The Dark Divide

by Jennifer Fallon

  ‘No crueller than this one,’ she replied, pointing to the TV. ‘Because I can tell you this much, Jack O’Righin, nobody in my realm ever did anything like that.’

  CHAPTER 43

  The investiture of a new Undivided was no small thing, and it brought representatives of the sídhe races from all over the realm. There were Djinn and Tuatha Dé Danann, Youkai and even a smattering of Egyptian deities, come to watch the festivities. There were probably not as many as once might have come. Nobody had seen hide nor hair of a Roman god in decades. The Indians believed each one of them was a manifestation of their own gods, so they didn’t need them to appear at events like this and the African spirits — of which there was a numberless pantheon — considered the Treaty of Tír Na nÓg such a betrayal of their kind that they generally refused to take part in the ceremony at all.

  There were other guests, too, camped at Sí an Bhrú. The fields around the fortress were cluttered with colourful tents, the noise of a score of delegates and their entourages representing the rulers of lands as near as Albion and as far away as India and China. The delegation from Namibia had brought three caged lions, although the reason escaped Marcroy — probably to intimidate everyone else.

  They had come through the stone circles with their Druids who opened the rifts and allowed them to travel the length and breadth of the world as easily as they traversed the distance between one town and the next in their own countries. Marcroy frowned as he looked down over the crowded fields, despairing of how many humans there were, not just in Sí an Bhrú but in general. There seemed to be more every year.

  Why couldn’t they be like the other animal species which shared this world, and die off when times were lean, to keep their numbers down? The curse of human intelligence, Marcroy often lamented, was their misguided compassion.

  A herd of any other kind left the weak to die or for the predators to take, for the good of the herd. Humans spoke of kindness and caring, while they protected the weak and often allowed them to breed. In spite of that, they committed acts of appalling atrocity against each other in the name of war.

  ‘You look pensive, brother.’

  Marcroy turned to face the queen of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Fair and flawless, her long hair flowing behind her in a cloud so fine it floated on the negligible breeze, she was dressed in a gown made of spider webs and light, her youthful face giving no hint of the thousands of years she had lived and ruled her people.

  ‘I was just pondering the paradox of war, my lady,’ he told her, relieved beyond measure his older sister had arrived in time for the ceremony. She had promised she would be here to perform the power transfer from the absent Undivided to the new, less-talented and less-dangerous heirs, but Orlagh didn’t keep time the way humans did. He would not have been surprised if she forgot … or missed it by a year or two.

  ‘What is the paradox that vexes thee, Marcroy?’ she asked, glancing at her entourage. In her wake came a cascade of lesser sídhe, scores of them — small and flighty, sprites and spirits, and all hoping for a moment in her light, a glimmer of her favour. ‘Humans fight and sometimes they die. I have noticed they mostly prefer to maim each other with large sticks and pointed implements, and drink vast quantities of mead after the battle is done, convincing each other all the while that they were not afraid of dying.’

  He smiled, reminded that Orlagh was much better informed about human nature than humans suspected. ‘They send the strong out to die, leaving the weak to carry on the tribe. I find that … inefficient.’

  Orlagh laughed — the sound a waterfall of delight that sent shivers down Marcroy’s spine.

  ‘You are the only one among us, Marcroy, who worries about efficiency. Are the rest of the Brethren here yet?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not all of them. I have seen Jamaspa, but he seems preoccupied. He said he had lost something valuable and has gone to look for it.’ He swept his arm across the scene below. ‘We do have all the dregs of humanity, gathering like vultures circling a corpse.’

  Orlagh glanced at him curiously. ‘How can you loathe mortals so intensely, my dear, and yet spend so much time among them, scheming and plotting their demise? Do they never suspect your true feelings?’

  ‘Some might,’ he conceded with a shrug. ‘But I have moved among humans long enough to have mastered their gift for duplicity. They have no notion of my motives. They think I aspire to be like them.’ He recalled the last human lover he had taken, although memory was vague, the woman’s face lost in time. She was a Druid, he knew that much, but other than the wolf mask she wore, he remembered little about her or the winter equinox in question.

