Briarheart

by Mercedes Lackey

  Living up to their name, the Dark Fae had similarly fantastic costumes that were almost all in shades of midnight blue or black, although a few wore white outfits that looked like spiderwebs or shrouds. Most of them were raven-haired, though a few ran counter to that trend with bone- or ice-white tresses. They too had wings: crow wings, the wings of death’s-head moths, tattered bat wings, sable insect wings, carrion-fly wings, dragon wings, even a few bone wings. Some had impressive staffs, some carried wands, some were empty-handed. All of them were so pale that they looked bloodless in contrast to the complexions of the Light Fae, which ranged from pale pink to deepest brown with a few blue and green ones thrown in just for variety. They glared at the Light Fae with such rage that I almost expected the Light Fae to burst into flames. But, of course, they were powerless against the Rules. They were here mostly to show their contempt for us mere mortals, although there were a few who were here in the hopes of frightening enough of the guests to make a meal of their terror, which was permitted by the Rules.

  One of the clerks of the court came in by way of the stairs I had used and carried a sheaf of papers in his hand. “All of the Dark Fae are present, Majesty,” he said. He was one of the older clerks who had probably started service under Papa’s father. He looked very calm for someone who had probably stood at the side of the Hall, papers in hand, counting Dark Fae off his list at least three times to make sure he hadn’t missed anyone, because if we started before one of the Dark Fae arrived—and they were known to arrive late on purpose—well, there’s another Dark Fae offended. The Dark Fae were the ones who mattered, of course. If any of the Light Fae came late, they’d laugh and be charming about it, but we didn’t dare start anything until all the Dark Fae had arrived.

  Papa nodded, and the clerk left to signal that the christening was to begin.

  Just above us, the minstrels in the gallery at this end of the Hall struck up a lively, playful tune; this was to signal to anyone milling about in the antechamber that they needed to take their places. When that tune was over, the musicians began a stately march. That signaled the entrance of Archbishop Thomas, who would be performing the ceremony. This wasn’t actually a religious ceremony, since that would be an affront to the Dark Fae, so although the Archbishop was accompanied by six of his acolytes, they weren’t carrying holy symbols or swinging censers of incense. Instead of the aroma of frankincense, the air in the Great Hall was alive with the scent of the thousands of flowers that adorned every possible part of the room. The Archbishop looked very splendid in his scarlet robes with bands of gold embroidery and his matching ceremonial headgear. Wearing robes that matched his, the acolytes ranged in age from nine to twelve and were arranged according to height.

  After the Archbishop came the choir in snowy gowns, mixed in both ages and sexes, who arranged themselves against the wall at the head of the Great Hall. When the march was over and the choir all in place, it was the choir’s turn to perform, and they broke into an old song, the words of which were mostly “hail to the King, hail to the Queen, hail to the Princess.” It might have been traditional, but the lyrics weren’t exactly brilliant, and when I looked through the peephole again, I saw the Dark Fae smirking.

  As if you could do better, I thought resentfully. The Dark Fae are horrible at music and usually have to resort to kidnapping and bespelling human musicians to get anything decent performed in their courts and manors, and before they can do that, they have to trick the musicians into offending them. Then I squashed my thoughts. Best not to think anything about the Dark Fae.

  The end of the song was our cue to enter. First Papa, then Mama with Aurora, then Melalee all done up in a white coif, veils, and a dress that seemed to be made of about eight hundred yards of amber-colored fine linen. Melalee looked as if she was not entirely certain that Aurora was safe in Mama’s arms. Her hands kept twitching as if she longed to snatch Aurora back.

  Then Mama and Papa and I went to stand behind the traditional Christening Vessel, a very fancy waist-high pedestal terminating in a bowl, all made of carved alabaster, and we faced the Archbishop and the guests. Melalee stood at Mama’s left, and I stood at Papa’s right.

  The Archbishop made a speech about the duty of parents toward a child and the duty of a child toward her parents. Then he turned toward the gathering.

