by Sean Cullen
“But we Faeries are not so fertile. The generations pass but slowly to us. We live long and our memories do not fade. Now we keep the Truce because our numbers are small. Our only hope for survival is to live quietly between the seams of the Human world. And so we endure.”
The tall man smiled at Brendan and asked, “Does that answer your question? I’ve had to skim through the details, and we Faeries love details, but that is our story … and your story, too.”
Brendan blinked. He looked down at the table and found a platter of cheese, bread, and slices of ham. A bowl of soup steamed at his elbow. Beside the bowl was a clay tankard brimming with foaming liquid. He had been so engrossed in Ariel’s story that he hadn’t noticed Saskia returning with the food. He started when he looked up to find her smiling her fierce smile at him. “Thanks.” She nodded and blurred away again.
He was suddenly ravenous. Needing some time to absorb what Ariel had told him and to formulate his next question, he picked up a slice of ham and draped it over the dark bread. After adding a lump of cheese, he took a bite. The food was simple but perfectly satisfying. He chewed thoughtfully, savouring the flavour and swallowing at last.
“So, Humans don’t really know there are Faeries?”
“For the most part, no,” Ariel said. “Only those we allow to see us for what we are know of our existence, and those are rare indeed. They must be trusted with our great secret, and so we only reveal ourselves sparingly. Some suspect our existence but cannot confirm it because we live among them and hide ourselves with glamours to keep our existence secret.”
“Glamours?” That word again.
“Manipulations of the Earth’s energy … you might call it magic.”
Brendan recalled all the strange experiences he’d had over the last couple of days. He thought about his ability to use the birds for his defence and what Kim had said about him Compelling Orcadia. What other explanation was there besides magic? “What are the Arts?”
“Ah,” Ariel laughed and shook his head. “Another question that is impossible to answer without an age of time. Some say I am the wisest of my kind, but even so, I would not be able to give you an answer you might understand.”
“Why not?”
Og piped up, “Explain the wind! Explain the sea! Explain the stars in the sky. The Humans would try and break them down and tell you ‘The sea is a body of water’ or ‘The stars are balls of gas’ or some such. True enough but it doesn’t explain the power of the sea, the way the stars affect our souls. Faeries don’t label these things. We try to experience them on a deeper level and manipulate the energy they represent.”
Ariel nodded in agreement, adding, “A crude explanation but accurate.”
“I’m nothing if not crude.” Og grinned and raised his glass of amber whisky. “And I am sometimes accurate.” He knocked back the whisky in one gulp and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Og is too humble,” Ariel said softly. “He is one of the greatest Artificers our people have ever produced. That requires steady hands and a keen mind.”
Brendan looked sidelong at his professed uncle. “An Artificer? Kim mentioned them. What is an Artificer?”
“One of the disciplines of the Art. Artificers craft objects. In the past, Faeries like Og would forge magical weapons, rings of power, armour of invulnerability. Nowadays, our needs are different.”
“We Faeries don’t like the metal, see. It can hurt us,” Og said, waving for another whisky. “In strong enough concentrations it can kill us. In alloys, it can make us sick or give us allergic reactions based on the amount of iron in it. So I and people with my Talent, we make items for our folk to use out of proper materials. Lately, the Fair Folk have been fascinated by Human technology like … those televisions. Artificers find a way to make them work without being harmful to us.”
“So you made Kim’s cellphone?”
“Och, not me. I prefer more exciting items.” Og’s eyes lit up. “Engines! That’s what I love!”
Brendan said, “Like Kim’s scooter?”
“Aye! That’s one of mine.” Og beamed. “She’s my pride and joy.”
Brendan gulped. He would rather not be around when Kim revealed what had happened to the scooter and Brendan’s part in it.
He changed the subject. “But how could I be a Faerie? I mean, how could I have been a Faerie all this time and not known it?”
Ariel nodded. “An excellent question. Until recently, you had a scar upon your flesh. Am I right? A curiously shaped scar.”
