Riftkeepers: Reckoning

by Carrie Whitethorne

  Got one.

  Grinning, she said, “Blair, watch him.” He stepped to her side, a hand on a sword she hadn’t realised he was carrying.

  Placing her hands on the table, she leaned forward slightly. “What are you hiding? “she purred.

  A feral snarl tore from the faerie’s twisted mouth in reply. At once, Blair was on him, his sword at his throat. “You move, you die,” he warned in a low growl.

  “You’re first,” she sang, staring him down.

  Brilliantly done.

  “This is an outrage,” Arthur roared, turning to Taran. “This human has no authority in our court.”

  Dane cleared his throat as Arthur’s arm twisted up the back of his chair at an odd angle. Dane hadn’t moved from his seat.

  “You’re second,” she said mildly. “Any more objections?”

  You’re very good at this. You should come and work with me.

  She ignored Markus’ praise and scanned the room. “Good. Markus, Dane, when you’re ready.”

  When the Seelie council had left, Charlotte finally relaxed. Slouching in her chair, she closed her eyes and huffed out a long breath.

  “Well, it’s nice to know that Arthur’s just a wanker,” she said, accepting the wine Markus offered and taking a large mouthful.

  “Indeed,” he drawled. “Never did like him.”

  “I must admit he surprised me,” Taran said. “You, however, performed wonderfully, Charlotte. Well done.” He raised his glass, eyes creasing as he smiled.

  She raised her brows over the rim of her glass as she took another gulp of wine.

  “I hate being the bad guy,” she sighed as Callan sat beside her.

  “You’re the good guy,” he reminded her.

  “Scary though,” Dagda muttered. “You scared Alayna off again.”

  “Don’t you start! I’ve had that from Dane already. And I did not scare Alayna off!”

  Dagda shrugged and drained his glass. “I need to get back. Ferne…”

  Dane and Callan groaned. Dagda was about to snap a retort when Konrad strode into the room.

  “Pardon me, My Lords,” he began, opening a map and spreading it on the table. “I have located the stone.”

  “Where is it?” Markus asked.

  He smiled as he met Markus’ gaze. “Surprisingly, Cornwall.”

  “Great,” Charlotte muttered, draining her glass. “Here we go again.”

  Three

  Charlotte studied the map spread on the table as they discussed the location of the stone.

  “How on earth did it end up there, Konrad?” Taran asked.

  “From what I could make out,” he said accepting a glass of whisky from Dagda, “it was taken when the Winter Palace was ransacked. It fell into the hands of a witch who carried it into Europe, and was then taken by a spriggan.”

  “What’s a spriggan?”

  “Filthy, hoarding, thieving vermin,” Dagda growled with disgust.

  Taran rolled his eyes and said, “Dagda upset one in his youth and now dislikes the creatures with a passion.” Dane sniggered, nudging Dagda’s elbow as he drained his glass.

  “Spriggans,” Taran went on, “are small creatures that usually live in woodlands and barrows. More slender than a brownie, and around half their height, they hoard shiny things. The Alexander stone would be the prize possession of one of the little beasts.”

  Dagda mumbled something and poured another drink as she asked, “Are they dangerous?”

  “No,” Taran said, looking pointedly at his eldest son. “At least not when approached correctly.”

  Dagda snorted. “Take something valuable in exchange. It shouldn’t kill you.”

  “Thanks for that,” she grumbled, turning to Konrad. “Thank you for taking the time to track it down for us.”

  With a warm smile, Konrad bowed and said, “It is a pleasure, Princess. If ever I can be of help, do not hesitate to send word.”

  “Carn Euny,” Callan murmured. “I haven’t been there in a long time.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Charlotte remarked, looking back to the map.

  “It’s a ruin now. Iron age settlement,” he explained absently, tracing a finger over the paper.

  She made a tutting sound. “I keep forgetting you’re all bloody ancient. Why would you go there?”

  Markus laughed into his glass and said, “She’s much more fun after a glass of wine has loosened her tongue, Taran.”

  Taran flashed his brows over the rim of his glass as he drank.

