The Exile: Book One of the Fae

by C. T. Adams

  Oh, shit. He had to ride a horse. Not just any old horse, either. This was a huge warhorse, a bay with long white hair on all four legs that made it look something like a Clydesdale. Its mane and tail were braided with black and silver ribbons and its saddle blanket was black with silver fringe. The saddle was well worn and well cared for.

  Kenneth told Nick this was Dancer, who had been Haldar’s mount, and assured him the animal was smart and well trained enough that even a novice should be able to ride him easily. Nick sure as hell hoped so, because a drop from a horse that tall would hurt.

  Kenneth introduced Loog, the ogre. Loog was easily ten feet tall and nearly as wide. Heavily muscled, with thick green-gray skin covered in lumps and sores, he stank. Nick couldn’t quite break it down in his mind. The closest he could come to describing it was a combination of sulfur and BO, or rotten eggs and bile, with maybe just a touch of cat piss thrown in.

  The ogre’s face was misshapen and ugly. His disposition worse. He had been ordered by the innkeeper to haul the cart, and he’d do it. But he wasn’t happy about it.

  The female guard, Syrelle, rode in the cart with David, having given her horse to Kenneth. The cart’s original driver rode his own mount that had been tied to the back of the cart.

  They had reinforcements, a workable cover, and, best of all, he was finally armed. If they were lucky, and they hurried, they might actually make it outside the ring before the storm broke.

  Most of the Sidhe who would be looking for their party would be working spells to unravel illusions, so their group used none. The uniforms would hopefully disguise the humans; Pug rode in the back of the cart, huddled under the tarp that covered the coffin. Anyone looking closely might guess that something was amiss, but in a casual encounter they might pass unnoticed. And in weather like this, a chance encounter was unlikely. Nobody sane would willingly be out on the roads.

  But the best part of the plan as far as Nick was concerned was that he and David were now accompanied by enough guards that anything less than a large group of attackers would think twice about moving on them.

  “Hopefully we will get past the ring without incident,” Kenneth said as he held Dancer’s reins while Nick mounted. “But if we’re attacked, I want you, David, and Pug to do whatever you must to get past the ring. Don’t try to stay and fight—run. Once we’ve got you past the ring I can get you the hell out of here and we’ll all be a lot safer.”

  They had barely gotten out of sight of the inn when the sky opened up and drenching rain began pouring down, the wind driving it so that visibility was limited.

  Even in the rain, the stench of the ogre was terrible. Nick’s cloak had apparently been spelled to keep it from flapping around, but the waterproofing could only do so much. It was simply a matter of time before his clothes were soaked through and he began to feel chilled.

  They had traveled like that for a few miles, settling into a steady, if unpleasant, rhythm when the cart abruptly jerked to a rocking halt and Loog let out a deafening basso bellow that was cut off when arrows pierced his throat.

  Nick pulled his gun, fighting to control his mount as it shied and bucked, startled by a blast of flaming magic aimed directly at its chest. From the corner of his eye he saw David pull a shotgun from beneath the cart’s seat, stand, and fire into the bushes beside the road. Something there screamed in pain.

  It was luck more than skill that kept Nick from being crushed when his horse fell, killed beneath him. Kenneth leapt into position above him, flames dancing in his left hand as he fired shot after shot from the Glock in his right. The whole time Nick spent scrambling to his feet, Kenneth stood there like a rock, unflinching even as an enemy rider charged straight at him—only to fall when her horse was hamstrung by Pug. The gargoyle moved in a blur of speed, disappearing up the nearest tree even as the attacker rolled to her feet. Nick shot her twice in the chest. The powerful magical strike she’d been readying to throw at Kenneth dwindled and died along with her.

  David used Loog’s corpse for cover as he loaded more shells in the shotgun, but Nick screamed a warning as he saw more enemies advancing on them from the rear. A Sidhe male, his face shadowed by the hood of his cloak, called out the words of a spell and made a throwing motion, but whatever he intended struck wide as sixty-five pounds of living, solid granite, armed with claws and teeth, dropped onto him from a branch overhead.