“Yeah,” Brendan admitted. “But it’s gone now.”
“That scar was a Ward, a Glamour of Protection. There are many kinds of Wards like the one that hides this place from the eyes of the People of Metal.” He swept a hand about him, taking in the whole pub. “The Ward allows the Swan to exist right under their noses without them suspecting a thing. Once upon a time, the Ward covered all the Islands, but over time, we’ve pulled it back to this little corner. It’s all we really need.73 Woven by many powerful people of our kind, it is maintained by the desires of all who wish to remain hidden. All of us who choose to live in the Human world must bear Wards that hide our true nature and make us appear outwardly as Humans. The Ward that hid your nature from those around you and yourself was the work of one very powerful Faerie of the Skyclan. He was your father, Briach Morn.”
The name sent a shiver through Brendan. My father? My real father? Up until last night, he had believed his father was the man he’d grown up with, eaten dinner with, played Monopoly with on rainy afternoons. Now everything had changed. Had it only been a day since his parents had revealed the truth to him in the kitchen?
“I can take it from here.” The voice was cool and feminine, and Brendan recognized it immediately from his dream the night before.
“You!” Brendan gasped.
Deirdre D’Anaan stepped out of the shadows, pulling a silken shawl from her face. She wore a shimmering cloak that was beaded with rain. She shook out her hair and smiled at Brendan as she stepped toward the table. The crowd parted for her.
“Oi, good to see you, my dear sister,” Og bellowed, sliding over and scrunching Brendan into the bench. “You look ravishing as ever.” Og patted the bench beside him in invitation.
Deirdre ignored Og. She stood by the table, looking down on Brendan. Her eyes were as powerful as he remembered from the concert the night before, burning with cold grey fire as she held his gaze. Her tiny winged servant, Fith, sat on her shoulder. The Faerie licked raindrops from her hair with its small black tongue.
“I see you made it unscathed despite Orcadia’s best efforts,” Deirdre said with a welcoming smile. “Well done.”
“No thanks to you,” Brendan said, trying his best to sound angry, but in the shadow of her beauty, he was finding it difficult. “These people tell me you stripped my only protection away. You could have gotten me killed.”
Deirdre opened her mouth to retort but she was cut off by Kim’s voice.
“Well, look who’s here!” Kim snarled, appearing suddenly at the top of the wooden stairs. She descended, her field hockey stick over her shoulder and a steaming mug in her hand. “Deirdre D’Anaan, who can’t keep her nose in her own business.”
Brendan was so relieved to see Kim, he wanted to jump up and hug her but Og’s beery bulk prevented it. Instead he beamed a smile at her. She sneered playfully in return and sat down beside Ariel. She still didn’t look completely well but at least she was sneering again.
Deirdre scowled. “It is my business. He’s my nephew.”
Kim laughed harshly. “What a kind auntie you are, too. It’s a wonderful way to show your affection, removing the only protection he has and leaving him at the mercy of that psycho out there.” Kim jerked a thumb at the window where rain pelted the glass and lightning flashed. “What a sweet coming-of-age present. What will you give him for his birthday? A rabid wolverine? One of the Metal Folk’s hand grenades?”
“What? I’m your nephew
?” There was too much information for Brendan’s reeling mind to process. “You’re my aunt?”
“And she’s me sister and Bob’s-your-uncle! Hee-hee-hee! I need a drink!” Og pushed himself to his feet. “Anyone need anything?” Everyone ignored him so he staggered off to the bar.
“I can’t believe it,” Brendan said, his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.
Deirdre ignored Brendan and sneered at Kim. “Better he knows who he is so he can make choices. We need to guide him!”
“Guide him?” Kim sneered back. “Or control him?”
Ariel raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Peace. What is done is done. We must work together now. Put aside what cannot be changed and let us discuss how to move forward.”
“He must be initiated immediately,” Deirdre said. “It’s the only way he will be safe.”
“Agreed,” Kim grunted. “As soon as possible.”
