Riftkeepers: Reckoning

by Carrie Whitethorne

  The doorway was tiny, and she groaned realising there was no way she could fit through without crawling.

  You’re already soaked. May as well get shit up with mud.

  Placing the torch on the floor, she pointed it into the room and checked her pocket. The stone Markus had sent her was shoved deep into her jacket, the pocket zipped. Cringing, she got on her hands and knees. Shaking her head, she passed into the room.

  The things I do.

  The circular space was surprisingly large. Its stone block ceiling was conical and allowed her to stand full height in the centre. There were no windows, no doors except the one she’d just crawled through, and the stone walls were coated in moss. To the right was a piece of rock that looked as if it would serve as a low bench. Moving towards it, she pulled the opal from her pocket and sat down.

  Now what? Wait? Say something? Surely it knows I’m here; I made enough noise.

  Fiddling with the stone, she looked around and waited. A splash in the water out in the tunnel startled her and she closed her eyes.

  Hide the power. You’re fine. There’s no one here but you and the spriggan. Whatever that is.

  Holding the stone up, she examined it for the first time. It seemed to drink in the weak torchlight, igniting a rainbow of shimmering colour on its surface.

  There was an intake of breath at her side that matched her own as she gazed down at the opal. She started at the sound and said, “Hello? I need your help.”

  “Help?” a soft, breathy voice asked. No louder than a light breeze through the leaves of a tree, the gentle murmur was almost lost to the sound of her own breathing.

  Shit. Gently. Carefully.

  “Yes. I…I need help to find someone. I hoped that I could exchange this opal for a stone you have in your…collection,” she stammered into the gloom.

  The creature dropped its wards, allowing her to see the room as it truly was. Littered with coins and jewellery, the floor was dry, the walls free from moss, and a small fire burned in the centre. Against the rear wall, opposite the door, was a large chest. Movement to her left drew her attention; turning her head, she found herself face to face with the spriggan.

  Its large, green eyes were fixed on the opal in her hand. Charlotte smiled at the little creature. It was tiny. No more than a foot high and so slender it looked as though it were made of twigs.

  “Let me see,” it whispered, tentatively reaching out a spindly hand.

  Charlotte closed her hand around the opal and said firmly, “An exchange.”

  The wide eyes narrowed slightly, assessing her. Its face was small and flat, gleaming like polished wood with a narrow nose and lipless mouth; the only features that resembled those of a human. “No exchange,” came the whispered reply.

  “Okay,” Charlotte said and smiled, “thank you for your time.” She pushed the stone back into her coat and fastened the zip.

  Before she could rise, the creature hissed in frustration and said, “Wait. I show.”

  Its tree like body creaked and groaned as it skipped to the chest, digging through layers of shiny objects. Sighed complaints and gasps of awe drifted through the room, as though it were seeing its trove for the first time. Eventually, it came back to her holding what appeared to be a large ruby. “See, I see?”

  Slowly, Charlotte withdrew the opal from her pocket. Half the size of the Alexander stone, it shone twice as brightly. The spriggan gaped, holding the stone out to her.

  “Take, you give,” it whispered.

  This is too easy.

  “How do I know this is the stone I asked for?” she asked warily.

  The spriggan made an exasperated sound, pointed to her hand and said, “See. Ruby,” then skipped to the fire. It came back with a flaming twig in its tiny hand. Holding the stone up to the flames, it said, “Now emerald. I find. You keep.” Its eyes glittered in the firelight, wide and expectant.

  “If you’ve lied, I will come back,” she warned and took the stone. The spriggan held out its empty hand for the opal and Charlotte gently pressed it into the waiting bark covered palm. “Thank you.”

  She rose from the low bench and looked at the stone. It was deep red in colour away from the firelight. As she pushed it into her pocket, the light in the room shifted. Flicking her eyes towards the spriggan, she gasped as it grew before her eyes. Its limbs thickened and elongated, its body expanding to replicate the trunk of an old gnarled tree.