  “You are gathered here to witness that this infant is the rightborn child of King Karlson and Queen Alethia. That she is the heir apparent to the Kingdom of Tirendell. Do you acknowledge and hold by these things?”

  “We do,” said the crowd. Well, I couldn’t tell if the Dark Fae did, but it didn’t matter. This was purely human business, and they didn’t have any say in it.

  “Will the godmothers for this child please step forward?” the Archbishop asked.

  Now, none of us had any idea which of the Light Fae who’d been invited had decided to be Aurora’s godmothers. We knew there would be at least one but not more than three. I have no idea if there is some competition among the Light Fae over who will be a godmother, or if there’s a meeting that chooses them, or how that happens, and neither does anyone else as far as I know. Of course, any of them would have been fine, but some were more powerful, and thus better protectors, than others. And should anything happen to Papa and Mama, that protection would be vital, since it would be their duty to whisk Aurora off to somewhere safe and train her so she could grow up and rule the kingdom wisely and well.

  There was a reason for that. Those humans who were appointed Royal Protectors of infant kings and queens had a bit of a history of turning bad. Every kingdom that I knew of had had at least one who had let the power go to his or her head and decided that he or she would make a better ruler than the hereditary one. In the case of Tirendell, if it hadn’t been for one of Prince Lionel’s godmothers deciding to take matters into her own hands about three hundred years ago and kidnapping the boy just as his uncle’s assassin had been about to push him over the edge of the North Tower, Papa wouldn’t be here today.

  So, obviously, we wanted really effective Fae for godmothers.

  The first to step forward was a tall, dignified, green-haired Fae whose costume was a cross between a shimmering silvery gown and ornamental armor. That seemed promising. Her insect wings were protected by a shining green carapace that made it look as if she were carrying a shield made of emerald enamel on her back. “I am Bianca Stronghelm, and I shall stand godmother to this child,” she said in ringing tones that echoed around the Hall.

  “Welcome, and well come, Bianca Stronghelm,” Papa said with a bow. “We are indebted to you for your favor.”

  The Fae bowed back to him and came to stand at my right.

  The second Fae came forward. This was a slightly shorter Fae with snow-white hair who wore long jeweled robes. When I saw that her dragonfly wings were veined with the silver the Fae used to reinforce wings that were weakening from use and that her face showed the very faintest of lines, I realized with a start that her hair wasn’t white from artifice, it was white with age. This, then, would be one of the oldest and wisest of the Light Fae of Tirendell. I nearly squealed with glee but managed to restrain myself.

  “I am Domna Silvertree, and I shall stand godmother to this child,” she said quietly, and yet her voice echoed in the hall.

  Papa welcomed her as he had Bianca, and she came to stand at Bianca’s right.

  The third Fae looked as if she was barely older than I was. She had scarlet hair, scarlet bird wings to match, and a gown that looked as if it were made of flames. She also had the most infectious smile I had ever seen in my life, and I found myself smiling back at her. “I am Brianna Firehawk,” she said, and her smile increased just a little as nearly everyone but the Fae gasped. “And I will stand godmother to this child.”

  Everyone in Tirendell knows who Brianna Firehawk is. She is the Fae who caught Prince Lionel up off the top of the tower and carried him to safety three hundred years ago. Papa bowed and repeated his welcome with not one jot o
f difference in how he had welcomed and thanked the other two. Which, of course, was proper. But I knew he must be nearly jelly inside. Mama’s eyes were certainly like a pair of saucers.

  The Archbishop didn’t let any of this disturb him. Instead, he held out his arms for Aurora, and Mama placed her in his embrace. Despite Melalee’s tightened jaw, he held Aurora like a man who knows his way around babies. He bounced just a tiny bit on his toes, and Aurora’s delighted giggle rang out, making everyone but the Dark Fae smile.

  He dipped his fingers in the water in the vessel and dabbed Aurora in the middle of the forehead. “Beloved child, the name that has been chosen for you is Aurora Chloe Serafina. Take this name upon you and grow in the light and love of your family and your friends. I give to you the protection and blessing of the Church and all her servants.”