  The gargoyle rode the attacker off the horse, which panicked, rearing, and blocking Nick’s view for a moment. The next thing Nick saw was a dismembered head with a long red braid flying into the night.

  “Go, go, go!” Kenneth waved Nick and David toward the woods.

  “Come on.” David was just suddenly beside Nick, tugging at his arm. They sprinted for the woods. Nick didn’t like leaving their allies in the middle of a life-and-death battle. He felt as though he was abandoning them. But his gun had already clicked empty and he had no way to protect himself from magical attack.

  The brothers had barely cleared the edge of the woods when a pair of Sidhe women stepped from behind some trees. One threw a shimmering silver net over David, freezing him in place. In the next instant, a swarm of doxies swooped in, going straight for the eyes and necks of the attackers. As the Sidhe and the doxies fought, Nick pulled the net off of his brother, who drew in a huge, gasping breath.

  “We have to keep moving,” Nick shouted above the horrible screeches of the doxies and screams of their victims. Even with the sudden and unexpected appearance of the doxies their side was in trouble. Kenneth and Syrelle were fighting back-to-back in the middle of the road amid the burning ruins of the wagon. The enemies would appear, then disappear, illusion and the rain working to their advantage.

  A war cry erupted from the throats of the remaining mounted guards. They’d regrouped, and now were thundering into the midst of the battle on horseback, weapons drawn and magics ready. One of the riders used her horse to ride down the attacker in front of Kenneth. Reaching an arm down, she helped the guardsman swing up behind her as her partner used a sword to cut off the arm of the Sidhe preparing to throw magic at her back.

  Another pair of riders came up beside the brothers. “Climb up,” the nearest shouted. “Their reinforcements are coming. I can feel it.”

  He didn’t have to say it twice. Stuffing the net into his belt, Nick clambered up out of the gully behind the guard. The second he was settled, they galloped into the woods, moving faster than ever, zigzagging through the trees. Wind and rain pelted them, branches smacked and tore at them.

  Lightning cracked overhead, followed by an ominous roll of thunder. Nick heard hissing just as David shouted a warning. He and the man he was riding with both ducked; a ball of flame passed over their heads, close enough to feel the heat, and smashed into a nearby tree, setting it furiously ablaze despite the storm.

  “I thought they wanted to capture us, not kill us,” Nick muttered.

  “They can’t afford to let us escape alive. Not when we could identify them.”

  He had to be joking. Nick couldn’t see a damned thing in this storm. “I can’t.”

  “I could,” the guard said, weary irony clear in his voice. They rode into a clearing and the guard said, “Get ready.”

  He reined the horse to a stop. It reared, and Nick was dumped unceremoniously onto a slick, wet carpet of leaves and mud. In the next instant Sidhe and horse were galloping. Peering after them in the gloom, Nick would have sworn there were still two men on the horse and that one of them looked exactly like him. Then the rider was gone, and from the sound of things, their pursuers were following him.

  Pug’s claws grasped Nick’s pant leg. “We need to get moving. David and Kenneth are up ahead. The illusions won’t buy us more than a moment. Hurry, and be quiet about it.”

  “Right.” Despite the poor footing and Nick’s unfamiliarity with moving through a forest, he and Pug soon reached a second, smaller clearing. Shimmering in the center was a magical door, much like the one Brianna had
created to bring them into Faerie. Kenneth and David were standing in front of it.

  The second David caught sight of Nick, he dived through the opening.

  Someone shouted behind Nick, who spun and saw a figure pointing in their direction. Kenneth, Pug, and Nick all swore and Nick broke into a scrambling run, straight at the portal. He dived through with Pug at his heels and landed with a thud on the hardwood floor of Brianna’s apartment.

  There was the sound of a gunshot as Kenneth screamed out the harsh words that closed the portal, then fell, his chest a mass of blood.