  Bollocks. Trust Dagda to be right.

  It towered over her, its head brushing the ceiling. In a deep, rumbling voice, it demanded, “Stone.”

  With a weary sigh, Charlotte cocked her head, preparing to defend herself.

  “Really? In here?”

  A strong, branch like arm swung at her in answer. Instinctively dropping to a crouch, she said, “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  The spriggan laughed, the sound reminding her of branches groaning and creaking in a heavy wind, as it aimed a kick at her face. Dragging its lump of a foot through the small fire, embers sprayed into the air.

  Shadow shielding her, flame was her response. Hot and fierce, it sprang up at the spriggan’s feet, forcing it to leap back with an angry roar.

  “I leave, you live,” she said, straightening and stepping forward. The spriggan retreated another step. “Let me leave,” she growled through clenched teeth.

  With furious, rasping breaths, the creature glared at her, considering its options. Without warning, the room faded back to the empty moss-covered space she’d arrived in. Checking the stone was still firmly in her pocket, she fastened the zip and made her way quickly into the narrow passage, sliding through the small doorway feet first.

  On her feet, she scowled and sealed the door to the room with fire. “Little bastard,” she muttered, turning and moving as quickly as she could through the narrow passage.

  Sloshing through the puddle, her shoulders sagged with relief and she recalled her fire. The tunnel was plunged into darkness behind her as she emerged into the fresh air and looked up at the clear night sky. Glancing around, she saw the fire Callan had kept burning for her and set off at a jog.

  Callan, you had better start running, because when I catch you, you’re dead.

  She heard their raucous laughter before they came into view. Dane could barely breathe. Callan was wiping tears from his eyes as she raised her hand, shade knocking him back. He landed with a thud on the ground, still laughing as she fumed. “You knew it was going to attack me! Shut up, Dane! Fucking thing tried to kick me in the face!”

  The gate slammed shut behind her as she stalked to Callan, standing over him, seething. “You’re a dick! Who does that?” she scolded, looking wildly from Callan to Dane.

  He held out a hand and Dane hauled him from the ground. “It couldn’t have hurt you. You’d have burned it to cinders!”

  “I thought she had when it started screaming! Come on, Lottie, it was a bit funny.”

  Ignoring him, she tossed the stone to Callan and snapped, “Take this stupid thing.”

  He caught it with ease and held out his other hand. She glared at it, then looked to Dane. His eyes still danced, a smile playing around his lips.

  “I’ll see you there,” she said, taking Callan’s extended hand.

  Markus looked her over from head to foot and drawled, “You were successful, I take it?”

  Scowling, she took the glass Dursek was offering and flopped into an armchair.

  Callan smirked as he explained, “It tried to double-cross her. She isn’t pleased.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him and Dane started laughing again. Markus pressed his hand to his mouth to hide the smile on his face.

  Draining her glass, she slammed it down on the tray that Dursek was still holding out and raised her brows. He dutifully refilled it and bowed as he returned to her side. “Thank you, Dursek,” she said, taking another large swallow.

  Callan held out his hand to Markus. “At least she got the stone.” He took the seat be
side her.

  “Yes, well done, Charlotte,” he said, holding it up to the light. “Now to see if it does, in fact, reveal identities.”

  Her face slackened. “You mean you aren’t sure?”

  Markus shrugged. “I’m as sure as I can be,” he said simply, igniting her rage.

  You people are unbelievable.

  I can hear you.

  I know!

  With a low chuckle, he crossed the room and passed her the stone. Its colour shifted in the light as she turned it over in her fingers, captivated by the deep emerald green and rich ruby red. Dane moved to stand behind her.

  “What do I do?”

  “Think of the voice. Hear it in your mind. The stone should follow your lead,” he instructed, taking a step back.

  “Stop staring at me,” she grumbled, gazing down at the ruby in her palm.

  The voice. What did it sound like? It didn’t sound like anything. Anyone. It just, was.

