by Eric Asher
“So how long you still been able to summon a soulsword?” I asked.
Vicky shrugged. “I don’t know. It may not have ever changed. I just remembered one day.”
“What I wonder,” Zola said, “is where is she pulling souls from? It’s possible there’s something else, some leftover vestige of the ties to the Burning Lands.”
“But how?” I asked.
“You yourself left the gateway in the Seal,” Zola said. “A gateway that perhaps only you can access, but a gateway nonetheless. So she may draw power from the Burning Lands in much the same way you drew Graybeard into our world.”
I glanced up in the rearview mirror and found Vicky tapping away on her phone.
My cell rang, and I pressed a button on my car stereo to answer it. Frank’s voice boomed to life in the old car.
“Damian, I’m here with Park. Safe to say Nudd found out about the article. You got about twenty minutes to get to a TV.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nudd called a press conference. They’re gathering on the eastern side of Falias, near the gates.”
Zola cursed. “That bastard has too many eyes.”
“They published it in a freaking newspaper,” Vicky said. “It’s not all that surprising.”
“Was that a kid?” Frank asked.
“Hi, Frank!” Vicky said, raising her voice. “It’s Vicky.”
Frank hesitated. “When did that happen?”
“Uh … about fifteen minutes ago,” I said.
“Try to keep that nut job in line, kid,” Frank said. “And I mean Damian, not Jasper.”
A small burst of static signaled the end of Frank’s call, and the stereo went dead. I caught a hint of Jasper’s fur in the rearview mirror, rippling as the dragon chittered.
“We should have enough time to get to the shop,” I said as I pushed on the accelerator a little harder.
“Don’t drive so slow on my account,” Zola said.
“This is great!” Vicky said a few minutes later as I swerved off 270 with the engine roaring and took the ramp onto Highway 70 at a nearly suicidal speed. The tires didn’t so much as bark, but Zola still rolled her eyes.
It was a straight shot to 5th Street. I slowed down enough to avoid terrifying the other drivers on the exit, but if we passed a cop, we weren’t going to be on time.
Zola tapped the clock on the dashboard. “Seven minutes. Slow it down.”
I’d been thinking the same thing. I merged onto Booneslick and, in an instant, modern strip malls and architecture vanished. The homes grew older, and gas streetlamps lined the brick sidewalks. It wasn’t until we got down to Main Street that the cobblestones started. And until that point, I kept our speed at the edge of what I thought a cop would let slide.
“It’s weird,” I said, turning the wheel and bouncing on the cobblestones. “I’m so used to seeing Graybeard’s ship docked down by the museum, that it looks like something’s missing now.”
“That must’ve freaked out the commoners,” Vicky said. “A bunch of skeletons taking orders from a dead parrot.”
“From a talking dead parrot,” Zola muttered. “That is one of your missteps Ah did not expect to stay with us for so long.”
I grinned. “That’s me. Fuckups that last. Maybe I should change the slogan for Death’s Door?”
Zola snorted.
Vicky leaned closer to the window as we passed Oh Fudge. “Where’s that ice cream shop? I thought it was around here.”
“It’s down the stairs,” I said, steering around a particularly deep pothole.
Vicky frowned. “I didn’t remember that. I feel like I should have remembered that.”
“Just wait until you get older,” Zola said. “You’ll be lucky if you remember to put on pants.”
“That why you always wear a cloak?” I asked.
Zola’s voice was deadly. “Boy, if you weren’t driving right now, Ah’d knock you out.”
I smiled at Zola as we rumbled past the last stretch of bars and shops before we reached Death’s Door.
The parking spaces were all taken on the curb in front, so I slid into a spot by Talayna’s, the pizza joint across the street.
I looked at the clock. “Come on. Two minutes.”
We piled out of the car, and I watched as Vicky gracefully slipped out the back of the ’32 Ford. I was pretty sure I’d never been that graceful. My legs were too long for that small of a seat.
I frowned at the front doors across the street. The closed sign was turned, and I hoped Aideen hadn’t had too much trouble while we’d been gone. I tried the handle, and it opened.
The bell jingled, and I held it open for Zola and Vicky as they passed through.
“We’re closed,” Aideen said.
“It’s just us,” I said.
“Get over here.” Aideen hopped up on the old mechanical register we’d recently replaced with a tablet. “It’s about to start.”
Aideen turned the tablet toward us.
“You finally got out of the 1990s?” Vicky asked.
“Ha ha,” I said. “The TV’s in the back.”
Aideen shook her head. “We can stream it here.” She swiped at the screen and tapped an icon with the flat of her hand. The tablet went dark for a moment before returning with a cacophony of sound, and a camera pointed at a podium that stood before the gates of Falias.
CHAPTER NINE
I’d seen those gates before, but not in person. I’d seen them in the great murals that decorated the halls of the court in Faerie. I’d seen them in mosaics in the ruins of Falias. They were a symbol of hope to some, and one of threat to others.
