Seelie (The Falcon Grey Files Book 1)

by Sarah Luddington

  The world I knew as DI Falcon Grey melted from me and I stood on a hill, resembling Tap o’Noth but with a new sky and new weather.

  “I knew the ‘Yes’ album covers looked familiar,” I muttered.

  “I remember the first time I saw ‘Wizard of Oz’. I thought they’d found a way into our world,” Gifling said, remaining sane.

  We stood on a hill, but the hill hung in a void, suspended over nothing, with a path leading down and away, a bridge of sorts. The colours were muted and slightly off – the earth more red than it should be with trails of purple weaving through the rock and mud. The grass was blue green, the blades wide and rough. I saw trees in the distance, on a larger section of land, their green white leaves bright in the muted light. The sky shone blue, the clouds long and streaky, the sun older. I didn’t know if it was, I didn’t even know if it was the same sun. Thoughts of this kind were alien to our people. We were not scientists, we were creatures of magic and desire. If we wanted something badly enough we moved into the other world and simply took it, but what’s the point in mobile phones if you blow them up by using the simplest of tricks? Things deemed important to modern humans left most Seelie feeling cold and uninterested. We used to steal their horses, their armour, their gold and jewels, but not computers, satellites or motor cars and because of this, our worlds were separating, diverging and with it, our people becoming estranged. Few moved from one world to another as freely as I did, nor did they want to most of the time.

  Personally, I’d forgotten how strangely beautiful my home world was, but I’d also found it odd moving the other way, adjusting to the human world with its own colours and shapes.

  “Come,” Gifling said, pulling on my hand.

  “We need a plan,” I said. “It’s all very well you bringing me here like this, but I have no idea how I’m supposed to save Marcus from my sister’s clutches. And I don’t think I’m going to be able to pull off a trick like taking down the Slugh again.”

  As I said the name I felt the creature stir at the sound. Gifling stared at me in shock. “Shh, don’t. Just because you chained it once you don’t want to wake it again,” she said, waving her hands to tell me to be quiet.

  “I could wake it and give it my sister’s scent,” I muttered.

  “Your sister’s scent will be all over innocent people. She’s a creature of serious desires.”

  “I know.” I sighed heavily and the pain of my back and ribs rippled through me. “I’m not strong enough for this.” I sat down heavily. “I don’t want to be here. They’ve had a trial you know. I’m going to be hunted by everything in Elfhame. I’m wounded.”

  Gifling settled beside me and picked at her leather dress, pulling off lumps of fur. “You don’t want to be king,” she said.

  “No, I don’t. It’ll kill me, Gifling. I can’t do it,” I said.

  She stared out over our strange land for a long time. “You aren’t the right man, it’s true. Your brother is a stronger person. He will be a good king,” she said.

  I looked at her. “You know my brother?”

  “You think I wouldn’t check who was going to take charge after your family wiped out my kind because we stood against your lot? And besides I have other reasons for wanting to know the King’s children,” she said.

  I drew her into a hug and kissed the matted hair. “Thank you, Gifling.”

  “Pretty Birdy, kisses Gifling!” she squeaked, bouncing.

  “Don’t give me that.” I laughed at her. “You’re saner than I am!”

  “Not difficult, Crown Prince of Elfhame,” she said, calm once more. She sighed. “If you wipe out your sister before your brother is ready, they will force the crown on your head when your father finally dies.”

  “And I lose everything.”

  “So we need to make sure your father becomes strong enough to survive,” she said.

  “He’s been bonkers for most of my life, how the hell are we supposed to make him able to take the reins now?” I asked.

  “I think that’s my job,” she said, patting my knee. “You deal with your sister. I’ll deal with your father.”

  “How?” I asked, suspicious of her motives.

  She smiled brightly. “Do you really care?”

