by Dani Harper
And realized that Fox was the tallest thing in every direction for as far as the eye could see. There was nothing left of the domed Hall. No walls remained, and the Great Oak itself had vanished, dais and all, leaving only a massive hole behind, as if the tree had been plucked up by the roots. There was nothing left standing on the castle roof, either, and its surrounding towers were gone, sheared off cleanly. Beyond, the entire forest that had surrounded the House of Oak was completely flattened, its trees stripped of branches and lying in concentric rings. Dear God, it looks like Tunguska after the meteor blast.
And that meant that the earthshaking thud had been some sort of sonic boom. Stunned, she looked back at Fox, searching for words. She had a million and one questions, but that wasn’t what he needed right now. What do you say to a kid who’s pretty much a superhero? “You did good, dude!” she managed, and held her hand out, knuckles first.
“Dude,” he said with great seriousness. He bumped her fist with his—and held it there for several seconds while she did her level best not to start bawling like crazy. “Can we go home now? I don’t like this place, and Jake says he’s hungry.”
It took her a moment to realize who he meant. I’m going to get confused between Jake the Dragon and Jake the Dachshund. But I can hardly wait to tell Tina. “Well, let Jake know that I’ll make him a grilled-cheese sandwich as soon as we get home. And you can both watch TV together.”
“In four triangles. With two pickles.”
“I know it, dude. And I won’t let the pickles touch the bread, either.”
Fox nodded, his eyes half-closed, and plunked down between her and Braith. A moment later, he snuggled into the dog’s furry side. She wished he would snuggle with her instead, but she couldn’t have everything. Her son was safe, and that was enough. Besides, she’d finally gotten a fist bump, hadn’t she? The sheer enormity of the small gesture made her tear up all over again. Before she lost all composure, Lissy leaned over to look at Fox’s arm, curious to see what the dragon image was doing—
It wasn’t there.
“Where did Jake go?” she asked.
“He was scared,” Fox mumbled through a yawn. “So I said he could hide under my shirt, and I’d protect him.”
“That was very kind—oh!” A large lump wriggled its way up his back beneath the fabric of his pajamas. Before she could react, a tiny glittering head—bright blue—emerged from the neckline and regarded her with enormous yellow eyes the size of nickels, fringed with delicate lashes. A slender, sinuous neck followed, until a dragon barely bigger than a coffee cup climbed out onto her son’s shoulder and curled there, where it promptly fell asleep. It was then that she realized Fox had fallen asleep as well.
Mouth open, Lissy was unable to decide what she should do or even think about this strange new development. Then gave herself a mental shake and pushed her jaw firmly closed with her finger. She didn’t need to do anything—except make a grilled-cheese sandwich or maybe two—and all things considered, was this new situation really all that strange?
My son is a sorcerer. Of course he has a dragon.
A strong arm slid around her shoulders, and she leaned back against a familiar hard body as a welcome voice caressed her mind. Fox has done extraordinary things this day.
You’ve done some amazing things yourself. Is Eirianwen gone? Is she dead? And if so, how would Fox react? How would she explain to him that he’d killed someone, even someone who wished them all harm?
I do not think that she perished, but wherever she is, I am certain she is too weak to harm us at present. Your son drew away all her magic, and that of her camarilla as well. They are powerless, thanks to Fox. And thanks also to Braith and his farsight.
What do you mean?
Braith predicted that a child would destroy Eirianwen’s power and raze the great oak to the ground. I thought—and Eirianwen did, too—that it was one of us, her sons. But it was Fox all along, and that is why my brother brought him here.
She sat up. “Braith brought him? He endangered my son to fulfill some crazy prophecy?”
“He says he saw the outcome. Fox would prevail.”
“I thought you couldn’t talk to him?”
“I can now.” There was an unmistakable smile in his voice. “Another side effect of Fox’s magic this day, I think.”
Later, she would have a few choice words with Braith herself, whether he could respond or not. For now, Lissy relaxed back against Trahern with a long sigh and was surprised that every muscle in her body hurt. She hadn’t realized just how tightly, and for how long, she had held herself alert and ready. You’re the one who helped him keep it together, Trahern. Fox may have power—and wasn’t that an understatement now?—but he’s a little boy and he was really scared.