Brendan slammed his hand on the table. “Hey! Quit talking about me like I’m not here! I want to know what’s going on! What initiation? Start talking or I’m going to leave and go back to my home, and you people can blow it out your … ear!” He would have said something harsher but his mum hated when he cursed.
Ariel, Kim, and Deirdre stared at him. Finally, Ariel indicated that Deirdre should sit. “You are the Weaver, Deirdre. You should tell the tale.”
Deirdre nodded and took a seat. Saskia returned at that moment with a cup of steaming dark liquid, which Deirdre accepted. After taking a sip, she swallowed and lowered her head for a moment. Her hair hung like a curtain around her face. When she raised her grey eyes again, they were full of tears.
“I had a sister. Bir-Gidha was her name and she was fair. To look upon her was to see a spring day walking. She was a joy to behold and gentle of heart. She thought the best of all she met and brought such joy to my heart.” Brendan found himself being lulled by her words. Deirdre’s voice took on the cadence that he had heard at the concert. He had to try hard to hang on to his anger.
“She had many suitors, for she was beautiful and fair. She could have chosen anyone to be her mate, but as fate would have it, she fell in love with an Ancient One whose heart was dark and troubled. She was a Healer, and she was gifted in those arts so perhaps she thought she might heal the darkness in his heart. His name was Briach Morn.
“He was a Prince of the Elder Times, a Lord of the Skyclan who believed that this world had been stolen from us by the People of Metal. He wanted to shatter the Truce and take back this Earth for the Faerie Folk. He was powerful in his Art, and many followed him. Together with his sister, Orcadia, he led the dark faction that would see the war renewed between the Humans and the Fair Folk.”
At the mention of Orcadia, Brendan shivered. “Hold it,” he interrupted, drawing a dark glare from Deirdre. He tried to ignore her. “You lost me. An Ancient One? Elder Times? Skyclan?”
Ariel spoke. “The Elder Times are what we call the age before the Truce, when we held the upper hand in the world. Briach Morn was old indeed and very powerful. In those days, he was worshipped by the People of Metal as a god of War and Destruction. We were often seen as such by ignorant Humans who didn’t know us. They set us up as gods.” Ariel smiled sadly. “You might even know one of my names from those times. I was called Apollo.”
Brendan had learned about the gods of Greek mythology from his father, who had read him stories of their deeds. Was he actually looking at Apollo, god of the sun? He could hardly believe it. “So this Orcadia is his sister?”
“Yes. And your aunt.”
Deirdre continued her tale. “Their love was fated. They were wed despite the wishes of both their clans. All the Oracles foretold doom for them and much unhappiness, but such was the depth and the power of their love that they chose to ignore the future. My sister seemed to soothe his raging spirit. It was her dream that one day Human and Faerie might live together in harmony, as in the time before the rift between our peoples. Briach Morn listened to her, and we had hope that he might abandon his desire to bring war upon the Human world. Then word came that she was with child.
“We rejoiced at the news,” Deirdre said, her voice warming with remembered joy. “You see, Breandan, among our kind, children are a rare blessing. We looked upon the news as a sign that the Oracles might be wrong. A child was certainly a sign of great happiness to come. But we were wrong.
“My sister took to her birthing bed and her labour was long. In the end, her heart failed her. She lived only long enough to see your tiny face and she named you. Then she crossed over. A great light went out of the world.”
Brendan felt his eyes prickle with tears. There was a lump in his throat. He longed to see her, his mother. He would never know her. He sensed the sadness of all in the room, watching and listening in the smoky darkness. The crackle of the fire was the only sound. At last, he said, “What about my father? Where is he?”
“Ah,” Deirdre breathed. “There is the strand that completes the tapestry. Briach Morn was overwhelmed with grief. His heart was utterly broken. Despite efforts to stop him, he took you from your mother’s deathbed, and he worked a powerful Ward upon you. Secretly, he left you among the Humans and then he disappeared. Some say he destroyed himself in his grief. Some say he went off in search of deep magic into the Other Lands that border on our world, that would allow him to destroy the Humans once and for all.”
