The Dark Divide

by Jennifer Fallon

  ‘What?’

  ‘Get out of here.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  He turned to her, grabbed her by the arms to emphasise his point. ‘Go. Morph into the fastest thing you can and fly away from here. Now.’

  There must have been something in his demeanour that convinced her he wasn’t fooling around. For once, she didn’t argue.

  ‘Come with me,’ she said.

  ‘I can’t,’ he said with utter certainty about where his destiny lay in these next few minutes. ‘I have to stay here.’

  She searched his face for a moment and then nodded in understanding. ‘You can See what’s going to happen.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘You have the Sight.’

  ‘Please, Trása. Go.’

  She nodded. ‘You’ve only got a few days until Lughnasadh, Rónán. You have to be in Tír Na nÓg by then, or —’

  ‘I know.’

  The drums were now so loud there seemed to be no other sound in the compound. The walls were lined with people now, many of them in their nightclothes, staring down at whatever was approaching outside the walls. Ren let Trása go. ‘Fly away, Faerie. Stay free. For both our sakes.’

  She nodded, her eyes suddenly brimming with unshed tears, as if she too could see what was coming. Without warning, she threw her arms around Ren and kissed him on the mouth, but before he could grasp what she was doing and kiss her back, she turned into a striking white gull and slipped through his fingers.

  With a squawk and a plaintive cry, Trása circled the compound once and flapped away toward the south.

  Ren watched her leave, his fingers unconsciously touching his lips where she’d kissed him for a moment, and then he lowered his arm, squared his shoulders and turned toward the gate, as it slowly swung open.

  The Empresses had arrived.

  CHAPTER 35

  The mystery of the relationship between Anwen and Queen Álmhath continued to intrigue Brydie. It deepened into something more sinister a few days after she learned the startling news that the Undivided were born of Tuatha Dé Danann royalty, in a complex and secret plan of the Matrarchaí for some nefarious purpose of their own.

  As the betrothed of Álmhath’s only son, Anwen wasn’t bound by the same rules as the other court maidens. She had been in the sacred grove the morning Álmhath had selected Brydie as the one she would send to Sí an Bhrú to seduce Darragh. But Brydie wondered now if Anwen had really been in the grove to oversee the selection, while appearing to be a part of it.

  Anwen crept out of Temair in the middle of the night, waiting until Torcán was snoring softly in a stupor brought on by too much mead. She had made love to Torcán before he slept — or had let Torcán make love to her — and had forgotten to remove the necklace in her haste. Brydie had been treated to another one of those uncomfortably close encounters with Torcán, as he enthusiastically thrust himself into his betrothed, unconscious of her faked cries of pleasure.

  Anwen checked that she could escape the fortress unseen and tied her cloak around her shoulders, hampering Brydie’s view. She hurried barefoot through the halls, sneaking out into the chilly night, and went down to the sacred grove, out of sight of the main buildings. The guards ignored her, making Brydie wonder if there were magic involved. Álmhath’s sentries were not so inept as to let a court maiden slip out in the dead of night without someone asking what business she had, being abroad so late.

  There was a woman waiting for Anwen in the grove. She was tall, slim and shrouded in a dark velvet cloak, her face concealed in the shadow of her cowl. Anwen dropped to her knees when she reached the grove, waiting until the woman gently touched her shoulder, before rising to her feet. She pushed back her cowl and Brydie saw an attractive, dark-haired woman of indeterminate age, with an air of elegance and command that she could feel, even through the faceted walls of her jewelled prison.

  ‘Bonsoir, cherie,’ the woman said, smiling as she signalled Anwen to rise. ‘You had no trouble getting away?’

  Anwen shook her head, which always made Brydie a little seasick. ‘None, my lady.’

  ‘And how goes it, Anwen? Have you succeeded in the task we asked of you?’

  Anwen hesitated before answering. Task? What task? was all Brydie could think to ask. Not that there was anybody about who could hear or answer the question.

  This mysterious stranger might provide some answers, though.