I was also afraid. The arm around her tightened. I have known little fear in my life, but I feared for you, and for Fox.
You got through to him. He listened to you, and that’s what saved us. Then she remembered: but not all of us. “Cadell! I don’t even know where he is or if he’s okay. We have to go find him.”
We will look for him, I promise. I need but a few moments’ rest . . .
Maybe it was something in his voice or perhaps she was just finally paying enough attention to sense it. Lissy wriggled out from under his arm and turned to study him. The man beside her looked exhausted and drawn. His marble skin was grayish, and she suspected it wasn’t just dirt and smoke. The beautiful ledrith were pale, as if some inner light had faded. Blue blood was caked in several places, trickling in others.
Omigod. “How badly are you hurt?”
He didn’t answer, but he also didn’t resist when she helped ease him down to the floor, where his unbound hair lay tangled upon the cold stone. I wish I had a pillow and a blanket for you. Let’s put your head in my lap.
Not yet. It is good simply to rest. As Trahern closed his eyes on a sigh, it hit her hard that he shouldn’t have been bleeding at all, that he should have been able to heal himself. Had Fox absorbed his magic as well? Or had he used it all up in the struggle with Eirianwen?
“I would speak with my brother,” he said aloud.
The great dog raised his massive head at once but didn’t move from beneath his sleeping charge. Lissy immediately leaned over and gathered up Fox, dragon and all, hoping he wouldn’t wake up. She needn’t have worried—he was as limp as spaghetti in her arms, and she shifted him so his head rested on her shoulder. Thankfully, his dragon seemed glued in place, and both emitted small snoring sounds.
Freed of mattress duty, Braith rose to stand over Trahern, his enormous wrinkled muzzle close to his twin’s pallid face. Chuffing, he nosed Trahern into opening his eyes slightly.
“Brother.” He raised a hand long enough to stroke an ear. “You must find Saffir. I know not how, but she took your place as a grim to ensure your safety, to keep our mother from searching for you. She is somewhere in this castle—”
The enormous dog was gone. Just gone. A moment later, Lissy could hear wild baying from somewhere far below them, and there was no mistaking the note of desperation in the heartbreaking sound as Braith searched for the woman he loved. The black grim chained to the chair. No wonder the sad creature had looked so haunted. Balancing Fox, Lissy reached for Trahern’s hand. What’ll your brother do if he can’t find her? What if she’s dead? What if the blast killed her?
We will hope for better. I could not have kept this from him, whatever the outcome. He loves her and deserves to know her fate.
You’re right. She bent and skimmed her lips gently over his forehead. And I deserve to know how to help you. You still haven’t told me how badly you’re hurt. What can I do?
This. With an effort, he placed something small but heavy in the palm of her hand, and she brought it close to her face to examine it. A tiny silver horn, intricately made, coiled like a French horn with a large bell, yet it was both simpler and more elegant.
You must sound this, as I cannot.
You mean blow it? She eyed it dubiously. It’s awfully small.
Trust me. And do not stop until you know it has been heard. His voice faded.
“Trahern?” Her hand sought his pulse, his forehead. “Trahern, are you okay?” She hoped he was just sleeping, but how would she know? Quickly but gently, she laid Fox on the stone floor with a murmured apology, tucking one of his small hands beneath his cheek. She checked Trahern over to make sure he was breathing, that his heart beat normally—at least, normally for him. From nights spent in his arms, she knew it should be faster than a human heart. Now, however, it seemed slow, even sluggish. And she couldn’t rouse him. Dammit, I need to take a course on fae physiology! Trahern’s wounds weren’t bleeding profusely—well, nothing that required a tourniquet anyway. She even rolled him to his side for a moment so she could see if she’d missed a gaping wound on his back. Though there were many injuries there as well, they looked more like burns than cuts. Most likely they were magically induced, and she wasn’t sure how to treat them. Not that there’s a first-aid kit handy around here.
Whatever it did, the horn was her only hope. Lissy scooped up Fox and sat as close to Trahern as possible, hoping that he might gain a little of her warmth, and drew the tiny silver instrument from her pocket. It still looked like a Christmas ornament, but she pressed the miniature mouthpiece to her lips—
And the horn delivered a long, low tone that sent shivers up her spine.