  Dane said, “We used to do the rounds when we were young, helping to build their homes, harvest their crops. They knew how to enjoy themselves.” He gave her a slow wink, glancing to Callan.

  Callan cleared his throat as she pulled a sour face and elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Alright, so, this is the fogou,” he said, rapidly changing the subject and tapping an area on the map. “It’s probably living in there.”

  Charlotte gave a frustrated sigh. “Can you explain this in modern English please?”

  “It’s a manmade cave, for want of a better description,” Taran clarified. “Used as a place of worship and the like. There should be a small room off to one side where the creature probably lives, hidden by wards.”

  “Would it be prudent to mention their mistrust of faeries?” Konrad asked tentatively.

  “Yes, Konrad; yes, it would,” Charlotte said, glaring at Callan. “I’m going to have to do this on my own, aren’t I?”

  Dagda guffawed and tipped his glass to her. When no one else yielded a response, she snapped, “Fine! What am I offering in exchange?”

  “I have an extremely rare crystal opal somewhere. It may be enough,” Markus said with a smirk, placing his glass on the table. “Dane can collect it tomorrow. I must return to Houska. I have been gone too long already.”

  He said goodbye to them individually and left with Konrad.

  “He’s growing on me,” she smiled.

  Taran barked a laugh. “Don’t tell him that! It’s time I went home. Leave the children with us tonight. It’s late and Caoimhe will have them ready for bed. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Taran,” she said, kissing his cheek.

  “We can take this home and discuss it later,” Callan said, rolling the paper carefully. “Coming for a drink, Dane? Dagda?” Charlotte asked.

  “No, thanks. I’m knackered. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dane kissed her cheek and left.

  “Come back to mine. Ferne will be glad of the company after today. I was supposed to be home three hours ago,” Dagda suggested.

  Charlotte laughed and took Callan’s hand. “You mean you need a shield in case she kicks off?”

  “Glad you could join me,” Ferne said against his lips as Dagda kissed her.

  “Charlotte’s fault,” he said, heading into the kitchen. Callan followed him as Ferne led Charlotte into the lounge. The house was an identical copy of theirs, except it was simply furnished and not yet decorated. Ferne curled herself up on the largest of the two sofas; Charlotte took the one opposite.

  “Sorry, Taran made me head a council meeting.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve been sorting through the clothes and stuff I brought with me. I assumed he was stuck at work when it got to six o’clock. Then seven.”

  “How long are you here for then? Or is this it?”

  “I’ve put two weeks leave in at work. See how it goes,” she grinned. “I can’t believe it!” she added in an excited whisper.

  “No, neither can I. What were the chances? I’m glad you’re here though, Fe.”

  “What happened at work then?” she asked, taking a glass of wine from Dagda.

  What didn’t happen? It’s all or nothing.

  “Charlotte scared the council half to death then made Dane dig through their minds. It was fun,” he said, handing a glass to Charlotte.

  “It was one of the more interesting days we’ve had recently,” Callan agreed, his eyes shining as he
glanced at Charlotte.

  “You really have gone all badass, haven’t you?” Ferne asked.

  “No, they deserved it! They’ve been talking to me like shit for months. No one was hurt. Just a few battered egos. Oh, and I received a job offer from Markus.”

  Callan and Dagda looked at her like she’d sworn. “It was a joke! Markus doesn’t want me under his feet all day, waiting to need me to put the frighteners on someone,” she said, rolling her eyes. She looked back to Ferne. “Looks like the lunatic’s new friend has mind control on their side. After they’d gotten into my head, they went after the council. Dane and Markus cleared them out. Thanks for that, by the way. Callan told me you were the one who realised and got him to sort it.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d rather not have that happening too often. I thought you were going to turn nasty. You were a real bitch, Lottie. Shouting at me and snapping every two minutes. You weren’t very nice to poor Callan either! It scared me!”

  Charlotte looked away, tears stinging her eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry, Fe. I’d never hurt you. I tried to…I was fighting it.”

  “It’s done with now,” Dagda said gruffly, giving Ferne a warning look that she either didn’t notice or ignored. He then looked to Callan and asked, “When are you going for the stone?”