  The colour drained from the stone, leaving it translucent. Shuffling forward in her seat, Charlotte hunched over to watch as an image appeared within.

  Her hands shook, her grip on the stone lost, and it tumbled to the floor. Markus picked it up, holding it up between his forefinger and thumb, his face a mask of fury. Dane hissed a curse behind her, Callan sagged back in the chair, rubbing a finger along his brow. The room fell silent for a few moments, then Markus disappeared.

  “What if it’s wrong?” Charlotte asked, her voice uneven.

  “It isn’t,” Dane growled.

  “Callan?” She looked over to him, sat with his hands pressed to his forehead. “Callan!”

  He looked over to her, all colour drained from his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Charlotte left her seat and paced the room, becoming angry. “I should have ripped her head off when I had her downstairs!” she raged. “Where’s Markus gone?”

  “No idea. I honestly have never seen him so incensed.”

  “What are we going to do?” she muttered.

  “Kill her!” Callan barked. “Nothing’s changed. She’s still the threat.”

  Charlotte stopped her pacing. “She’s a princess, Callan.”

  “She is no such thing,” Markus said frostily, throwing his brother to the floor at her feet. “Explain, Petr. Charlotte, if he moves...”

  Five

  Petr didn’t attempt to get up. She searched Markus’ face for a hint of what to do. He cocked an expectant brow in answer.

  Here we go again…

  Shrugging out of her jacket, she sighed and allowed the rage she was suppressing to flood her.

  “Petr,” she said coolly, “tell us where she is.”

  He shook his head. “I do not know, Princess.” His thin voice barely carried from where he cowered before her.

  She clicked her tongue, shadow seeping from her body. “I don’t believe that. Where is she?”

  He met her cold stare. “I do not know.”

  “Watch your tone,” Callan said quietly, rising. She glanced at him, then his sword.

  Where do these bloody swords appear from?

  Petr didn’t look up as he said, “I have seen nothing of her since the solstice ball. I…I forbade her attendance.”

  Becoming frustrated, she tore into his mind, searching for the truth, seeking out any fragment of information that would tell them where Nyja could be. She came up empty. Her hand opened and her shadow gripped him, flipping him over, pinning him on his back. Her eyes flashing violet as she growled through gritted teeth. “If you’re protecting her, I’ll burn you alive.”

  She held his terrified gaze for a moment, before stepping away, joining Callan. Looking down at him with disgust, she said, “He doesn’t know anything, Markus.”

  A guard entered the room, bowing as he drew level with the king.

  “My brother is confined to his suite. He is not to leave and is to receive no visitors,” Markus ordered, holding Petr in an icy glare.

  The guard nodded and hauled Petr from the floor by his arm.

  “I could assist—” he began. Markus nodded to the guard and they disappeared.

  With a quiet snarl, Markus slammed the stone onto his desk.

  No one spoke for several minutes.

  “What now?” Dane asked eventually, watching Markus closely.

  “We find her,” Callan said quietly. “And we kill her. I should never—”

  Callan, stop it. None of this is your fault. She’s mental. I pissed her off. Crazy bitch went crazy.

  Taking a glass from Dursek, Markus said, “No, Callan, we wait.”

  “Wait?” Dane asked, frowning.

  “She will come to us, Dane. Nyja has always been ambitious; hence the chase.” He nodded towards Callan. “We let her come to us; to try and take my throne.”

  Charlotte gawked. “Markus, if she breaches the castle…”

  “She isn’t stupid enough to bring the fight here, surely?” Callan asked.

  Dane gave him a knowing look and said, “You know full well how tenacious she is, Callan.”

  He shuddered and grasped Charlotte’s hand.

  “With help from little Zander”—Markus smiled, looking between her and Callan—“we’ll work to alter the wards. She’ll never gain enough power to overthrow Zander’s defences.”

  They sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts for a few minutes.

  “I’ll call the meeting,” Dane said.

  “What meeting?”

