by Greg Curtis
“Now you should know that there is a young woman on her way here who rides as hard as she can to stop the attack.” At least he suspected she was still coming. She might however, have given up after he'd told her she was too late. “She claims to be the Duke's niece – which makes her cousin to the King – and she says she’s a friend of the Fae. She may know something more of the attack and the attackers.”
“Her name?”
“Unfortunately, I did not catch it,” he admitted, while avoiding telling her that he hadn't caught it because he hadn't asked. Maybe that had been a mistake in hindsight. But in his own defence she had been an annoying woman waving a gun around. Conversation hadn't been at the front of his mind.
“For now, please tell me more about these men,” he asked her, trying to put that aside. “How many will we be fighting? What sorts of arms are they carrying? Are they wearing any protective clothing?” It was time to draw up a plan. And as they both knew, any magic or technology had its limits. Provided he knew what they had guarded themselves against he felt sure he could find something else to bring them down with. Or so he hoped.
Chapter Five
Dariya fumed when she saw the two wheeled machine on the grass as she approached the tree line. It seemed that that damned annoying wretch with the stick had been telling the truth when he'd said that he had been coming here after all. But why? He hadn't told her. Actually, he hadn't told her anything save that the attack on the Fae had already happened and that he was going to stop her uncle's men before they got back to the Duke. Just how could he have known she was too late? How had he knocked her out? More importantly, how could he stop her uncle’s men? Or was that just a man muck spouting?!
Looking around though, she saw no sign of him, and decided to put him from her thoughts. Her uncle's men were somewhere ahead – at least she assumed they were still in the forest – and she had to make sure they didn't leave it. How she was going to do that given there was only one of her and likely a rather large number of them she didn’t know. Her initial plan had been to warn the people of the Hallows of the impending attack and have them deal with the intruders. That was what the Order of the Golden Concord had asked her to do. But if the annoying man with the stick was right, it was too late for that. Which meant her next line of attack had to be gathering up some sort of armed force and laying out a trap for them at a pinch point. The only problem was working out where exactly along the border between the Hallows and Grenland they might emerge from and then finding a good place to ambush them.
That had to be back on the road, she thought. Where the great eastern road crossed the southern pass way. Because if the men were heading back to Alldrake Castle, then that was the path they would most likely take. Assuming of course that that was close to where they would emerge from the forest. Too far to the east or west and they might instead opt to cut across the farmlands and join up with the southern pass way somewhere further north. Her best hope of avoiding that was to scout the tree line to the east and west, searching for where they'd entered the forest. Because where they'd entered would hopefully also be where they exited. Perhaps that was what the annoying man with the stick was doing? Scouting the edge of the forest and looking for the place where they'd entered. But if he was he’d spent how long doing that? Three days? And yet given that he wasn't here she guessed that he was still at it. That was not good.
Her plans to do the same though were stopped in a hurry, at roughly the same time that her riding mare stopped walking.
“Red?” She bent over the neck of her horse a little and spoke into her ear. “What's going on?” Her horse might not understand what she said but she was an intelligent animal. She responded to her voice and the touch of her hand on her neck. Normally. But not this time it seemed. No matter how she spoke to her animal, patted her neck, or kneed her in the sides, the horse wouldn't budge.
“I wouldn't bother, Girl.” A woman suddenly appeared on the grass in front of Dariya. “Your horse has better things to do.” Something the horse agreed with a moment later as she bent her head to start grazing.
“Fae!” Dariya recognised the woman immediately for what she was. And though her business was with them she was nonetheless startled to see one face to face. She'd read the formal histories of the ancient wars, accords, pacts, betrayals and feuds between the two realms in detail. Studied all the engravings and paintings. She knew the history of the Fae. And she was sworn to defend the Golden Concord, the last and final pact between the two realms. Still, she’d never expected to meet one of the magical people.
The woman surprised her. And yet she was exactly as all the descriptions of her people and all the pictures had said. Tall, thin, graceful and with slightly golden skin that glowed in the sunlight. Green eyes too – piercing ones – that could turn the colour of midnight in a heartbeat when the owner grew angry. But for the moment they were safe and piercing green. And, she noticed, the woman had addressed her in Darish, the tongue of Grenland rather than her own tongue, Swalini.
“Human!” the Fae responded sardonically, before she relented, seeing Dariya’s sudden look of mortification. “I prefer Nyri, Protector of Illoria – the Glade of Grace as your people would call it.” The woman inclined her brow in query. “And you would be?”
That would explain her choice of wardrobe, Dariya realised. She still wore the basic wrap-around vest all the Fae favoured, a strange garment held together by a sash rather than buttons. But hers was heavy leather not the more normal cotton. And her sash had a sword attached to it, while a longbow was hanging from her back. She was dressed for battle.