  ‘That depends on your definition of success, my lady,’ Anwen said, rising to her feet. ‘I have not been able to stop the Tuatha plan to transfer the power channel from RónánDarragh to the new heirs, BrocCairbre, on Lughnasadh. But I am about to be married to the queen’s only son, which gives me more influence every day.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ the strange woman said, although she didn’t sound especially enthusiastic.

  ‘It will enable me to keep a steady hand on the helm here, but I fear not enough to wield true power. I have failed miserably in that regard, my lady.’

  ‘In the grand scheme, transferring power from one set of Undivided to another is not our problem. The death of RónánDarragh before we secure their bloodline is the Matrarchaí’s main concern.’

  ‘Ah … now there, I may have had more success,’ Anwen said, sounding a lot less contrite than she had a moment ago, Brydie thought. ‘I took your advice, my lady, and spoke to the queen about preserving their bloodline.’

  The older woman nodded. ‘I remember Álmhath. She was very keen to embrace the sisterhood when we first visited this realm.’

  Brydie could feel Anwen nodding in agreement. ‘She belongs to the Matrarchaí in this realm, although she doesn’t appreciate the full depth and breadth of our reach. But she is no fool. She understands the power she would command, if she were to control the Undivided.’

  The woman frowned. ‘And how, exactly, does this unsophisticated Celtic queen imagine she can control the Undivided, when none of us have ever achieved the same feat?’

  ‘By raising them to be loyal to her.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Anwen sighed — impatiently, Brydie thought. ‘We need the bloodline preserved, my lady, you said so yourself. It wasn’t hard to convince Álmhath to send a suitable vessel to Darragh’s bed so his seed might be collected. Any children spawned from such a union, she plans to raise herself, ensuring their loyalty to her rather than the Treaty of Tír Na nÓg.’

  Far from being pleased by this news, the woman seemed irritated. That made Brydie like her a great deal more than Anwen, who seemed to have little or no empathy for the task she had arranged for Brydie to undertake. ‘If only it were that simple.’

  ‘I didn’t feel explaining the flaw in her thinking would achieve anything, my lady. Her ambition coincides enough with our needs to achieve the same outcome.’

  The visitor smiled sourly. ‘Well, you have to give her credit for trying, I suppose. It’s a grand idea, but not one likely to succeed if the union results in offspring tied to the Tuatha by blood.’

  ‘I didn’t have the heart to tell her how little chance her plan has of succeeding,’ Anwen said.

  ‘It’s not an impossible ambition though,’ the woman conceded. ‘There are realms where nobody has heard of the Undivided. Preserving the bloodlines in realms devoid of magic is much less problematic there. Believe me, I know. Who did you assign to the task?’

  ‘Brydie Ni’Seanan,’ Anwen said. ‘Mogue Ni’Farrell’s daughter.’

  Brydie pushed her face against the amethyst’s surface wondering if her name, or her mother’s name, would evoke any sort of reaction in the woman.

  ‘Mogue had a daughter?’

  ‘I thought you knew.’

  ‘She left the Matrarchaí in anger,’ the woman said. ‘We haven’t spoken in twenty years. I lost track of her long ago.’ She pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘Her daughter is not one of us, then.’

  ‘But she is pure human.’

  The woman wasn’t pleased. Brydie was liking her more and more. ‘The Matrarcha
í are not in the habit of whoring out young women, Anwen — even those not of the sisterhood — in order to secure our aims. Our issue is with those of Tuatha Dé Danann heritage. Not our own kind.’

  You tell her! Brydie silently cheered. And then she sank down to the floor of her prison, frowning. But what does she mean about me being pure human? I thought I was special because I had some Faerie in me? I wish they’d make up their minds.

  ‘The girl in question was the right bloodline and had few prospects at court,’ Anwen replied in a dismissive tone that cut Brydie to the core. ‘She was destined to be someone’s mistress, not a wife. The men who come to Álmhath’s court looking for a woman to bear their children and a housekeeper to mind their estates, don’t want a wife they have to fear every other man in their kingdom is lusting after. I did her a favour, my lady, not a disservice. Darragh of the Undivided was healthy, virile and not unattractive. One day, she’ll thank me for the opportunity.’

  The Gaulish woman didn’t seem mollified by Anwen’s explanation. And Brydie found it vaguely unsettling that Anwen talked about Darragh as if he were already dead.