Ornate marble pylons stood to either side of the massive gates. I suspected each was at least as tall as the Washington Monument, only wider and carved with the great wars of Faerie. For a moment, I forgot the dread those gates pulled up from my gut. I sat in awe of the detail I could see even on such a small screen. The hand of the Mad King, a violent vein of red stone showing both a severed limb and a gateway through the Abyss. Nudd was always quick to remind his people that he’d been the one to slay the Mad King. His keen timing with propaganda had been on full display in the past, when he worked to cast his enemies in a bad light for the commoners. Beside the severed hand waited a dragon, a legion of Owl Knights, and many more that warred across the stone.
I leaned forward and frowned. “Is that a basilisk?”
Aideen nodded.
“I don’t remember that being there.”
“The gates are living stone,” she said. “They change as Falias changes. Look at the other pillar. The pillar of the opposition.”
But my eyes were still locked on the left pillar, and the crown of antlers that sat atop it. Slowly, I shifted my gaze, and my frown deepened. The top of the stone appeared to be more liquid than solid, with veins of blue struck through, so the stone looked more like a wave, and in that wave were dozens of faces.
“The water witches?” I asked.
“They are a threat.”
Just below them sat the ghostly vision of the Bone Sails. I couldn’t make out any individual skeletons, but I had no doubt the upturned skull and the sails represented Graybeard’s ship. I searched lower, studying each strata, stepping back in time, until I came closer to the bottom. Perhaps three-quarters of the way down, I found the terrible visage of a raging gravemaker. I had little doubt what the pillars and spikes were, set against a massive wave. This was me, battling the undines in Saint Charles, only here the commoners were displayed on spikes made from the flesh of gravemakers.
“That didn’t happen,” I said, pointing at that section of the pillar.
“No,” Aideen said. “The pillars may show history, they may show conflict, but they do not always show truth.”
I grimaced. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Yes,” Aideen said as a cloaked form stepped up onto the stage and strode toward the podium. “Perhaps the biggest threat to Nudd at this time is the world’s
military might, combined with the knowledge we’ve given them. But do you see the soldiers on those pillars? Do you see the tanks or the bullets that can strike down a Fae?”
“No,” I said.
The picture zoomed in on the podium as Gwynn Ap Nudd took his place.
* * *
“Welcome all,” Nudd said, flashing a disarming smile that I suspected was the same expression he’d wear as he cut an enemy’s throat. “I would like to say I am glad we have found harmony between our people. The hard work of your governments and my own has allowed us to find a peace in these trying times. But I know all is not well, and I am not here to offer you hollow words. While some things are much improved, there is much yet to be done.”
Zola stifled a shiver.
“I’d like to speak to you of the refugees from the calamity that happened in the town you once called Gettysburg. Your government failed them. Unable to provide basic necessities such as water and food before the people began to starve and turned to violence. But I did not fail them.”
“What is he talking about?” Vicky asked, sidling up to the counter behind Aideen.
“I have delivered the details of this project to your media. For while we have provided refuge to some of your people, I am sad to say that some of your people have murdered ours.”
Harsh whispers rose throughout the audience. The camera panned to show a mixture of Fae and commoners gathered before the gates.
“It is not all humans,” Nudd said, raising his hand to ask for silence. “It is only those I have previously warned you about. You must be vigilant, for our enemy has managed to strike down the great queen of the water witches and has seated in her place a murderous imposter.
“My people and I only seek peace with humanity, and we must not let the actions of a few warmongers destroy our hard-won peace.
“I fear one of my own people has sown the seeds of untruth and discord. Under the guise of being a family, three Fae infiltrated my city and returned with footage that has been twisted by your media. For that, they must face punishment for their crimes, as they would in Faerie. For that, they must be executed.”
“He’s a bloody dictator,” I muttered.
“A king,” Aideen said, a note of sadness in her voice. A low growl sounded in the back of the shop. I glanced toward the saloon-style doors as Bubbles pushed through.
“I don’t like him either, girl,” I said.
Bubbles cocked her head when she saw Vicky. Her ears perked up and her long braided tail wagged, springing to life where before it had been still with anger. Bubbles sprang past me and took up a post beside Vicky, nuzzling the girl’s hand while Jasper slid down to rest on the cu sith’s back.
Nudd went on, spewing more rhetoric about how alike the Fae and the humans were.
“This should be easier to see through than glass,” Zola said. “He’s spoon-feeding those people trash.”
As if on cue, polite applause rose from the audience on-screen. “Some of you fear me, as some of my people fear you. The tragedy that happened in these lands will not soon be forgotten by any of us. But we must move ever forward. We must be ever vigilant. And we must always work toward the greater good.”
Nudd gestured at the front of the stage, and the point of view of the camera switched. Below him stood three podiums, surrounded by cameras and what I suspected were members of the press.
I narrowed my eyes. “What the hell is he playing at?”
“As a token of our good intention, I wanted to allow your media to ask us questions. I admit, some we may not be able to answer. But there is no question that is off limits. Ask of me what you will, and I will answer what I can.”
“Well, that seems stupid,” Vicky said.
Aideen shrugged. “It’s most likely staged.”