  I considered the question. “No, I don’t, so long as I don’t have to take the damned throne.” I flexed and the pain in my back grew worse. “I need to deal with this,” I said. I closed my eyes drew in a breath. The deep inhalation brought me the life of Elfhame; the taste of my land – dark and eternal – more mystery than logic, more magic than science. I focused the power down and through, to the damaged parts of my body. I’d never found it so easy to heal the wounds given to me by others. The bones grew strong and the torn skin knitted together.

  I opened my eyes. “Wow! That was one helluva kick.”

  “Good, because we have company,” Gifling said. She pointed outward beyond the bridge joining this far removed part of Elfhame from the centre.

  My vision sharpened and I focused on the distant figures. “Soldiers, Leo knows we are here,” I said.

  Gifling’s mouth twisted. “I don’t want nasty stroppy lion to know I’m here,” she said and I saw her eyes drift from the sharply honed mind of moments ago to the mischievous child she’d been in Scotland.

  I groaned. “Really helpful, Gifling, really helpful.”

  She grinned at me, all toothy and slack jawed. “Birdie, get arrested and we get back much quicker.”

  “I think I’d rather go home under my own steam,” I said. I struggled to my feet, Gifling opted to climb onto my back and I began to run over the strange bridge.

  In my home world nothing really exists until it is brought into being by something strong enough to manipulate matter. There are certain rules, we can’t create technology from magic, we can’t easily use firearms without switching the more ‘ethereal’ parts of our personalities off and we can’t create complex life forms. We can create land, populate it with trees and grass, encourage water, and make it beautiful to look at – but then we move on and forget.

  The Tap o’Noth was one of these neglected places. The veil here was thin between the worlds and in times past a powerful Seelie had created a place to join this world with the human one. Then they’d grown bored and moved on or died and it had been forgotten. Just one more place humans found spooky and uncomfortable, sensing the otherness of our world just under the surface, but the land around the powerful connection began to crumble away in Elfhame. The reality of it dissolving back into a state of pure energy. One day someone would collect that energy up and perhaps rebuild this part of Elfhame, but right now, it looked like a patchwork of floating chunks of world, strung together with arching bridges that would slowly crumble away. The stuff between these chunks of varying sizes was a pale whitewashed blue during the day but when the sun went down it would grow black and no stars shone in that void.

  The smooth path would lead me straight into the arms of the soldiers and I didn’t have the time to create a new one. I also didn’t want to be tied to Elfhame any more than I was already and creating land wouldn’t help my bid for freedom. I raced onward, Gifling no more than a feather on my back, a feather because I was Elfhame’s Crown Prince and my form was many.

  I stretched myself, my body becoming a blade which speared the air, carving a path through the world, through Elfhame. Between one breath and the next I’d shifted to my purest form – the mightiest raptor in any world.

  The scream of joy coming from my soul reverberated around the land. The soldiers grew still, their black armour swallowing the light, and I flexed my wings to turn in the air, spiralling upward and diving down to play with a freedom I’d forgotten. Echoing screech after screech came from deep inside. I was Elfhame, I was light, I was darkness and I was freedom.

  The world opened up under me and I saw my sister’s influence everywhere. Some parts of Elfhame could not be destroyed, they were inhabited and solid, but if the marriage between the r
oyal household and the land was not solid the land suffered. The lesser Seelie should be harvesting and everywhere I looked I saw barren land, rough dry grasses and trees empty of fruit. Animals were starving and riverbeds were empty.

  This was the result of my father gradually surrendering his power to my sister and accidentally to me. The Seelie king is married to the land, literally, and if that marriage is corrupted the land suffers. My father’s madness had begun to break down the connections and now the change was almost complete.

  My cries became mournful as I flexed my wings and drove upward. The further I looked the worse it became and as I neared our mighty citadel I realised even the stones were mourning. The sun should be reflecting off white stone, blazing bright, but instead the stones were grey, mottled in places with black lichen and even from so high, I could smell the corruption. What had I done to the people of Elfhame by leaving Leo here unchecked?