  Orlagh frowned. ‘You promised me you wouldn’t encourage that sort of thing. Or fraternise with them yourself. Not after the trouble you caused with Sorcha.’

  Marcroy shook his head. Had he promised, being sídhe, he would have been incapable of breaking his word. ‘It served the required purpose at the time.’

  ‘You know what I think of Tuatha Dé Danann who fraternise with mortals,’ she said, frowning. ‘There are too many unwanted mongrels out there now. I would be appalled to find you adding to their number.’

  He gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Do not bother yourself, beloved. The last time I fraternised with any human was years ago.’

  ‘I trust you had a good reason.’

  He nodded. ‘The mortals were becoming suspicious of my motives, so I did what I must to assuage their concerns. I took part in one of their festivals, that’s all. Nothing came of it.’

  She smiled at him, reaching up to touch his face. Her touch was electric, even to someone as used to it as Marcroy. This was what came of living entirely in the sídhe world, of never being tainted by mortals. For a moment, Marcroy wondered if he should simply do the same. Perhaps he should walk away from this life. Forget mortals and go back to where he belonged. What a delight it would be to stay in Tír Na nÓg.

  What a thrill it would be to immerse himself in nothing more complicated than the wonder of being a prince of the Tuatha Dé Danann and put this mundane world of duplicity and strife behind him.

  And then remembered why he was caught up in this world of duplicity and strife. If he withdrew, the Tuatha Dé Danann would be destroyed.

  Marcroy walked among humans so his beloved sister didn’t need to.

  Perhaps, after today, he could arrange to spend more time at home. Once the threat of RónánDarragh was removed, his stewardship of the Druids needn’t be quite so close. Of course, he would have to ensure another set of twins like RónánDarragh were never invested again, but surely he could do that without spending so much time in the mundane world?

  ‘Beloved Marcroy,’ she said. ‘You have given up so much for your people.’

  ‘Not for my people, my lady. For you.’

  She laughed delightedly. ‘Now you are just trying to flatter me. Have you met the new Undivided?’

  ‘I have. They seem personable enough. They are still children, of course, so it’s hard to say what they will be like as adults.’ Truth be told, Marcroy didn’t really care. Just so long as they weren’t as powerful as RónánDarragh. That was all that truly mattered. ‘They have been waiting in Tír Na nÓg for this day to arrive.’

  ‘Was that wise?’ Orlagh asked. ‘Won’t they lose track of the time?’

  ‘They are young enough not to notice,’ he assured her. ‘In their minds, they only arrived a day ago in the magical city of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Out here, weeks have passed, but at their age, time is fairly meaningless, whatever race one is.’

  ‘I suppose,’ she agreed, but already she was losing interest in the discussion. Across the valley, the sun was resting on the top of the hills. Soon it would be time for the ceremony to begin.

  ‘I heard there was to be a wedding, too,’ Orlagh said, looking around for some sign of the wedding party.

  ‘We’ve missed that, I fear,’ Marcroy told her, not bothering to explain that he had intercepted the queen’s invita
tion and refused on her behalf. There were few things he cared less about than who Torcán of the Celts was marrying. The bride was one of Álmhath’s court maidens — some orphaned and impoverished nobleman’s daughter he supposed — who had caught the boy’s eye. Why a woman in Álmhath’s position wasn’t using this marriage to fortify her throne made no sense to Marcroy, so he had no interest in the young lovers or their vows. If Álmhath wasn’t smart enough to realise that her only child was too valuable a commodity to be wasted on a marriage based on anything other than protection of her borders or bolstering her wealth, he saw no reason why he should help celebrate her foolishness.

