles of incorporation filed with the Illinois Secretary of State, but the address listed on the bank transfers turned out to be a UPS Store.

  That pesky company. It was a puzzle. Setting up a company with corporation papers took time, and that one factor threw everything else into question. None of the Dark Fae who had crossed over from Adriyel would have had the time to create Tri-State. At least Rune and Aryal had unearthed proof that it was the same person or partnership behind both assassination attempts. Rune had put a forensic accountant to research the origins of the company’s money resources, but that kind of investigation would take time, and in the meantime the party was crossing over to Adriyel.

  Niniane and Tiago rounded the corner of the house and came in sight of the group. Everyone turned as one to watch as she and Tiago approached. She smiled at them all. The party had a total of thirty-seven people, thirty-eight including her, and she could trust so few of them right now. It would be a huge step forward if she could just be sure of Arethusa, who commanded the troops.

  Then she noticed Rune walking toward her. He led a horse she hadn’t seen from the window, a sweet-faced Appaloosa mare with intelligent eyes. She had a shining black coat and signature white-spotted markings dappling her rump and face. The mare had the fine, graceful head and long slender legs that revealed an Arabian ancestry, and her bridle and saddle were polished black leather trimmed in silver.

  Niniane lit up with pleasure. She said, “What a beauty.”

  She looked around for Naida to find both Naida and Aubrey smiling at her. Naida said, “Please accept her as our gift. I thought you might enjoy breeding her with one of our Dark Fae lines.”

  Rune added telepathically, I’ve checked her and her tack over thoroughly. She’s a sweet little mare. She’s responsive and affectionate, she has a smooth, fast gait, and she’s steady. She’s nervous at my Wyr scent but not skittish. She’ll adjust well to our presence and be a good mount for you.

  “This is so generous of you,” Niniane said to Aubrey and Naida. She could not resist petting the mare’s velvet-soft nose. The mare blew at her fingers and nuzzled her, and her heart melted. All thought of politics and maneuvering for position flew out of her head, and she lost herself in delight. “I love her,” she said. She told the mare, “I love you.” She looked at the Dark Fae couple. “Thank you so much.”

  Aubrey said, “It is our very great pleasure, your highness. I hope you get many years of enjoyment with her.”

  In that moment it was impossible for her not to believe in his sincerity. The sun was shining, the mare regarded her with great, dark liquid eyes, and everyone in the party was smiling at her pleasure at the gift. Perhaps one of them was the person who had tried to kill her. And yes, Tiago pushed hard for caution, and she would follow his orders. But that left thirty-six other people who may very well be friends.

  She decided those odds were enough to make it a good day.

  Tiago put his hands at her waist and lifted her into the saddle. Then he and Rune mounted their horses, great, sturdy draft crossbred horses that could carry the Wyrs’ weight for days on end. Then nothing happened. Niniane looked around. Everyone was mounted but nobody moved.

  She happened to glance at Arethusa who raised her eyebrows. Oh, right. They were waiting for her. Her cheeks warmed. She gave the Commander a sheepish grin and nodded. Arethusa inclined her head, smiling, and nudged her horse forward to lead the way on the path toward the point of crossover. Niniane and Tiago moved to follow Arethusa, and the rest of the party fell into place behind them.

  The sense of land magic grew stronger as they neared the point of crossover. Niniane still didn’t recognize anything, but landmarks changed over time, and the entire property had been landscaped and cultivated for many years since the last time she had seen it. She had also been stressed, moving fast, and not inclined to stop and memorize the scenery.

  The path Arethusa followed went down an incline that turned into a shallow ravine with an old dry streambed, and then she recognized where she was. She tensed as she remembered staggering along the streambed. She had been dazed and in shock from the palace massacre, her escape and the subsequent graewing accident. It had not been dry then. The water had been icecold. She had slipped on the wet, slick rocks more than once, numb in spirit and body.

  Tiago’s leg bumped hers. He said, “Faerie.”

  “I’m all right,” she said.

  “I require proof of that,” he said.

  “I didn’t say this wasn’t difficult,” she told him. She kept her voice cool, precise. “I just said I was all right.”

  She kept her back ramrod straight. She didn’t look at him, because if she saw concern in his black gaze, she might start bawling in front of everybody, which would be mortifying. She might be a touchy-feely kind of chick, but she had too much pride for that.