  30

  BRIANNA HAI

  Brianna felt as though she’d been doused in an icy lake. Her body shook. Her mind refused to wrap itself around the truth of what was happening, even as her father’s guards surrounded her, weapons drawn. They bound her with magically reinforced handcuffs and shackles, then dragged her bodily from the king’s presence, through the crowded banquet hall, and down the passages that led to her father’s study. It was a long, dispiriting trek. But it gave her time to gather herself enough that she regained her feet and managed to shuffle awkwardly under her own power through the hissing, whispering crowd of servants and toadies who came out to witness the spectacle of her humiliation.

  Faced with a coterie of armed guards escorting a prisoner, the nobles who’d gathered outside the study melted into the shadows. A small voice in the back of Brianna’s mind told her to look closely at those dark places, for those people were her enemies. They’d planned to kill her this night. She regained the presence of mind to memorize their faces. Later she would work with Pug or Kenneth to put faces to names. Because while her king may have seen fit to throw her out of Faerie, there were those few with enough human blood to cross the veil to seek her death in the human world.

  She’d hoped she would be allowed the dignity of climbing through the painting on her own, but she was mistaken. She was unceremoniously picked up and flung through like so much trash.

  It was instinct, more than anything that made her tuck her body into a ball and roll as she fell so that the impact of her shoulder on the floor of the hallway was lessened as much as was possible. Even so, she had enough momentum to slam hard into the far wall of her entrance hall, missing slamming her head onto the leg of the occasional table by a fraction of an inch. Her father’s men, meanwhile had taken to throwing her possessions through after her, delicate and breakable items crashing against the floor to their ruin, to be buried moments later in mounds of fabric as elegant gowns that had hung for years in the closets of Abracham House were disposed of without thought or care for their value.

  The noise had brought Pug and the others running to see what was happening.

  “Are those … shackles?” Pug’s voice came from the deep shadows at the top of the staircase leading down to the shop. Brianna could barely see him around the growing pile of junk.

  “Do you need me to help you? We need to get you and the kittens out of the hallway before they get to the furniture.”

  Furniture? What was he talking about? Brianna didn’t have … she followed his gaze to the painting, where she could see a pair of guards walking into her father’s library carrying her mother’s couch.

  Brianna rolled over and got her knees under her. Snagging the black kitten from where he’d jumped to the floor and was batting at a strand of pearls, she dumped him into the laundry basket with his siblings atop the occasional table and staggered to her feet. Grabbing the basket, she stumbled through the mess toward the entrance to the main living area of the apartment. She made it to the doorway as the couch was flung through the portal. It crashed against the wall, breaking through the plasterboard. The wooden frame of the couch cracked from the impact.

  Rage washed over Brianna, but she kept silent. She suspected that her father and the others were watching, eager to see her reaction. She’d be damned if she’d give any of them the satisfaction of seeing how much this hurt her. Aching with pain that had nothing to do with her physical injuries, she staggered unsteadily to her bedroom, carrying the kittens and trying to ignore the sounds of destruction behind her.

  Brianna wanted desperately to just shut the bedroom door behind her, closing herself away from everyone and everything long enough to have a good cry. But tears would have to wait. She needed to know if David, Nick, and the others had made it back safely. She’d seen Pug, and it did her heart good to know that her best friend in the world had made it back from Faerie relatively unscathed. But what of the others?

  Brianna pulled the door to the bedroom firmly closed, shutting the kittens safely inside. Only when she began to cross the living room did she realize that it wasn’t empty. David was sleeping on the couch, snoring softly, oblivious to the commotion all around him.

  Nick was not asleep. He lay propped up on one elbow, dark eyes taking in everything.

  “Is he all right?” Brianna spoke softly as she gestured to David.

  “He’s fine. Just exhausted.”

  Brianna’s muscles sagged just a little in relief. “You?”

  “I’ll be okay.” He paused, “Are those shackles?”

  “Yes.” Brianna was surprised at how much bitterness filled that one word. Don’t think about it. You’re alive. They’re alive, and safe back from Faerie. It’s almost more than you dared hope for. Thank the deities, and forget the rest.