  “My council, Charlotte,” Markus said. He smiled reassuringly and added, “Please don’t worry. They’re nothing like Taran’s…friends. It can wait until tomorrow. I’m sure you’ve had enough for one day.”

  Turning back to her seat, she reached for her wine and drained the glass.

  Perfect. More meetings, more talking, more expectation.

  We expect nothing from you, Charlotte.

  Yes, you do, Markus. Who’s expected to sort your mental niece out? Whose responsibility is it to take down that prick that abandoned me and killed my mum in his quest for power? It’s all on me, and I’m...I’ve got kids! I’m supposed to be raising them, not fighting impossible wars with impossible powers and faeries!

  Turning to face him, her eyes filled with tears as she recognised the pain and sadness in his.

  I’m sorry. If I could do anything to take this burden from you, I would.

  Dropping Callan’s hand, she hung her head, her shoulders slumped, and a quiet sob followed her defeated sigh. Markus crossed the space between them and stroked his hand over her mud-spattered hair. Leaning into him, her head on his chest, she cried quietly, her arms at her sides. Callan stood motionless, watching as Markus held her.

  You will have the best protection either court can provide. Your children are safe. On my honour, your children’s safety is the top priority of my court. I shall work with Taran, my oldest friend, to train them and maintain their safety.

  You are the most powerful woman I have ever met; human, Druid or Fae. Your strength, your determination, the love you have for us, when we have done very little to earn it… we will protect you, Charlotte. We are all willing to lay down our lives for yours.

  Kissing the top of her head tenderly, he leaned back and lifted her chin with a finger. “I promise you,” he whispered, holding her gaze.

  She offered a thin smile and lowered her eyes. “Thank you.”

  Dane cleared his throat and said, “Lottie, you might need to come and stay for a few days. Is that okay?”

  She nodded and murmured, “Can we go home for tonight?”

  Releasing her from his arms, Markus looked at Callan and said, “I will arrange your usual suite. Until tomorrow.”

  Callan gave a stiff nod and pulled her close. “Ready?”

  “What happened?” Alayna gasped as she took in the mud smeared on her clothes.

  Great. House full when all I want is a shower and bed.

  “Had a bit of a scrap with the spriggan, double-crossing little…
” She stopped herself from launching into a string of expletives and took a calming breath. “Anyway. I got the stone, used it, and we got held up questioning Petr,” she explained, flicking her eyes to Dagda, but the expected jibe didn’t come. Instead, he furrowed his brow and asked, “Petr? What’s he got to do with anything?”

  Callan left the room.

  Sitting on the edge of the sofa, Charlotte hoped he was getting her a drink. “Nyja was the one who pulled Robert from the mountain,” she answered gravely. “Markus hauled Petr in so I could…” Her words trailed off as she noticed their responses.

  Alayna had visibly paled. Dagda growled a curse.

  Callan said from behind her, “It’ll get nasty. She’s lost it.”

  Handing her a glass of wine, he perched on the arm of a sofa, draining a glass of his own.

  From the silence, Ferne asked, “Who’s Nyja?”

  Dagda and Alayna looked to Callan as he drained his glass. After a pause, he said, “Dane’s cousin. She’s a princess of the Un-Seelie court who thought to marry here. I turned her down.”

  “Repeatedly,” Dagda mumbled.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh”, she mouthed, and looked awkwardly away.

  “There’s a meeting at Houska tomorrow. Dane’s arranging it. We’ll have to put on Caoimhe again, and Markus wants Zander to look at their wards.”

  Alayna smiled to Charlotte reassuringly. “Ma won’t mind. She knows this is important.”

  Callan and Dagda began discussing the plans for Zander to stay at Houska to improve the wards further, the extra training he would need, and how Enya would fit into their training sessions. Alayna listened, her face set with concern.

  “Ferne?” Charlotte said, noticing her glazed expression.

  “Hmm? Sorry, what?”

  “Are you okay?”

  She sighed. “Yeah. I’m just trying to make sense of it all in my head. I don’t know half of these people.”