“Dariya Morningstar. Cousin to King Richmond. And Friend of G'lorenvale – the Hallowed Grounds – within the meaning of the Golden Concord.”
“Ahh!” The Fae woman nodded as if something had clicked. “He said you claimed to be a friend, yet I did not know you. Now I know why.”
“He?” But almost immediately she asked she wished she hadn't. Because she knew exactly who the woman meant.
“That would be me.” The annoying man with the stick abruptly appeared out of thin air ten feet from the Fae. He looked smug even as he nodded to her. The man turned to address Nyri. “Protector, I'll leave you to speak with this woman if I may, while I continue to work on the preparations for the raiders. This is taking more time than I had hoped.”
“As you must, thane. It will speak to your contrition.”
Thane? Dariya understood the word. The title indicated the man was regarded as a favoured soul by the Fae. Or a welcome guest. Clearly the man had a gift for magic which finally explained how he could knock her out with a gesture and appear out of thin air. But then there was that reference to contrition. What had he done that the Fae thought he needed to show contrition for?
But she didn't have time to wonder about that as he didn’t stay around, walking off to the east through grass that was unusually long. If she hadn’t thought it silly, she would almost have thought the grass was reaching up toward him. Dariya directed her attention back to the woman standing in front of her.
“Protector,” she dismounted from her horse as she spoke and reached for her saddlebags, “I regret to say that my uncle has sent men into your realm in violation of the Concord and against the bounds of righteousness. My cousin King Richmond is as yet still unaware of his actions. Certainly no license to do this was granted by him. I also give my apology as a Rider for the Order on his behalf.”
“Unfortunately, this only marks the beginnings of my uncle's dark designs.” She pulled out the sheaf of rolled up papers from the saddlebags and untied the ribbon holding them all together.
“These papers were obtained from Alldrake Castle. Copied by agents loyal to the Friends of the Concord who gained access to his private study.” She walked over to the woman and handed them too her, noticing as she did so how tall the woman was when she stood beside her. The woman had to be a full head taller than her. The reports had all said that the Fae were tall; she just hadn't q
uite expected quite how tall they were.
“As you can see these papers detail his plans for a ritual blood sacrifice to the Reaver. We believe he will attempt to carry it out at the next full moon.” Actually, they believed he'd already tried it once at least. Whatever favour the ritual was supposed to grant apparently hadn’t happened. Now he was trying it again, but this time with Fae sacrifices instead of humans. He believed their magic would be the key to obtaining the favour of the Reaver. She shuddered a little at the thought. Who would want the favour of someone so terrible? And what would such a favour be?
The answer of course as to who was her uncle. It was said that he had been born under a dark sign and nurtured under a baleful light. He truly was evil. The only thing she had never understood about him was how he had been allowed to grow so crooked at all. Someone should have seen the pitch-black heart that beat within his chest long before he had first begun to act on it. Certainly, long before he had tried to murder his entire family and claim the throne. They should have ripped the damned thing out of his chest. But they hadn't, and the cost in lives had been terrible.
Perhaps they should have done the same to her mother? It would have meant she would never have been born but if it had stopped her in her tracks perhaps that would have been best?
Maybe too she dared to think some days, they should have killed Andris too. Andris, Barnly and Amberlee. All three of the children of Raegan and all their descendants with them. The whole damned family was rotten through. But she never dared to speak that thought out loud. The King would kill her if he knew her thoughts. But then King Richmond had killed so many, what would one more matter? Besides, she too was a Featherstone.
“When those in the Order saw these papers I was sent to warn you. Alas, it seems I was too slow and he had already struck as your thane informed me.”
Dariya glanced over at the wizard as she said it, and then stopped dead for a moment. He was already well over a hundred yards away from her and yet even from that distance it was instantly obvious to her that he was doing something to the grass. Growing it. Because where he was standing now it was already at head height and she could only see him when the grass moved. Why was he doing that? It took her a moment to return her thoughts to the matter at hand.
Thankfully the Protector didn't seem to notice her distraction. Instead she was busy reading the papers she'd given her, her brow furrowed in concentration. Dariya didn't interrupt her. Instead she let her read while she tried to work out what was going on. The wizard – though no one, probably not even him would have claimed that there were such people – was busy doing whatever he was doing to the grass. The Protector was doing nothing more than reading. But the very fact that she had left the forest was strange Dariya thought. According to everything she had read, the Fae would not leave their forest. They were bereft of magic when they did. Even if it was only a few score yards beyond the forest. But then this woman wasn't without her magic, Dariya realised. She still had the ability to appear and disappear just like the wizard. So maybe that was just legend. And the wizard's camp looked like it had been set up for at least a few days. What had he been doing all this time? Apart from growing grass.
Dariya thought about what he had said to her three days ago? That he would stop her uncle's men. His emphasis had been very clearly on the word “would”?!