  Brianna didn’t elaborate. She really didn’t want to talk about it. Turning her back on her guests she shuffled awkwardly over to the kitchen area where Pug waited patiently, paced across the kitchen counter gathering glasses and dishes from the cabinets. Behind her she could hear Nick moving to join her.

  “You need to eat. There’s leftover bread, milk, and honey in the refrigerator.” Pug’s voice was flat, his tone grim.

  “Tell me everything,” Brianna ordered.

  “Sit down. You can eat while I talk. The news isn’t good—but it could be worse.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “As you can see, we made it back, but it wasn’t easy. Kenneth was injured, but between Mei and I, we managed to stabilize him enough that his own healing abilities will have him back on his feet in a day or two. He’s resting in my bedroom.”

  “I should go check on him.”

  “It can wait. Eat. There’s more you need to know.”

  “What?” Brianna asked as she gathered milk, bread, honey, and fruit from the refrigerator and began setting out the food and drink so that her guests could help themselves.

  “I killed your brother Eammon.”

  Oh, fuck.

  “He was part of the raiding party trying to kill us and take the humans. There was a battle. I didn’t realize it was him when I first struck, but I’d have done it anyway. They gave us no choice. We were battling in earnest.”

  Brianna was shocked silent. Sweet deities. Her brother … Eammon … they hadn’t been close, but she found her eyes filling with tears. Her throat tightened, making it hard to swallow, hard to even breathe. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she found herself being held. Nick had taken her in his arms, offering the warmth and comfort of a hug.

  “I’m sorry it was him I killed, but not sorry I killed him.” Pug sounded weary, but there was stubborn anger in his voice as well.

  Brianna shook her head. It was hard to speak, but she knew that she had to—Pug needed to know that she understood, that as bad as this was, it wouldn’t end their friendship. “Not your fault,” she managed to choke out the words. Even though she hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen what happened, she believed that, believed him. Pug simply would not have killed a member of the Sidhe royal family unless he was given no other choice.

  “Tell that to your father,” Pug said bitterly.

  Oh, sweet deities, her father. It hurt to even think about what he must be going through—particularly knowing that she couldn’t contact him, couldn’t comfort him. She was an exile now, an outcast.

  “Brianna,” Kenneth’s voice called to her from Pug’s bedroom. Just her na
me, but she could hear the pain in his voice.

  “Coming,” Brianna called. She stepped out of Nick’s arms and he let her. Grabbing a dishrag from a nearby hook she wiped the tears from her face. Setting the rag aside, she prepared a plate and glass for Kenneth. If he was injured, he’d need to eat.

  Plate in one hand, glass in the other, she shambled across the apartment, her steps made awkward by the short chain that bound her shackled feet.

  Moving more swiftly, Nick moved past to open the door for her.

  When Brianna decided to renovate the upper floors of the building to make permanent living quarters she set aside a bedroom for Pug. It was a nice room, twelve by twelve feet, with a bedroom suite made of oak that the gargoyle seldom used, and matching bookshelves that he did. His favorites, Heinlein and Jim Butcher were on the lower shelves, with samples from Charlaine Harris, Robert B. Parker, and Laurell K. Hamilton on the upper shelves. The bookends were geodes, sliced to reveal amethyst crystals. The walls had been painted slate gray, and blackout curtains covered the windows, so that there was no chance of a human accidentally catching sight of the gargoyle moving around. The hardwood floor was covered with a rug patterned in shades of gray and purple.

  Kenneth lay on the double bed that dominated the room. He looked awful. His handsome features were drawn with pain, more than half of his naked chest covered in bandages through which blood was beginning to seep. His color wasn’t good, either. And while it was obvious he should lie still, he was trying to sit up.

  “Stop that!” Brianna ordered. “You need to be resting.” She set the plate and glass onto the end table beside the bed within his easy reach and began helping him to sit up by propping pillows behind him.

  “How am I supposed to manage that with all this commotion?”

  He was right, of course. Brianna had been doing her level best to ignore the sounds coming from the portal in the outer hall, but it wasn’t easy. Surely they’ll run out of things to toss soon. I didn’t have that much.