This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2017
Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
Cover design: Beetiful Book Covers
Contents
Chapter 1: Sive
Chapter 2: Mevia
Chapter 3: Ae’fir
Chapter 4: Crowe
Chapter 5: Inis Cealtra
Chapter 6: Seraphim Trail
Chapter 7: Deep Past
Chapter 8: Golden Dawn
Chapter 9: The Wish
Chapter 10: Madness Descends
Chapter 11: Arrowstorm
Chapter 12: Silver Eyes
Chapter 13: Keeper of the Flame
Chapter 14: Bridge of Insanity
Chapter 15: Monkwood
Chapter 16: Doppelganger
Chapter 17: Phantom Black
Chapter 18: Hidden Poison
Chapter 19: Shadow Dancing
Chapter 20: Seventh Star
Chapter 21: Ancient Ways
Chapter 22: Cradle of the Grave
Chapter 23: Burning
Chapter 24: Falls Myst
Chapter 25: King of Insanity
Chapter 26: Those That Remain
Chapter 27: Capture
Chapter 28: Coast
Chapter 29: False Trail
Chapter 30: Black Fox
Chapter 31: The Pact
Chapter 32: Black Ribbon
Chapter 33: Devil’s Tide
Chapter 34: Truth’s Shadow
About the Author
Chapter 1: Sive
Inis Cealtra, they said. Untold treasure, they said.
Except it wasn’t here. Lying bastards.
The island that didn’t exist, the island that would appear only to those lost in the haar. Well, she was lost. The haar was thick today and cold as the grave. It would burn off in an hour or two, and then she’d find her way home, just like yesterday and the day before. She steered the skiff through the dead calm toward the sounds of the seabirds. Seabirds meant cliffs, and cliffs meant land. She’d been out for three hours already―her hands were numb, her muscles stiff. She’d give it a little longer.
Sive’s mind wandered to old conversations, faces she knew―she cursed as the familiar pain returned.
“You’ve cut yourself again. Why do you do that? Stupid girl. You cut yourself, then pick at the scabs. What’s wrong with you?”
Her mother had never understood; none of them had. She was different, a throwback they said, with her strange ears. She didn’t fit in. As long as she could remember, she’d felt trapped. She wasn’t meant to be in this body, with these people. The gods had made a mistake sending her to this family, this clan.
She had always been lost.
“I don’t know why Falinor sent you to us. We wanted a boy! And look what he gave us―you! Bastard gods . . . I bet Loki had a hand in it. Go on, get out of my sight. Do something useful: get food for the table.” Her father had a way with his tongue; it cut the deepest, even more than the physical blows, but after a while she felt nothing. Her life became numb, like a dream.
To feel again . . .
That’s when the cutting started. The pain reassured her―it was comforting, a friend. But lately the cutting hadn’t been enough, and she was running out of time. It would be easy to give up.
Or she could fight.
“Inis Cealtra, aye, it’s out there somewhere,” Orphir whispered to her. “Men have been trying to reach that island for years, more than years. But she’s a tease, locked in her curse, banished from the mainland, banished from the sea, just a dream. But a golden dream. The Aes Sidhe left their gold there in their ships. Danu protected the island with a curse, and it vanished from sight.”
Orphir: a gift from the gods, they’d said, blind in this world but sighted in the spirit world, a seer.
“Vanished from sight only to be glimpsed by those lost in the haar,” Sive said. “Why did they leave? The Aes Sidhe, I mean?” She looked at her blind friend’s face, searching for answers.
Orphir rolled her eyes, rocking back and forward. It was warm in the hide―the fire had burned low and smoke filled the space. This was their safe place. It was rarely occupied in the winter months and only used to trap migrating geese in the spring. Sive remained silent; she knew not to press her friend. Sive looked at the young woman’s birdlike frame. Orphir was respected by the clan and lived in the jarl’s hall. She was given choice cuts of meat in her broth, but still her body refused to grow. People said it was due to her gift. She was nineteen summers but looked younger.