A string of reporters lined up. Some I recognized from the major news networks. I had no idea who the others were. A few looked like they were teenagers, possibly there on an insane school project.
Nudd gestured to the first podium.
One of the youngest-looking of the bunch shuffled note cards before stepping forward. He leaned into the microphone. “What happens when you die? Several reports say you vanish. There are videos where it seems like only clothing is left behind.”
Nudd frowned slightly at the question. If he was faking surprise, he was damned good at it.
“We are not so different from you,” Nudd said. “Once our bodies expire, we return to the ley lines, the magic that connects this world to many others. Dust to dust, if you will.”
It looked like the kid was going ask another question, but a Fae who would’ve appeared human, if not for the fact his chest was as wide as two bodybuilders standing together, ushered him away.
A middle-aged woman walked up to the second podium. “Carla Casey, with channel 5.”
“Glenn Nudd, King of Faerie, ruler of all you see.”
Carla hesitated, clearly taken aback, but other than a slight stutter in her movements, she hid it well. Some of the things reporters faced in their day-to-day lives were truly horrible. Their ability to remain calm was impressive, at the least.
“You claim you stand for peace, but a great deal of evidence has surfaced showing you plan more for war than anything. How do you expect us, how do you expect humanity, to accept you at your word when there is clear evidence you do not abide by it?”
“That woman has no idea what she’s doing,” Aideen said. “Nudd’s balls, he’s going to kill her.”
Nudd just wrapped his fingers around the edge of his podium as he leaned forward.
“Now?” Vicky asked.
“No,” Aideen said. “But she’s not long for this world.”
“There is not much more important to a fairy than their word. You will have to take me at mine. Go in peace.”
“That’s not even an answer,” Carla started, before she was not-so-gently guided away from the podium.
The man standing at the last podium watched Carla’s departure with some interest. He ran a shaky hand over his close-cropped hair and steadied himself with a deep breath.
“William Macleod,” the man said, his voice steady, almost stern. “I’d like to follow-up on Carla’s question. It was your doing that brought Falias here. It was you who murdered the commoners and Fae alike in so doing. You consort with the dark-touched, scum of the lowest sort. We know what you did to Falias will one day befall Gorias, Finias, and Murias, all the great cities of the Fae. You aim to bring all of Faerie into the mortal realm. But this place is no longer our place.” MacLeod pounded his hand on his podium and stared defiantly at Nudd.
Nudd remained silent.
A burly Fae stepped forward to escort Macleod away from the microphone, but a flash of yellow light interrupted him before he reached Macleod.
Carla returned to the second microphone. “You feign benevolence. We have no evidence of it. There is no proof of this proffered benevolence.”
Silence thundered across the screen. Murmurs started in the crowd as Nudd stood silent.
“You wish proof?” Nudd closed his eyes, and the picture on the screen darkened. The camera shook briefly, and screams rose from the surrounding crowd before the color on the screen returned to normal before Nudd said, “There is your proof.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
“Macleod …” Aideen whispered. “You idiot.”
“You know him?” I asked, turning to face Aideen.
“I know of him. He’s an old warrior. From the time of the Mad King. But what does it mean?” she whispered to herself as she stared at the screen. “What does it all mean? Drake has returned. Macleod, champion of Gorias, has appeared after nearly a millennium in hiding.”
“What does your gut tell you?” Zola asked.
Aideen grimaced and looked up at Zola. “I fear for this world.”
“What have you done?” Macleod asked on the screen as the burly Fae finally gave up trying to break through the shield of yellow light.
“The vile weapons this world loves so have been banished. Forthright and forever more, your nuclear arms are lost. Build more, and you will answer to the Lords of Faerie. You want proof of the peace I offer? You have it. Once, humanity sent bombs into our city to destroy us, but now I have taken that power from your governments and your madmen. Do as you will.”
The camera focused on Macleod’s face, his astonishment plain to see. “You know not what you do.”
“The traitors—known to the commoners as Liam, Lochlan, and Enda—shall face execution. Their trial was set, and the courts have declared their guilt. Now all shall see the fate of those who threaten this peace. Go, son of Gorias, lest you soil the name of your ancestors.”
I steepled my hands and cursed. “I’ve seen enough. The military won’t stand idly by, and he damn well knows it.”
“Maybe.” Aideen turned her attention away from the screen. “Get to Park. We need to get in front of anything that’s going to be done locally. Nudd came too close to naming us outright. The fact he hasn’t is disconcerting.”
“Games within games,” Zola said, rapping her cane once on the hardwood floor.
Vicky adjusted her backpack. “I’m going with you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “They don’t even know who you are. And thanks to Nudd, things may have just gotten a hell of a lot more tense out there.”
“I’m going with you, or I’m flying my dragon over Saint Charles. Your choice.”
Zola laughed quietly.
I snapped my gaze to her. “Not helping over here, Zola.”
“Please,” Vicky said. “Who better than Jasper to infiltrate a military base?”
I shook my head violently. “We’re not infiltrating anything. We’re going to see our allies, our friends, and find out—” My phone buzzed. I frowned at the screen, then answered it. “Hey, Frank. Are you watching this—”