  I began to circle downward, desperate now to find Marcus and the countless others I’d left behind in this benighted place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It took me a long time to drive myself down, the instincts of the predator strong and wanting to travel onward. I came in to land on the edge of a dust bowl just outside the citadel’s north wall. My talons reached out and flexed, my wings caused a back draft and between one breath and the next I changed form, returning to the man.

  “Again!” Gifling squealed and kicked me in the ribs.

  I laughed and lifted her off my back by reaching for the scruff of her neck. She hung in my hand like a kitten.

  “I want to go again!” she said. “I want to ride the pretty Birdie.”

  “No more sky rides,” I said. “Not until we sort this mess out, Gifling. Thank you for being so good, taking passengers isn’t something I normally do.” I placed her down and she rushed in to hug my leg.

  “I loves the Birdie,” she declared.

  I chuckled and peeled the strange Seelie off my leg. “I’m very fond of you too,” I reassured her.

  She sniffed hugely as if overcome with emotions I could only guess at and wiped her eyes. She huffed and stared hard at the walls. “Horrid place,” she said.

  “I fear so. I have no idea what’s happening but I don’t think any of it is good. This isn’t going to be easy. I should be here with an army.” I looked at the vast stone walls, more than one hundred feet high in places, and despaired at the flood of misery I felt leaking out.

  “An army not take this place,” Gifling said. “Never has and my people tried. But one man? One man can make a difference.”

  “I wish I had your confidence,” I said. “I also wish I had Marcus here.”

  “Bear in there,” Gifling said helpfully pointing at the wall.

  “Hmm.” I took her by the hand and we walked toward the vast stone city.

  During my time, centuries of it, I’d moved between the human world and Elfhame almost at will. I’d seduced men and women in Venice and Florence during the Renaissance, Marcus and I playing all manner of games. I’d hit Paris during the revolution, stealing desperate men’s wives from under their noses as they tried to escape Madame Guillotine. I’d done Berlin before the Great War and Shanghai during the Opium Wars. I’d been to all manner of cities all over the world during countless periods in history but none were like Elfhame’s capital, Gimlé.

  Carved from the largest outcrop of rock imaginable, it was one vast structure, seamless and mighty. From the immense walls it just grew upward until it reached the fortified palace at the top. Once there were vast trees and blooming vines sheltering the inhabitants from the harsh winters or hot summers; now nothing flowered and the trees were shadows of their former selves.

  “This isn’t going to be fun,” I muttered. We approached the wall but I couldn’t bring myself to touch it, the wailing of the land already tearing at my mind. She could not be married to a woman, she wanted a man in charge and that man was currently me. I, of course, didn’t want to be married to the land. I wanted Marcus and until I produced heirs through Elfhame’s proxy, I couldn’t take any other lovers, male or otherwise.

  Not a happy thought.

  We came to a small door in the northern wall and I placed my hand on the wooden surface. It actively shivered at my touch, as if I caressed a virginal girl on her wedding night.

  “Fuck, I don’t like this,” I said.

  “She’ll release you once she has a viable alternative,” Gifling said, sanity reigning once more.

  I wasn’t convinced but the door opened and we gained access to Gimlé. This entrance would take us quickly up to the centre of the city but we’d pass through some grim places on the way. The houses were all piled on each other, harsh terraces that almost resembled flats from sink estates. These places were for the workers, the poor, and although the poor would always exist, when I’d left Gimlé they were cared for and life filled these streets. People grew food in the tenements and on their balconies. They kept rabbits, chickens and even pigs in small yards. There were mules and ponies to help move excess food to the market places to trade alongside the farmers and merchants from all over Elfhame. Now I saw nothing growing and the people were silent – hollow cheeked, skin as grey as the walls caging them, arms and legs thin but bellies bloated. The children with large, empty eyes and straggly hair. Youths stood on corners, scowling at this stranger in their midst, moving with confidence and obvious health. I grew very aware of my clothing and ducked into the nearest shop in the first bazaar we found which might be able to help. The shop heaved with all manner of products, from wooden plates to bolts of fabric. The front stood open and tables spewed out over the street, just like its neighbours, but the goods were dusty.