  Now came the time when the godmothers gave their gifts. These wouldn’t be tangible gifts like the ones piled up on the table at the back of the Hall. These would be… well… more important than that.

  The Archbishop handed Aurora to Bianca. Bianca also took her with the confidence of someone who has handled a lot of babies, cradled her in her left arm, and dipped the fingers of her right in the vessel. She dabbed Aurora in the same place, and for a moment, the baby glowed with a clear white light. “Aurora Chloe Serafina, I give thee the gift of love. You shall give and receive love in equal measure and be beloved and loving for all the days of your life.”

  Mama smiled, and there were tears of joy in her eyes. I knew exactly how she felt. This was a powerful gift. No ruler who loves her people will ever mistreat them; any ruler beloved by her people will be protected by them.

  Bianca handed Aurora to Domna. The ancient Fae whispered something to Aurora, who cooed with delight, before she dipped her fingers in the water. “Aurora Chloe Serafina, I give thee the gift of wisdom. You shall dispense wisdom, learn it in equal measure, and be heard and willing to hear for all the days of your life.” And once again, Aurora glowed with a soft radiance for a moment as the magic settled about her.

  Now it was Brianna’s turn, and I held my breath, wondering what the legendary Fae would bestow. Brianna’s fingertips left a drop of water on Aurora’s forehead. “Aurora Chloe Serafina, I give thee the gift of fortune’s favor. When all seems darkest, the Infinite Light shall always find thee, friends will appear unlooked for, and—”

  And at that moment, Brianna was interrupted by a terrible crash of thunder. Darkness enveloped the Hall in a shroud of inky blackness. Out in the crowd, people screamed as the Light Fae reacted by conjuring sources of illumination—floating orbs, flaming staffs, even lighting themselves up and flying a few feet above the crowd. Brianna instinctively gathered Aurora closer to her, Domna had produced a staff with a glowing gem on the top of it from out of nowhere, and Bianca held a glowing sword in her right hand and a shield of light in her left.

  My eyes instinctively went to the Dark Fae, but they seemed just as startled and confused as the humans. They had crowded up against the wall in a series of defensive postures.

  And then the thunder cracked again, there were more screams from the rear of the gathering as people tried to crowd away from the center aisle—and the eyes of all the Dark Fae literally glowed with pleasure and increased power.

  And a Dark Fae and her entourage came marching toward us through the parting crowd.

  Scampering along in front of her and behind her were ugly skeletal creatures dressed in stained rags. They were taller than humans, but there was something wrong about the way they moved, as if they had more joints than humans did. Their skin was stretched over toothless skulls, pale green eyes filled up their entire eye sockets, and they had no hair at all. The Dark Fae, stunningly beautiful, raven-haired, and wearing a headdress made of bejeweled sheep’s horns, was clad in a red gown the color of spilled blood. Black gems set in tarnished silver ornamented her gown and circled her waist.

  I felt as if all the blood in my veins had turned to ice. At that moment, I was surely a feast of fear for any of the Dark Fae who were near me.

  A slight movement to my left caught my attention as the Dark Fae stalked up the aisle. Papa was looking frantically at the Clerk of the Court, who was shaking his head. I looked to my right. Brianna, Bianca, and Domna stared at the apparition dumbfounded, but strangest of all, every single one of the Dark Fae either stood in shocked, stunned amazement or exchanged baffled glances with one another, momentarily allied in puzzlement. And that was when I realized that no one knew who she was. Not the Clerk of the Court. Not the Light Fae and not the Dark.

  Which meant she hadn’t been invited, and she had been offended. The Rules were clear. She could do what she wanted—and Brianna had already given her gift, so there would be no Fae gifts to counter whatever curse this uninvited guest cared to deliver. And from the looks of her, she intended it to be something awful. Something lingering and painful to extract the maximum amount of sorrow out of not just our family but the entire kingdom.

  I felt paralyzed, feet rooted in place, hands clasped hard on nothing, sick with fear and helplessness.