  “Tomorrow evening okay with you?” he asked, looking to Charlotte.

  She nodded and said, “Whenever.”

  Makes few odds to you lot. It’s me crawling into that little hole to barter with the beast.

  Ferne began asking questions about the stone, their trip, and Markus to familiarise herself with the various goings on since everyone would be discussing them around her all week. Charlotte sat quietly, sipping her wine as they chatted. Callan glanced to her now and then, but appeared to remain engaged and interested with Ferne. When her glass was empty, she sent a thought to Callan.

  Callan, I’ve had enough. I want to go home.

  “We have a busy day tomorrow; we should go,” he said, placing his glass on the table.

  She did the same and left the room quickly, without saying goodbye.

  Callan caught her up, grasping her hand before she made it to the door and saved her the walk.

  In the privacy of their own room, Charlotte fumed. “She’s as subtle as a fucking brick!”

  “Yeah,” he agreed with a tight smile, and reached for her. “Don’t let her upset you. She didn’t mean any offense, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, she did. I love her to bits, but it’s always woe is fucking Ferne. She’d change her tune if she saw what we have to face to keep her safe!” She stepped away from him and stormed into the bathroom.

  “Charlotte, calm down,” he sighed, looking after her.

  The door slammed in answer.

  Calm down? I’ve spent half the day seeing and hearing about how terrifying I am. I didn’t ask for this shit!

  Glancing in the mirror, she caught a glimpse of violet and instantly checked her body for flames. Seeing none, she looked back at the mirror and noticed her irises glinted and flickered like her flames.

  That’s new…

  Blinking a few times, she checked herself over. There was no tingling; no familiar sign of her abilities stirring anywhere within her.

  What is that?

  She blinked again, and her eyes returned to their usual dull hazel. Too tired to broach the subject with Callan, too annoyed to think about what was waiting for her tomorrow, she showered.

  Callan had sat in the centre of the bed, the map spread before him, when she returned to the bedroom.

  “Better?” he asked cautiously.

  “A bit. I’m tired. Can we not...?” she asked, nodding to the map.

  Rolling it up, he leaned over and slid it beneath the bed. “Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head, dropping her towel, and pulled one of Callan’s t-shirts over her head.

  “Don’t you have enough nightwear?” he said, laughing.

  She shrugged and climbed into bed.

  “Do you need anything?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Charlotte. What’s wrong?” he asked, moving up the bed to join her.

  “I’m pissed off.”

  “You’re always pissed off,” he remarked, masking a smile as he lay back and waited for her to snap a response.

  “Maybe if people didn’t go out of their way to annoy me, my mood would improve,” she grumbled.

  Smiling, he rolled on his side and kissed her shoulder. “I’ll try harder tomorrow.”

  “Not you,” she sighed in exasperation. “Them.”

  She felt his breath on her neck as he laughed to himself. She scowled, pulling the duvet higher. Callan flicked off the light, accepting the dismissal. A few minutes passed before Charlotte inched back towards him, turned over, and cuddled into his shoulder.

  There was a gentle tap on the front door just as they were about to leave for Avalon. “It’s Ferne. Ignore it,” she whispered.

  “I will not. Stop being so churlish and speak to her while I collect Zander and Enya,” he said, indignantly pulling the front door open. “Come in, Ferne. I’m just going to collect the children.”

  She hovered in the doorway for a moment until Callan pressed his hand gently into her back and pushed her inside. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, closing the door and leaving.

  “I’ll put the kettle on,” Charlotte said frostily.

  Ferne followed her and sat at the island. “Lottie, I didn’t mean to upset you last night. You know what I’m like—”

  “Yes, I do. Dagda’s the same. It’s usually him that does it. You’re well matched,” she said, fighting to keep her tone light and even.

  “He went mad when you left,” Ferne told her sadly. “He explained what it’s been like for you. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

  Dagda backed my corner? Wow…

  She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It just gets a bit tiring hearing how much everyone hates you.”