  An old man stood behind a worn counter, sucking on empty gums, his white hair a thin cloud around his face.

  “Hello,” I said.

  He stared at me blankly and I realised nothing lived behind the eyes but memories I didn’t need.

  “Hello?” I asked more loudly.

  A curse and some muttering came from the back of the shop. A woman walked in cursing like a sailor and sucking on a finger.

  “Have you any idea how hard it is to make soup from fresh air?” she asked me.

  “Erm...”

  “Damn near impossible, so if you are here to sell something forget it. I’ve no money to buy any nonsense from some ‘out of the city’ pretty boy,” she said, placing her hands firmly on her slim hips.

  Hair the colour of wildfire poured over her shoulders and down her back. Eyes the rich colour of turned earth in the autumn and lips like an echo of the heart’s blood, pursed in annoyance and challenge.

  “I’m here to buy,” I said, staring at her.

  She cocked her head to one side and I realised she only looked up at me slightly. Tall for a woman, even one of the Seelie race. Her breasts were smaller than most would prefer and she didn’t cage them in layers of corsets, unlike the women in the palace.

  “You don’t look like you have anything of value,” she said. Her voice was deep and strong.

  “I have things from the mortal world,” I said, trying to shake some sense into my head.

  She frowned. “Not much call for things we can’t eat.”

  “No, I can see that,” I said.

  “So you don’t have anything to eat for this trade?” she asked.

  I glanced down at Gifling. “Only her,” I said and tried a smile.

  Gifling began to babble but I tuned out her noise and concentrated on the beauty before me. In a world of grey and despair she shone like a star of flaming gold.

  “I’m the Crown Prince of Elfhame, Falcon the Grey, I need your help,” I found myself saying.

  She blinked several times her lashes dark against her pale skin. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. Out.” She pointed to the front of the shop.

  “But –”

  “There is enough misery here, I don’t need yours as well, imagining you are the –”

  I raised my hand and bo
wed my head for a moment. I opened my palm and a rose the colour of her lips sat in my hand. “I need your help,” I repeated.

  Her eyes widened for a moment, before she frowned hard. “You couldn’t make it a loaf of bread?” she asked.

  “Everyone’s a critic,” I said and once more I concentrated. I drew on the power of Elfhame, this would be harder. The rose was a shell of nothing, coloured and shaped, bread would need to be a thing of substance. I breathed hard and relaxed, forming the loaf in my mind, crafting it carefully and filling it with flavour.

  The loaf grew heavy in my hand and I heard her amazement. I smiled but the exhaustion made me wobble and I clutched the countertop. “Your bread, my lady,” I said.

  She took it from my hand, raised it to her nose and inhaled. “Bread,” she whispered and I heard a gambit of emotions lying under the surface. From amazement to shame that such a simple thing as bread should mean so much to her. She took a small chunk from the corner and handed it to the old man, sitting him down and pouring him water. “Eat, father,” she instructed and stroked his cotton wisp hair. Once certain the old man ate, she turned back to me.

  “Falcon the Grey, is it?” she asked. “Well, Falcon the Grey, I thank you and in return I might be able to offer some small service.”

  At this point I half wanted to drop to my knees and beg her to let me serve her forever, the other half of me wanted to make her serve me. A small voice said it was probably best to just ask her for what I really needed.

  “Clothes,” I said. “I need clothes and gossip if you have it. I’d also like your name, my lady.”

  “Olwen, my name is Olwen, Highness.” And she moved from behind the counter and curtseyed.

  I laughed. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” I reached out to stop her genuflection. My hand touched her arm, bare of fabric because of the heat, and a spark arced between us making us both flinch. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m being a bit unpredictable. I’ve been away from home a long time.”