  He must have understood, because he pulled away to leave her to her own memories.

  The party followed the streambed and the magic grew stronger. From one curve to the next the land changed, and so did the season. The wind gusted. It had turned sharp and cool.

  She gazed at the altered landscape. For the first time in two hundred years she looked at the blazing, brilliant colors of Adriyel in the autumn.

  It was so quiet.

  Tiago kept his gelding in line with Niniane’s high-stepping little mare as he studied the altered landscape. The party was bypassing the outpost that had been built to guard the crossover point. The outpost was just a squat three-story tower with a barracks attached at the base. Arethusa raised a hand to the guards who stood on lookout duty at the top of the tower. They gave a brisk salute in reply.

  Even though they had left Chicago shortly after dawn, the sun was high in the sky in Adriyel, the day nearer to noon than not. The kitchen had worked through the night to supply the party with plenty of fresh-cooked foodstuffs, which were packed in nylon padded coolers in the supply train. They were going to have an easy first day out.

  Once they had crossed over, the party spread out along the narrow dirt-packed road and fell into a natural formation of people who chose to ride together and talk. Tiago listened to the noise their party made. He could hear snatches of conversation wafting on the sharp autumnal breeze, along with the snort of horses and the earthen thud of hoof beats, the jingle of harnesses and occasionally someone’s sudden outburst of laughter. Avian wildlife darted and flew all over, singing and chirping alarm at their presence. There was the rustle of the wind in the trees.

  Several of the troops kicked ahead to join Arethusa and guard the front of the train. A few rode to the sides, and the rest brought up the rear with the supply animals. The arrangement was a little loose and relaxed for him, but he was used to tight, silent defensive formations moving through war-torn areas.

  The road followed a rolling landscape, its emerald carpet of wild grasses turning golden with the end of summer. The landscape was dotted with clumps of deciduous forest that had exploded with various shades of reds, yellows and burnt orange. Some late-changing trees were only just beginning to turn, the deeper green of summer lightening to lime and yellowing along the edges.

  And it was so quiet.

  He contemplated the roaring absence of constant traffic, the white noise of the city that he never could quite block out of his senses, the azure of a virgin sky that had never seen a condensation trail left by an airplane, and he smiled to himself. It was good to find something to smile about, good to take deep breaths of air that had never been tinged with exhaust fumes and other urban contaminants.

  He looked behind him, caught Aryal’s gaze and motioned to her. The harpy kicked her horse forward. Aryal sa
id telepathically, What’s up?

  Hang with Niniane, would you? he said. I want to do some recon.

  You got it.

  He said out loud, “Faerie, I’m going to take a look around.”

  She had been silent for some time, her expression contemplative, closed-in, even sad, but she roused to give him a quick smile. “Fine, go.”

  He nodded to her and nudged his mount forward until he came abreast with Arethusa. “Scouting ahead,” he said.

  He had expected the Commander to get snarky, but Arethusa just frowned at him and said, “Of course.”

  He liked his horse. It was a no-nonsense worker and knew its job. He touched his heels to its side, and it broke into a canter. He rode away from the party at a fast, steady pace until he reached a copse far enough away he could be sure of some privacy. He stopped, tethered the horse, changed into his Wyr form and launched into the air.

  The Dark Fae had grown used to Adriyel being protected. The faeries would have a conniption if they caught sight of a Wyr thunderbird soaring over their land, so he figured it was best if they didn’t see him, at least for now. He had never asked for permission to fly before, and he intended to never ask for forgiveness, so he cloaked himself as he flew. The oldest and most Powerful of the Wyr, such as Dragos and his sentinels, had the ability to hide themselves from normal sight. They didn’t spread that fact around to just anybody.

  He flew several miles ahead of the party, and then he scouted to either side and took a look at their rear flank just to be safe. All was peaceful and well in the countryside. There were no sneaky faeries lying in wait. Niniane was safe. She might not be happy yet, but she would be one day. He swore he would make that happen. For now it was enough that she was safe and riding a pretty horse on a sunny cool afternoon with old friends surrounding her.

  He dared to relax, just for a little while. The sharp wind blew. It lifted him high where the air was thin and sounded a mournful, endless song. The lustrous sun blazed with a greater clarity than he had seen in far too long, and the shimmering land magic rose to greet him as he soared, his great wings outspread.