“So he might still be alive?” Brendan asked.
“Those who travel in the Other Lands forget themselves. They rarely return. If he is alive in those dire places, he will not be coming back.”
Brendan couldn’t help feeling sad. Both of his birth parents were gone. He’d never known them but he still felt the loss somehow.
“Whatever the case may be,” Deirdre said, oblivious to his mood, “he left you hidden in the care of Humans, disguised as one of them. No one understands why he did what he did. He loathed Humans, so why would he hide you among them? But he was grieving and who knows the state of his mind.
“No one knew where you were or even what you might look like. We searched for long years. Briach’s Ward was extremely well wrought but, at last, we found you. Ki-Mata was sent to observe and subtly watch over you …”
“And you had to stick your big nose in and blow it,” Kim said suddenly. “Thanks for that!”
Deirdre’s eyes flashed with anger. “I was doing what I thought was right.”
“What about what we all agreed was right, you arrogant cow?”
Deirdre’s hands gripped the table in fury. Kim’s fingers curled around the handle of her stick. They glared at each other across the flat surface, and the crowd held its collective breath. Suddenly Og staggered over, jarring the tabletop and upsetting all the drinks. Instantly, the dark atmosphere was expelled as Kim and Deirdre tried to avoid getting ale and mulled wine on their laps.
“Sorry,” Og slurred, a wounded and contrite expression on his ruddy face. “There is no greater tragedy than a spilled drink. It breaks the heart.” He raised his own tankard, brimming with foamy beer, and said cheerily, “Still, my pint was saved. Be grateful for small mercies.” Unseen by the women, Og winked at Brendan and staggered away, leaving Brendan with the impression that the spillage had not been entirely an accident. He decided to take the opportunity to speak.
“Listen,” he said. “This is all really interesting and everything, but I really just want to go back to my parents. I don’t want anything to do with any trouble. I just want to be a normal kid, go to school, and hang out with my friends, you know? So thanks for the story but I’m going home. Put the Ward back on me and make it stick this time.”
His speech was greeted by uncomfortable silence. He looked at Kim, but she was inordinately concerned with mopping up beer. Deirdre was silent too. She looked at him sadly.
Ariel broke the silence. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible, Breandan.”
“Why not?”
“Orcadia and others like her know wher
e you are now. They would never leave you in peace. They see you as the rebirth of their hero, Briach Morn. They will either turn you to their purposes or kill you.”
“That’s crazy!” Brendan cried. “Kill me? Turn me? I didn’t even know this guy Morn existed until today!”
“It doesn’t matter to them,” Kim interjected. “Your family would be in danger from them, too. Your Human family, I mean. A Ward of the type Morn wrought cannot be renewed. We have not the Art. Your Human parents will see that you have changed. You are Faerie now, and it will become more and more obvious that you are not like them. Certainly, you could disguise yourself using glamours but sooner or later, they would learn of your true nature.”
Ariel nodded agreement. “The best choice you have is to join your true people. Only we can protect you and keep you safe.”
Brendan sat in stunned silence. How was this possible? Only two days ago, everything was fine. He was a nerd in Nerd School with an annoying sister and his kooky parents and everything was completely normal. He hadn’t realized how happy he’d been. He felt an overwhelming sadness numb his soul. He wanted to cry, partly from sadness and partly from frustration. He hadn’t asked for any of this. What right did they have to completely destroy his life?
“Never mind them,” Deirdre said lightly. “I promise you, you won’t miss them once you get to know your true family. You will come and live with me. I’ll teach you my Art. We’ll have such a good time together.”
Her tone was so glib and heartless that it made Brendan furious. He felt a rage swell in his chest. He glared at Deirdre and pointed a finger, quivering with emotion, saying in a harsh voice he hardly recognized, “You. Shut. Up.”