  She was smarting a little over Anwen’s opinion that she was too pretty to be marriage material, too.

  ‘Perhaps,’ the woman agreed, with some reluctance. ‘Where is she now?’

  Brydie saw Anwen’s hands reaching up toward her, and she was thrown sideways as Anwen untied the necklace behind her neck and handed it to the Gaulish woman. ‘She’s here.’

  The Gaul accepted the necklace on the palm of her hand and stared at it for a long moment, giving Brydie her first close look at her. It was impossible to tell the colour of her eyes, between the darkness and the amethyst filter through which Brydie saw everything, but she was an attractive woman, and not as young as Brydie had first assumed. There was a maturity about her that marked her as a woman of some years.

  ‘Did you …?’ the woman began.

  Anwen shook her head. ‘I’ve not the power to do anything of the kind, Lady Delphine. That’s why I was chosen to come to this court. Had I any useful magical ability, the Druids or the Undivided may have recognised the ability in me, and I would have been discovered as soon as I arrived.’

  ‘Then who did this?’

  ‘I’m guessing it was one of the Djinn,’ Anwen said.

  Delphine looked up, her concern obvious, even to Brydie. ‘What interest would they have in this girl? More to the point, what are the Djinn doing, sneaking around Sí an Bhrú?’

  ‘I don’t know, Lady Delphine. I just know that in this realm, the only species of sídhe who use inanimate objects to trap unwary humans are the Djinn. She is trapped in the jewel.’

  Brydie stared up at the woman, pounding her fist uselessly on the walls. ‘So … get me out then!’ she cried.

  Lady Delphine, whoever she was, might know she was here, and what had trapped her, but she didn’t seem to be in any great hurry to release her. Delphine studied the necklace with interest, but it was a detached, clinical sort of interest. She certainly wasn’t whipping out her magic wand, or stoking up her cauldron, or whatever it was she used to work her spells, so she could release Brydie on the spot. ‘Do they know you have her?’ she asked Anwen, looking up from the jewel lying in her palm.

  Brydie turned from watching Delphine in time to see Anwen shrugging. ‘I don’t know, my lady. I suspect not.’

  ‘Then for the time being, she is safe.’

  Safe! How can you call this safe! I’m a prisoner! You know I’m here! Get me out!

  ‘It is almost impossible to release someone trapped by a djinni without the help of the Djinn,’ Delphine added. ‘If this girl succeeded and conceived, then we will have need of her. Until we can find a safe way to release her and the precious burden she may be carrying, she is safer where she is.’

  ‘And in the meantime?’

  ‘In the meantime, the transfer will take place on Lughnasadh as scheduled, Darragh and Rónán will die, and we will be rid of one more threat to our plans.’ Delphine handed the necklace back to Anwen. ‘If Brydie conceived a child — or better yet, twins — then you did well to preserve the line. I wish we were having as much success in other realms.’

  Brydie was jostled again as Anwen tied the necklace around her neck. ‘There are problems, my lady?’

  Delphine nodded as she raised her hood, pulling the cloak a little tighter against the chill. ‘The circle we use in the realm where I have been working was destroyed recently.’ She sighed, shaking her head. ‘Be grateful you’ve been sent to a realm where there is enough magic that you can leave anytime you need, ma cherie. Not all of us have been so lucky.’

  Sent? Brydie thought. What does she mean by sent? Is Anwen not of this realm?

  What is she? A rift runner spy from another realm?

  ‘The Matrarchaí are the reason the line has never been broken,’ the queen had told Brydie in the wagon on the way to Sí an Bhrú. ‘The reason why, after sixty-six generations, humans still occupy Sí an Bhrú.’ She had also said, ‘The Matrarchaí know the secret of producing the psychic twins needed to preserve the Treaty of Tír Na nÓg.’

  But not the Matrarchaí of this realm, Brydie realised.

  ‘It’s going to take me days to get back,’ Delphine sighed, ‘and once I do, it’s going to be difficult to leave again, until I can find another platform high enough off the ground to tap into the little magic that remains in the Enchanted Sphere.’