  At his suggestion the marriage had taken place this morning, at dawn, presided over by Colmán. With the distraction of her son’s marriage out of the way, he and Álmhath could move on to the important business, which was the investiture of the new Undivided. Marcroy needed that to happen — and not only to appease the Brethren. Although he couldn’t prove it, Marcroy was certain Álmhath had known of these hidden Undivided heirs. He’d seen her fake her astonishment and delight when he’d told her of the find. Only a few weeks ago, he’d witnessed her momentary glimmer of surprise and alarm when he had announced he had found them and planned to bring them to Sí an Bhrú to replace RónánDarragh. He had thought it would prove a much more difficult transition to make — and it might have been, had not Darragh played into his hands by behaving so foolishly over Brydie Ni’Seanan, the young woman Álmhath had thrown at him, no doubt in the hopes of getting a child from him before he perished in this evening’s ceremony.

  And he saw the speed with which she had tried to thrust a fertile young woman into Darragh’s bed, as soon as she realised she couldn’t stop the transfer of his power and that his bloodline, and that of his missing brother, might soon be lost.

  Humans claimed there was no blood-link between the Undivided and insisted that the occurrence of these rare, psychically linked twins was sheer happenstance. Marcroy had never been able to prove them wrong, but he had always had a feeling they were lying. Now he thought it even more likely because of the way in which Álmhath threw Brydie at Darragh.

  ‘Ah well,’ Orlagh said, caring about Torcán’s nuptials even less than Marcroy, ‘do you suppose the Pristine Ones will come this time?’

  ‘Hard to say,’ Marcroy told her with a shrug. ‘They weren’t here for the last ceremony.’

  ‘They should get out more often,’ Orlagh said. ‘One needs to descend to the mundane world occasionally to be reminded why it is so much better at home.’

  Marcroy, for one, was hoping they didn’t come. The Chinese deities were the oldest of the fey races and after the Africans, the ones most irked by the treaty Orlagh had made binding the sídhe and humans so closely through the Druids. This day would be fraught enough without their stern disapproval. They might send Jamaspa to deliver their messages, but Marcroy had never been in any doubt as to whom the djinni was referring when he spoke of the Brethren, and who wanted RónánDarragh dealt with before they grew old enough to harm the Faerie races of this realm.

  Almost as if thinking of him conjured his form, a wisp of blue smoke began to waver in front of Orlagh and Marcroy, taking shape before their eyes. A few moments later, Jamaspa appeared — from the waist up, at least — and bowed to the queen of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

  ‘Ah, good lady, it is a pleasure to see you again,’ he announced with all the charm and elegance he reserved for those he considered his equal in stature.

  ‘We are investing a new set of Undivided twins tonight, Jamaspa,’ she told him, smiling with delight. ‘Where else would I be?’

  ‘Indeed, fair lady, where indeed?’ Jamaspa agreed. ‘Shall I go down and announce you?’

  Marcroy smiled as he looked down over the valley and the flurry of activity. The sun was almost sunk behind the hills now and in the east, the very first stars of the night were awakening against the velvet darkness. ‘I rather think they’ve noticed, don’t you?’

  Jamaspa glanced over the valley and bobbed up and down as he nodded. ‘I rather think they have. Will you walk on ahead with me, Marcroy, so that we may ensure the way is clear for your queen?’

  Marcroy thought it an odd request. They could have all waned themselves down to the massive stone circle of Sí an Bhrú but Jamaspa must have something he wanted to tell him. Something that he did not want to share with Orlagh.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, and then turned to his sister. ‘If that’s all right with you, beloved?’

  ‘Go, dear brother,’ Orlagh urged. ‘Play the diplomat for me. I will be down when the sun is fully set.’

  Marcroy bowed to his sister and turned to follow the djinni. Once they were down the slope a way, out of earshot of the queen, Jamaspa paused and glanced at Marcroy.

  ‘Do you remember, cousin, the young woman the humans sent to Sí an Bhrú to collect the seed of Darragh of the Undivided before his demise?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ Marcroy said, hoping Orlagh had no notion of their discussion. He glanced up the slope at her, but she was paying no attention to them, engrossed in the horde of lesser sídhe that clustered around her, vying for her attention.

  ‘Was this human girl important, do you think, in the grand scheme of things?’

  ‘Only if she is with child and somewhere we can’t do anything about it. Why?’

  ‘Did you know she is missing?’