  Ferne’s eyes swam as she whispered, “I could never hate you, Lottie.”

  Charlotte sighed and offered Ferne a wan smile. “You’re in a minority. It doesn’t matter. I have Cornwall to worry about today.”

  Ferne sat quietly as the kettle boiled and Charlotte made tea.

  Pushing a mug towards her, Charlotte softened and said, “I can’t keep it up, Fe. I keep hoping I’m going to wake up and it’s all been a mental dream. I’m going to barter with a spriggan tonight. I don’t even know what they’re supposed to look like. Dagda hates them and Callan can’t come with me because they hate faeries. It’s all bonkers.”

  “I’ve struggled enough and I’ve only got you and your family to wrap my head around,” Ferne admitted. “Can’t they send someone else?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “I haven’t asked. Once we have the stone, we can see who we need to…” She stopped, hating to admit the truth of it. Her mouth dry, she sipped her tea and said, “I’m going to have to kill someone.”

  Ferne put her mug down and thought for a moment. “Look. This isn’t just someone,” she said meaningfully. “You did okay at that cave. Dagda said you were amazing. Whatever you did there to get through it, do it again, then come home.”

  What if I don’t come home though? What if it goes badly?

  I need to get more practice in. Make sure I do come home.

  Training is everything. They can defend themselves. I have to be able to do the same.

  “Do you want to come training with us?” she asked, the words spoken before she’d had the chance to realise what they meant. “You could do with some combat training, just in case.”

  “Am I allowed?” Ferne asked, uncertain.

  “What? You can do what you like!” she said firmly, surprised at Ferne’s assumption that she needed permission. “As for coming up there, you already visit the palace. It’ll be fun watching you get your arse kicked by Dane, anyway,” she added with a grin. “I’ll sort it out when we get back.”

>   “Sounds like loads of fun. Will I get to see you using your magic, too?” she asked excitedly.

  “You’ll see us all. We split into teams and have little fights. It’s more for the kids, but I get some practice in, too.”

  “I’ll have to get something to wear! What do you wear?”

  Shaking her head, Charlotte gave a short laugh and said, “Just leggings, tight top, and trainers will be fine. Nothing loose; hair braided back. I’ll sort it with Callan. If we go up tomorrow, I’ll come and get you.”

  I’ll just have to hope no one gives her a dagger.

  Four

  Dane and Callan had agreed to wait for her at the gate. It creaked shut behind her as she clicked on the small torch Callan had given her. Having studied the map earlier, she made her way to where she thought the cave entrance should be, boots sinking into the mud as she squelched her way through the ancient site.

  Of course it’s wet. Why can’t we have to visit the Bahamas for a change?

  She glanced back to where they waited to see a small fire burning.

  At least I know where to run if it goes pear-shaped.

  Recognising the huge slabs of stone that framed the fogou doorway, she stooped and shone her torch inside. The dirt floor was covered by a puddle of water that filled the first few feet of what appeared to be a long, narrow tunnel. Roughhewn stone blocks formed the squat walls, slabs of stone placed over them to create a ceiling. Moss covered every surface.

  It looks sturdy enough. Don’t suppose it’d be open like this if it weren’t safe.

  Angling the torch, she could make out the entrance to the small room Taran had mentioned. It was half the height of the wall and looked to be a tight squeeze. Huffing out a sigh, she bent lower and shuffled inside. The heady smell of the moss, damp, and earth clung in her nose. A small step, hidden by the pond at the entrance, caused her to slip, the splash soaking her trousers. Swearing under her breath, she moved slowly on, each shuffling, sloshing step echoing in the narrow tunnel. Conscious of the noise, she glanced behind nervously.

  If the thing thinks I’m a threat it’ll…don’t think about it.

  She considered using her fire to improve her vision and warm the space, but remembering Ezra’s reaction, decided it would be safer to keep her power hidden. As the small entrance inched closer, her nerves jumped at intervals and she repeatedly stopped to listen. The only sound was that of her own nervous breaths bouncing off the walls of the tight passageway. Now out of the puddle, she moved more quickly, her boots scuffing on the dirt floor.