Abruptly the answer leapt out at her. They were setting a trap! But was it simply out of revenge for what the men had done? Or were there prisoners involved? Had her uncle's men captured some of the Fae? That had been his plan after all. To capture the most powerful of the Fae. Bring them back, sacrifice them and make their magic his own.
“Protector,” she asked when the woman had finished reading, “have the men taken prisoners?” That was what mattered. Because her uncle couldn't sacrifice anyone unless he had them there to sacrifice in the first place.
“At least twenty five.” The woman told her, her green eyes starting to darken. “But they will not keep them!”
“No! They must not.” Dariya agreed without any reservation. “How can I help?” She hadn't come to fight, but it occurred to her that it was her place to stand with them. Both as one of the Royal Family and as a Friend of the Concord. And she had her trusty rifle with her.
“One rifle will not stop a small army,” the woman told her with a sad look on her face. “And they draw ever closer to the border.”
“You haven't seen me shoot!” Dariya responded. “And my Order will not let them bring your people back to the Duke. They ride as we speak, to stop them.”
She left unspoken the fact that they were unlikely to ride here, though, as time was against them. She had sent a message from Duckworth immediately after she had encountered the wizard, but it would take time for it to reach the outpost in Helmsford and still more time for them to ride out. The chances were that her fellow riders would set an ambush just in front of Alldrake Castle.
Still one way or another the raiders would not make it back to the Duke. This accursed ritual would not happen. That was her vow. Regardless of anything else – a wizard playing with the grass and a Fae Protector who seemed to think she was useless – that would not happen. Her uncle would fail.
Chapter Six
Dawn was breaking by the time the first of the enemy made it to the edge of the forest. Baen was glad of that. He hadn't wanted to fight in the dark. In truth he hadn't really wanted to fight at all, but that was not to be his choice. He had to save his friends.
At least he wasn't alone. Nyri and her wardens were just on the other side of the tree line, their wolves and arrows hounding the fleeing soldiers and their prisoners. Bringing the enemy down where they could. Of course, the raiders had come prepared for a fight with the magical people and were wearing so many wards that it was extremely difficult to strike them down. Difficult for the Fae given their weapons, that was. Arrows tended to veer off in mid-flight. Riding wolves constantly found themselves turned around even as they leapt for their quarry. Despite that they had still taken down around a hundred and fifty raiders over the four or five days that they'd been hunting them. Only fifty remained. And though they were getting ever closer to the tree line, the Fae had carefully herded them straight into Baen’s ambush. They might think they had escaped. They would soon learn of their folly.
After three very long days doing nothing more than preparing his mantraps, Baen could not be more ready. His staff was prepared with some of the strongest war spells he knew. And if that wasn't enough on its own, he had Dariya beside him with her rifle. He had doubts as to how much use she would be – she didn't strike him as the soldierly type whatever she claimed to be – but it was nice to know he wasn't alone.
“It would be good if the Fae could continue the battle across the tree line,” she commented for the hundredth time as her hands tightened on her weapon.
He nodded in agreement though he knew there was no chance of that. It was the gamble the raiders had relied on. Could they run far enough and fast enough with their prisoners to cross the tree line, before they were caught by the Fae? Because once they were across it they knew they were safe.
It wasn't simply that the Fae's magic faded as they left their home as the stories claimed – he wasn't even sure it did. Rather, they wouldn’t cross the tree line because of the terms of the Concord their ancestors had signed centuries ago. That document stated that neither the humans nor the Fae would enter the other’s realm armed or in any way prepared to fight. Disputes were to be written down and handed to those in authority on the other side, who would be obliged to act on their behalf.
The Fae were a people of law, perhaps above all else. They did not enter any agreements lightly. And when they had signed the Golden Concord over six centuries before, it had been a sacred commitment to them. They would not put that aside easily. To do so would be tantamount to a declaration of war. It was a pity that the Duke didn’t hold the Concord in similar high regard. Because of the Concord neither the humans nor th
e Fae could take up arms against the other on the other side of the border. Instead all disputes were to be handed to those in authority on the other side, and they would act. In Grenland that meant the Friends of the Golden Concord. Technically Dariya was the one in charge here. In reality, he would have to be the one who stopped them.
Abruptly the first of the raiders appeared among the trees and Baen gave up his musings to focus on the fight ahead. Though he imagined what was to happen next would not look much like any wizards battle such as the bards might sing about. But then he wasn't a wizard. He was merely gifted. An enchanter. He couldn't simply hurl fireballs about. Everything he did had to be controlled, measured and contained within something – like his staff. If he tried to toss a fireball from his fingers he'd likely burn his fingers off – if he was lucky. The magic had to be contained within something that could hold it. A medium.
Then the first of the raiders, dragging one of the prisoners with him, burst through from the trees at a sprint, then stopped and screamed in triumph as he did so. Even if he was only a few yards from the trees, he was safe – or so he thought.