  ‘The Druids pretend she never existed.’ He looked at Jamaspa with alarm. ‘You told me you’d taken care of her.’

  ‘Well …’ the djinni said. ‘I did.’

  ‘And …?’ Marcroy asked impatiently. They were less than an hour from the power tranfer — less than an hour from RónánDarragh being removed from the equation — less than an hour from the threat they represented being eliminated forever. He didn’t have time for this.

  ‘I may have lost her … a little bit.’

  Marcroy felt himself go cold all over. ‘You what?’

  Jamaspa’s blue smoke thinned and faded with embarrassment. ‘It’s not my fault. I thought I had her secured. I trapped her in the jewel we used to gain entrance to Sí an Bhrú.’

  ‘Then she is still trapped in the jewel, surely,’ Marcroy pointed out. ‘None but a Djinn has the power to release her. She is safely out of the way, imprisoned in the jewel. If you destroy the jewel then all will be well.’

  ‘And I would, cousin,’ Jamaspa muttered. ‘If I had it.’

  Marcroy stared at him in horror. ‘You lost the jewel?’

  ‘I think it was stolen. You know what humans are like.’

  This can’t be happening. Not now. Not tonight. ‘Then where is it? Where is the girl who might be carrying the get of RónánDarragh?’

  ‘Not here to cause trouble,’ the djinni pointed out, a little defensively.

  Marcroy shook his head, finding it hard to grasp how something like this could happen when they were so close to success. ‘We have to find her, Jamaspa. We have to find that jewel. Both of them — the girl and the jewel — need to be destroyed or everything we are doing here tonight will have been for nothing.’

  CHAPTER 44

  Without intending to, Trása had become queen of the Faerie.

  The role had fallen to her by default. In this reality where the Tuatha Dé Danann were a distant memory, where only the lesser sídhe and lesser Youkai remained, she was someone they could look to for guidance. Someone the lesser Faerie believed would protect them in a world where their eradication was all but assured if they didn’t find a way to fight back.

  The sídhe of this world were an odd mix of Faerie folk. Aelf and dryads, sprites and pixies, gnomes and nixes, many of them of no particular race or gender. These were the elemental creatures of the realm and had little interaction with the mundane species of their reality, which was the main reason they were still alive, Trása suspected. These were the creatures rarely seen by humans.

  They had their own version of the Undivided here, although exactly
how long ago they had shared their magic with humans was lost in the mists of time. Those who might remember — the Tuatha Dé Danann, the Djinn, even the greater Youkai — were all dead, driven through rifts where they perished from the lack of magic.

  The lesser Youkai and sídhe that survived had coped as best they could. The Leipreachán had tried to embrace their new reality by emulating the warriors of this realm. Trása smiled every time she met another one, Rónán’s description of them as ninja-Faeries still making her smile. They spoke the same language as the Leipreachán in her realm, but they had taken Japanese names — or mangled versions of them — and dressed like little ninjas. Their weapons were made of airgead sídhe, but they were the weapons of their conquerors, rather than the shillelaghs the Leipreachán of her realm carried. They carried katanas and shuriken and nunchakus — which Trása had a sneaking suspicion not a single one of them was capable of using without knocking themselves out.

  Their relief at her arrival was pathetic. They were so hungry for guidance, for some sense that the greater sídhe of their realm were watching over the world, ensuring all was right with it. And they were universally convinced that SvenHendrick’s dying act had been to find this brave and fearless half-beansídhe, half-human saviour and send her to this realm to take care of the evil twins, Teagan and Isleen.

  Trása wasn’t really sure about their adoration. In her own world, she was an unwanted mongrel, belonging neither in the sídhe world or the human one. Here the wee folk just wanted to be near her, just wanted to bask in the glory of her presence, the way the lesser sídhe in her realm basked in Queen Orlagh’s splendour.

  There was no way of telling them the truth without breaking their hearts. There was no way of explaining that she had fallen through the rift into this realm by accident and she had no hope of opening another one on her own. There was no way to tell them she had never heard of Sven or Hendrick.