  The two of them began to walk toward the entrance to the grove. Presumably, Delphine was headed to the stone circle near Temair where she would open a rift and return to her own realm.

  ‘It is easy to forget sometimes,’ Lady Delphine added, ‘just how the politics and religion of realms which don’t even know of our existence, can impact upon our plans.’

  Where are you, Darragh? Brydie wondered. Do you know about these strangers lurking in your realm, plotting to bring you down?

  Does Álmhath know Anwen is a spy? She certainly knew something was afoot, but was she a party to it? Or was she being duped by these women of this alien Matrarchaí?

  ‘You don’t worry about being stranded in a reality without magic, my lady?’ Anwen asked. She spoke to Lady Delphine with more deference and respect than she had ever shown Queen Álmhath.

  ‘Constantly,’ Delphine replied. ‘And in the realm where I have been working these past thirty years, it is worse than most.’

  ‘Why take such a risk?’

  ‘Because a realm with depleted magic is the one place we can be sure we are safe from Tuatha Dé Danann spies. It’s frustrating to be working so hard toward securing magic for our own kind from a world where our kind have all but destroyed it. Were it not for their engineering expertise I would never be able to open a rift in the realm.’

  ‘They have mechanical rifts?’ Anwen asked, sounding surprised.

  ‘They build ludicrously tall buildings,’ Delphine corrected. ‘So high they reach the Enchanted Sphere.’ The women reached the entrance to the grove. The moon remained hidden from view behind the clouds. Delphine stopped and turned to face Anwen, giving Brydie a much better view of her. It must have been cold, she thought, because Delphine’s breath frosted faintly as she spoke. ‘The destruction of my circle has set my work back months. You are not my only charge, Anwen. There are other realms where Partition has already been achieved, and I am cut off from them temporarily. I’m not sure when I can get back here again. But you seem to have things in hand. There are other places where my intervention is needed.’

  ‘I can hold things together, my lady, until you return.’

  Delphine nodded and leaned forward to gently touch her fingertips to the amethyst around Anwen’s neck. ‘Keep our little friend safe, then, Anwen,’ she ordered. ‘This realm will have need of her if we are to achieve Partition here in our lifetime.’

  She’s a Partitionist, Brydie realised. Her father bordered on being one, but his hope of one day escaping the bonds of the Treaty of Tír Na
nÓg, and what he called the oppressive rule of the Tuatha Dé Danann, was something he merely ranted about around the hearth when he’d drunk too much mead with his friends in winter. She was sure he knew nothing of a group from another realm working to separate humans from sídhe magic.

  ‘Can you find your way back to the circle from here, my lady?’

  Delphine nodded. ‘I know the path very well, Anwen,’ she said. ‘I have visited many times before.’ She embraced the younger woman briefly. ‘You should return before you are missed.’ She took a step back, fixing her attention on Anwen’s necklace. ‘Do you suppose your little friend in the jewel knows what’s going on?’

  ‘I doubt it, my lady.’

  Delphine leaned a little closer. Brydie could see her smiling. ‘Perhaps she is watching, listening, taking it all in.’ She straightened which enabled her to look Anwen in the eye. Her smile faded. ‘You may want to consider that.’

  Anwen nodded … or it felt as though she did — Brydie couldn’t really see, but the jewel bobbed up and down for a moment. Delphine turned toward the trees and within moments she was lost in the darkness, leaving Anwen alone to sneak back into Sí an Bhrú.

  Brydie sank to the floor with even more questions she couldn’t answer, not the least of which was the most important …

  Was there some way to tell whether she was now pregnant with Darragh’s heir?

  And if she was, what did the Matrarchaí want with her child?

  CHAPTER 36

  ‘What do you think?’ Pete asked Annad Semaj when he emerged from the interview room.

  Annad paused, sneezed and wiped his red, chafed nose before answering. ‘I think I could do a PhD on this kid.’

  ‘Is he schizophrenic?’

  ‘Hard to say after only one interview. I’m guessing not. As a rule, schizophrenia is characterised by relatively stable, albeit paranoid, delusions, which our boy has in spades. But the delusions are usually accompanied by hallucinations, mostly auditory, and often perceptual disturbances as well. This lad displays none of that.’