Tentatively, she blew into it again, and the horn began to grow in her hand! Encouraged, Lissy put everything she had into coaxing the rich, deep sounds from the instrument, and as she did so, it continued to expand until its concentric coils rested in her lap alongside Fox. Whether it was the magic or a measure of just how exhausted he was, Fox didn’t wake up, and neither did the little dragon on his shoulder. With one arm, she hugged her child tightly to her. Her other arm vibrated as it supported the horn. Even so, she couldn’t stop her fingers from running lightly over the raised figures that decorated the silver spiral, and energy ran up her hand as she caressed the great gleaming bell. She’d never played a musical instrument in her life, but the ancient horn seemed to draw the notes from her instead of the other way around, discovering something wild within her and urging it to the surface, to expression. Her mind filled with images, sounds, scents . . . night winds strumming dark trees, clouds billowing over the moon like waves swamping a ship, pale dogs baying and quarry crashing through rain-silvered grasses, the tang of ozone and petrichor—
“You may stop now if you wish,” said a man’s voice, as deep and melodic as the notes of the horn.
Lissy blinked, and for a moment it seemed that all the things she’d heard and felt in the music had come together into a single being. Tall and lithe like Trahern—and there the resemblance ended. The stranger’s hair fell to his waist in hundreds of braids, each as black as the riding leathers he wore, as onyx as his cloak stirred by a breeze she couldn’t feel. Blacker still were his commanding eyes, and she sensed there were secrets in their depths beyond imagining. Eirianwen had been strong, but this dark fae’s power was tangible, like the charged air before a lightning strike.
And he was not alone. Behind him, the empty expanse of sheered rooftop now bore an enormous cavalcade of night-clothed men and women astride strange horses whose hooves didn’t touch the ground. A hundred riders or more, and all as still as death itself . . .
The horn had called the Wild Hunt.
Adrift in the green-black depths, Trahern’s thoughts were scattered and confused. The entire world had narrowed to this dark place, as if he had been dragged underwater to a kelpie’s lair, yet he could not remember how he’d gotten here. Where he had come from eluded him as well. Suddenly, a tiny pinprick of light appeared high above him, bright as a star at the new moon. Another joined it, and another. Five in all, a constellation, beckoning him, guiding him. He tried to swim upward, but his limbs were leaden and clumsy, and exhaustion dragged at him as if undines clutched his feet. As he faltered, the array of lights ceased to coax him. Instead, they summoned him, and he could not disobey. Slowly, painfully, he struggled toward their glimmering imperative. The harder he fought, the more intensely they shone, their glowing rays seeming to tug and pull at him. Upward. Slowly, haltingly, but surely upward—
As he broke through the surface of awareness, the constellation of lights resolved into strong fingertips pressed to five points on his forehead, his face. They drew away, and he found himself blinking up at Lord Lurien’s furrowed brow.
“You are in worse shape than when I found you the first time,” Lurien chided him. “I hope the cause was as noble.”
Thoughts, impressions, memories flooded his mind then, and he battled to form words. Still, his voice was little better than a croak. “Lissy. Fox.”
“I’m here. We’re okay. We’re both okay.” Lissy’s voice was close, very close, and her hand squeezed his. The simple act filled him with warmth. Women of the Tylwyth Teg prized their long slender hands with narrow fingers, often adorning their nails with thin slivers of gemstones or artful claws. Lissy’s hands were small and plain by Court standards, yet they were hardworking, strong, and, above all, kind. And when he was skin to skin with her, Lissy’s touch, both gentle and eager, was more powerful than all his sorcerer’s skills . . .
Someone cleared his throat, and Trahern opened his eyes in surprise. Had he drifted off? “Forgive me, my lord.”
“There is no need. You require much healing, and this is a poor place for it. Save for the child’s own gifts, there seems to be no magic, no energy, no power here at all to draw upon. Tell me why that is.”