“No one knows why the Aes Sidhe left the island and their gold. But they left in a hurry. Some say they took their ships and sailed away, but who knows? Maybe they offended their god, or maybe something chased them off . . . what does it matter? They are gone, the island is gone, the gold is gone. Unless . . . ”
Orphir turned her head, her milky eyes seeming to look directly at Sive. A knowing smile broke across her face. “Ah, I see. You mean to go there, to find the gold.”
Sive knew Orphir was blind, but at that moment she would swear her friend could read her thoughts. She shuddered. “Well, maybe . . . maybe not. It’s just a story, isn’t it?”
Orphir turned away. “Just remember to take steel with you when you go. Steel to free the island, that’s what the legend says. That’s if you manage to set foot on it if she’ll let you. If she shows herself to you, you mustn’t take your eyes off her, not even to blink . . . that’s the secret.” Orphir’s voice had grown husky. She stopped and frowned. “Now where did that come from?”
“I’ve always got steel on me.” Sive patted the dirk at her waist. “Drode’s sons give me no choice . . . bastards. I swear I’ll skewer them one of these days. They are evil, they don’t know when to stop their tormenting . . .”
Orphir was off in one of her reveries. Sive put more wood on the fire and took a bite of the cured meat she had stolen from the jarl’s kitchen. It was one of the benefits of keeping Orphir around.
“Why do you take risks, Sive?” Orphir blurted out. Her voice had deepened. Her head fell forward, her shoulders slumping.
Sive stopped chewing. She looked at her friend. Something was wrong.
Orphir’s body was trembling despite the fire. Sive’s hand went to her arm, to the eagle tattoo, her protection against evil spirits.
“Answer me.” Orphir’s head snapped up, her eyes rolling. Her face contorted in a rictus of pain. “Why do you take risks?”
Sive felt the cold hand of fear in her belly. “Leave her alone! Get out of her, whoever you are . . .” Sive’s voice sounded small.
Orphir’s mouth hung open. Saliva dribbled down her chin. She didn’t move.
Sive reached for her dirk, then thought better of it. What use would it be against a spirit? Her mind raced. “Why do I take risks?”
“Why not?” Sive blurted out. “Why be safe when there’s nothing to lose? When I am so . . . different . . .” Her voice cracked.
Orphir’s face looked blankly at Sive, then contorted. “And everything to gain . . . spoken like a true Aes Sidhe. You know you are of the Aes Sidhe, don’t you? You are . . . kindred. You carry a gift. You need to bring it to them―you need to find the island and lift its curse. You ne
ed to find your people, and you need to go out there and take back your life.”
Sive heard the words. A door opened within.
Certainty.
These words were painful. These words were truth.
Orphir’s shoulders jerked and her head shot up. Shadows darted around the tent and a breeze came from nowhere. She threw herself forward and grabbed Orphir by the shoulders, holding her tight. Orphir felt cold; her hair was covered in frost, her lips blue. Her breath came in slow clouds.
“Orphir . . . come on, come back; it’s not your time. Stay with me―come back from that place, we need you. I need you.”
Orphir’s jaw twitched and a strangled voice tore from her throat. “Will you act on your knowledge? Will you fulfill your destiny? Answer us, Aes Sidhe girl . . .”
Sive held on to her friend and closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing. “Aye, aye, yes, I will do this thing you ask.”
As soon as the words had left her mouth, Orphir jerked once, twice, and then collapsed into Sive’s arms. Color returned to Orphir’s face. Her breathing settled. A bird called outside.
Sive knew the sound.
The geese had arrived.
Chapter 2: Mevia
Mevia slipped on the deck, landing against the broken mast.
She cursed.
The ship was listing badly. What the hell was she doing here? She should’ve listened to Aril back in Imraldi and abandoned this job. So far, what had she scavenged? Nothing. Nothing . . . well, nothing besides that jeweled key she’d found in the captain’s quarters. The pinchers had taught her to see a room as the owner saw it.