  “So,” she said, stopping with her entourage of monsters crowding close around her. She had a voice like velvet, and she was horrifyingly beautiful, a creature of icy perfection, with green eyes that glittered like a pair of baleful emeralds. “I did not receive my invitation to this festal occasion. I am hurt. Truly, I am crushed.” Her eyes swept across all of us, and it was clear she savored our fear. “What is it? A wedding? A sixteenth birthday?” She pretended to see Aurora in Brianna’s arms for the first time as Bianca impotently clutched the hilt of her sword. “Oh, no, I see it is a christening! Well, I have a gift for the dear, sweet little child—”

  Papa reached for the sword he wasn’t wearing; from the look on his face, he was considering flinging himself empty-handed at the Dark Fae, but he had to know all those minions would tear him to bits before he could get within five feet of her. Mama was so white, she was transparent, but she held on to Papa’s arm as if trying to hold him back.

  The Archbishop’s face looked like a thundercloud—but he was surrounded by his acolytes, who pressed close to him in terror and kept him from moving at all.

  As for the humans in the audience, they had huddled as far away from the Dark Fae as they could get, inadvertently trapping the knights and the Royal Guard in their midst. They wouldn’t be able to fight their way out without hurting someone.

  The expressions on the faces of the Light Fae were variations on pure, helpless horror. They weren’t the ones in peril. So they couldn’t act. We had opened the door to whatever this Dark Fae wanted to do because we hadn’t invited her. Brianna couldn’t even flee with Aurora—the curse magic was specific and would find Aurora no matter where she was.

  Meanwhile, the interloper drew herself up and raised her right hand, and the black crystal embedded in the top of her staff flooded the Hall with a sickly green light. “Aurora Chloe Serafina,” she cried out. “I give you the gift—”

  “No!” I screamed. “Leave her alone!” And I threw myself between Brianna and the Dark Fae, spreading my arms wide to absorb as much of the impact of the curse as I could. At least that was my plan, such as it was—which was stupid, of course, since it was a curse that had already been cast in Aurora’s name, and I couldn’t possibly intercept it.

  But when the terrible magic of the curse, visible as a bolt of that green light lancing out from the Dark Fae’s staff, struck me—it shattered. It fragmented into a million pieces that landed at my feet, sizzled on the floor, and vanished.

  The Dark Fae stared at me. Her expression turned from gloating to one of rage. I had barely a breath of respite—I saw in her eyes that she was going to try to blast me into powder with the power of her staff, as opposed to cursing me—and I flung my hands forward, palms facing her, just as she let loose. The burst struck my palms and splashed off.

  By now there were people screaming and trying to escape. The Dark and Light
Fae faced one another across the aisle, everyone daring the others to make a move. One move, one slip, would be all it would take to spark open warfare in the Hall, and the Dark Fae would target us humans first. Behind me, I sensed my family escaping. Now Brianna could run; Aurora was safe. Specific curses like that take a long time to prepare—days, in fact. And by the time the Dark Fae had another one ready, the Archbishop would have given Aurora a new name and she’d be in hiding with Brianna.

  And besides, the Dark Fae didn’t care about Aurora right now. She had another target.

  Me.

  She narrowed her eyes. I expected her to say something, but she didn’t. Where was our wizard, Gerrold? Trapped in the press behind the tightly packed Light and Dark Fae?

  She raised her staff. I raised my hands again, spreading them like a shield.

  The bolt of sickly green light struck my hands. And… I braced myself against the force of the interloper’s power as if I were trying to hold a door shut, the magic reflecting off my palms. I had no idea what I was doing or even how I was doing it, but I felt my feet sliding on the floor and I knew I couldn’t keep this up forever—or even for more than a few moments.

  I wasn’t afraid anymore and I wasn’t angry. All I could feel was determination. I just reacted with pure instinct. I gathered my own strength, pressing hard against that force. I took a deep breath, squinted against the green glare, and screamed “You! Leave! Her! ALONE!” at the top of my lungs, and I gave a huge mental and physical push back.

  With a boom that drove me backward so I sprawled on the floor, the dark magic reflected from my hands back to its caster. She screamed when it hit her with another boom.