“Treason,” he rasped. “There is treason. Eirianwen plans to take the throne. In two moons’ time, her forces attack Tir Hardd.” He gripped Lissy’s hand and raised it with an effort. “This woman . . . Pâr Enaid . . . this woman is my word.” Exhausted, he abandoned speech and continued in Lissy’s mind. Tell him all. He will believe you and will protect you both. Tell him about Cadell. And Saffir. And . . .
Darkness rose as a wave and pulled him down into a dark sea.
THIRTY-FIVE
Trahern gazed up at the once-great castle, the seat of power of the House of Oak for untold millennia. The towers had all fallen, and a third of the enormous building was split off from the rest by a yawning rift, leagues long and cut so deeply into the bedrock that the bottom could not be seen—the rock-splitting result of the lightning he’d called down during the battle with Eirianwen. Even as he watched, several stones crumbled from a wall and fell soundlessly into the chasm.
Beside him, Ranyon whistled. “I’m thinkin’ ya shoulda started with the light whip in the first place. Ya mighta cut the castle out from under Eirianwen and finished the fight a mite sooner.”
“I will try to remember that for next time,” said Trahern. But there wouldn’t be a next time. Eirianwen would never regain her magic or position, and certainly not the life she was accustomed to. Injured and powerless, she’d been quickly found and cornered by Lord Lurien’s relentless white hounds. For her many crimes, the former matriarch had been condemned to follow after the Hunt forever as a true grim, among the dead and the damned, the betrayers and the murderers. The members of the camarilla—even the ones who’d been killed—were likewise sentenced.
For Ranyon, however, much more was due. With so many of his family and his people to avenge, the little ellyll had been utterly devastated that he’d been unable to participate in the battle. Trahern hoped that today’s task might provide a measure of what Lissy would call closure. “I find that my magic has not yet fully returned to me. I asked you to come here in hopes that you might take the lead,” he said, and motioned to the castle.
Ranyon reached beneath his ubiquitous baseball shirt and produced numerous strange charms. Pinecones, crystals, silver spoons, even a coffee cup, each wrapped with copper wire in a complex pattern of knots and spirals. From under his strange blue hat, he produced an exceptionally large charm made
from a scallop shell, then proceeded to arrange them all into five groups of five. Trahern recognized the number of power, a catalyst for change.
There will be mighty change here this day.
Before the ellyll enacted his spells, he drew a deep breath that shuddered his little frame. “I thought chance alone saved me, dontcha know. Just cruel and foolish chance. I was at an Undine wedding on the seashore near the dragon territories, far from the slaughter. I knew nothing of it save feeling more and more ill till I fainted dead away. My friends cared for me for days. And when I woke up, they told me my family was gone. My clan was gone. My people were no more. I wished I had died myself then.” Sniffling, he wiped his face on his sleeve. “But maybe there was method. Maybe I’m still here so I can do this much fer them.” Ranyon looked up at Trahern. “Yer sure o’ this? ’Tis a foul enough symbol to the Ellyllon and more, but it’s yer own family’s home.”
“It was never a home to anyone,” said Trahern. “And there was no family in anything but name. I did not know that when I lived here, but seeing Lissy and Fox together has taught me a great deal.” And by all the stars of the Seven Sisters, I miss them both. It was a constant physical ache far worse than any of his injuries. Though he’d sent Lissy many notes and small gifts for her son, he hadn’t yet left the Nine Realms. There were things to be done.
As the heir to the House of Oak, all authority and all holdings were now in Trahern’s hands. He’d dictated seemingly endless missives even from his bed during his long convalescence. And when he was stronger, he set about enacting many of those directives in person, parceling out the wealth and land of the vast domain until the House of Oak no longer existed as a power in the Nine Realms. Few were left with familial ties to it, and Trahern judged that they possessed sufficient properties and wealth of their own. The rest of the territory’s inhabitants had been more slave than subject, however, with no love for their bloodthirsty matriarch. To each of them he gave the land they had once managed for her, with ample resources to improve upon it as they saw fit. Only one final task, this task, remained before he crossed the Great Way to Tir Hardd and the human world that lay above it. And then I will not return to this land again. “One night we saw shooting stars together, and Lissy told me to make wishes. I wished for my mother’s countless cruel acts to be undone.”