It was a strange-looking key, but Mevia knew the jewels would be worth something. But what use was a key without a lock?
Her leather armor had absorbed the impact of the mast. She hauled herself up and moved across the deck. The sea was calm, the tide full, the broken ship stuck fast on the rocks. It’d cost her a whole day to reach the wreck, and she’d taken unnecessary risks. So long as the weather held, she’d make it back to Imraldi tomorrow. She hated the sea―she couldn’t even swim. What was she thinking?
Aril’s voice came to her. “Why do you want to go there? It’s too dangerous―you should stick to grave robbing, at least your marks are dead . . . and you get to stay on land.”
Seabirds cried out overhead and wet timbers creaked below her feet. What she’d said to Aril seemed stupid now.
“I want more, we need more―you’re getting no better. We . . . I can’t afford the medicine anymore. The gravers are being more careful now, they’re guarding the dead and using new dogs―the witchers have changed them, they can see in the dark, I swear. It’s no good.”
“You could do the graves over the wall, the lost souls. I know it’s more effort but at least there are no guards.”
Mevia stared at her little sister. She wanted to shout but she couldn’t. Sometimes it was easier to agree. “Aye, you’re right, maybe I’ll try that. After the ship.”
“The ship’s a day’s walk from Imraldi. Raven Point’s a dangerous place, and the rocks there will break your bones. One fall . . . you’ll be gone, taken by the sea and the Finn folk. You’ll end up in Finnakheem and never find your way home.” Aril’s voice had taken on a desperate tone.
“The Sea Scavenger was carrying a valuable cargo: silks, spices, and maybe spark dust. I know Duak’s boys got most of it, but it was a big ship and there’s likely some loot they overlooked. All we need is a little extra to see us through the winter. When the spring traders come, I can join the pinchers again―they’re always looking for extra fingers to cut those fat purses.”
“You’ve your heart set on it then.” Aril’s tone was resigned.
Mevia kept silent.
“Make an offering to Amaren before you go. She’ll guide your feet and give you the sight. You promise you’ll do that for me?”
“Aye, little sister, I will. I’ll make my peace with Amaren. Now settle down. Get some sleep.”
Aril lay back on her bed and turned over. She coughed once, twice, and then lay still, her breathing shallow. Sometimes her breathing stopped, making Mevia fear the worst, but Aril was a fighter: she’d fought the lung rot for months now.
Mevia didn’t know what she’d do without her sister. Their family had been ravaged, first by the scourge and then by the lung rot. The scourge had taken their mother, the lung rot their father. Mevia would not let the rot take her sister, at least not without a fight. The medicine the highborns used seemed to work, but it cost gold―more gold than could be found by robbing middle-born graves.
She needed to take a risk. Gold only came to those who took risks, and the Sea Scavenger was such a risk. Recently wrecked in the winter storms, held on the rocks at Raven Point, it would certainly be dangerous. She could die trying, she knew . . . but then everyone dies sometime.
Something caught her eye and her thoughts snapped back to the present. An area of decking was damaged, but not by the storm or the rocks. She approached the gaping hole. The timbers had been ripped out. She crouched down to examine the splintered wood. There were long scrapes across the hardwood in evenly spaced rows.
Mevia stared at the marks. Her shoulders jerked, and she looked up at the sky. The marks were from claws . . . talons.
She took a breath through clenched teeth before pulling out her sword. She stood alert for a long minute. The marks were fresh―whatever had done this wasn’t long gone. The skies were clear besides the seabirds. Mevia relaxed and lowered her blade.
She peered down into the hole. It penetrated the heart of the ship, down two levels. Seawater surged thirty feet below―the hold was flooded. Even Duak’s men with all their resources could not have searched that section. She should have a quick look―she’d come all this way and only had the key to show for it.
“Turn back now. It’s folly to go down there, sister.” Aril’s voice whispered in her head.
Mevia ignored the internal dialogue and took a silken rope from her pack. The rope, with its Sclavian steel grappler, she had stolen.
A thief’s only as good as her tools, she mused.
She secured the rope around the mast, dropping the rest down the hole. She took a last look along the deck and climbed over the edge, lowering herself into space.
It became still as soon as she was off the windswept deck. She hung suspended, gently twisting. Creaks and groans came from deep within the broken ship, its hull still standing against the sea, but Mevia knew it would not survive another storm. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom . . . broken timbers everywhere, and the remains of the galley. Below that, the sleeping quarters, then the flooded hold.
Mevia lowered herself another few feet, her boots brushing against the galley timbers. Gingerly, she tested the broken floor with her foot. It seemed sound enough. She placed both feet on the timbers, holding on to the rope. The floor held, and she dropped down and crouched, looking at the flooded hold beneath her. Distant cries of seabirds reached her from above.
Her hands were gripping the heavy timbers when something caught her eye. Long gashes ran along the boards under her hands and feet. She turned and stared deeper into the galley. An ornate chest lay against the wall at the back of the room, gleaming dully in the half light.
The chest was open.
Chapter 3: Ae’fir
“I want to believe . . . ” Ae’fir knelt in front of the statue.
Goddess Danu, Seraphim.
Of all the Aes Sidhe deities, Danu was the one who spoke to his heart. He wanted to believe the Aes Sidhe were descended from the Seraphim messengers and that they really did fall to Erthe from the stars. He wanted to believe that every one of them carried divine blood, that he too was a descendant of the gods. Danu’s wings were wrapped around her body, her majestic headpiece framing her head. Her eyes bathed him in blue light.
Something seemed to burst in his chest. He would do anything for his people, for the Seraphim goddess and his birth right, Dal Riata.
&n
bsp; Ae’fir whispered under his breath. “I want to walk in the land of the living again, to breathe the air, feel grass under my feet, wind on my skin. I want to believe―help me believe, help me take back what is ours, help me free our homeland from the fleshbones. Guide me to Inis Cealtra, allow me to open the floodgates on this world. Let their king believe in Rysa’s lies, in her phantom pregnancy―let the false trail divert them, let them think they have the upper hand. Keep the truth from them, keep their eyes clouded until I can open the ground at Inis Cealtra and break the Banishment.”
He fell silent, recalling the conversation he’d had the previous day with Tara Lau and the rest of the Aes Sidhe Maidens. Tara Lau’s words came back to him. “Ae’fir, you’ve been chosen to breach the Banishment for our warriors at Inis Cealtra. Our days in this prison, this wilderness, are coming to an end. The forebears of the Nephilim only had the power to keep us here for a thousand years, and this time is nearly up. Their descendants have forgotten much of what their ancestors have done to us, and they have lost much of their magic. They are weak, mere shadows of their former selves.”
Tara Lau paused, reaching out to Ae’fir’s shoulder. “Rise Ae’fir, there is no need to kneel―we are equals in this endeavor. The old ways will be replaced once we’ve won our land back, once we have defeated the Banishment.”
Ae’fir stood and took Tara Lau’s hand. “Maidens of the Aes Sidhe, I am honored you have chosen me. Who else is to join me in this task?”
The Maidens surrounding him leaned in. Tara Lau gripped his hand. “Ae’fir, we are only able to send you and one other through the Banishment. We are not strong enough yet. Once you’ve opened the ground at Inis Cealtra, we’ll be able to access our sacred power there. We hold influence on that ground―the Erthe still listens to us there, though she has forgotten us elsewhere . . . it has been too long. This task falls to you and your companion alone.”
Tara Lau paused. Ae’fir searched her eyes. “I understand my lady. Who is this other who is to accompany me?”
“You will take the dreamcaster, Eriu. He will assist you in your search for Scalibur. He will create your double, he will weave the mistruths that will precede you, he will work the diversion through Rysa and her phantom pregnancy. He will distract King Loarn and his men with your double. Once you have retrieved the blade, you will have the power you need to overcome anyone who bars your way to Inis Cealtra. Eriu will be your guide on this journey.”
Aes Sidhe Page 1
