by Ken Altabef
Pox came at him again. Meadowlark dodged and weaved, this time taking the tip of the sabre straight through his shoulder. The blade cut deep, scraping to the bone before Pox drew it out again. Meadowlark spun round. Circling his attacker, he managed to pluck the dagger from his opponent’s belt.
“Ha aha!” he said, triumphant despite the pain. He waggled the dagger at Pox. “Not so easy, is it?”
By the time he’d finished the sentence, Pox had already charged. Pox swung his blade as a diversion and then knocked the dagger from Meadowlark’s grip with his free hand. The dagger skittered across the tiled floor.
Meadowlark strained to think up a clever retort to that. Before he could speak Pox stepped into his attack, swinging the sabre in wide, vicious arcs. Meadowlark jumped back, turned a cartwheel to the side and, facing another attack immediately, hesitated as to which way to turn. Pox’s powerful fist struck him across the jaw. Meadowlark’s head whipped to the side, his jawbone dislocated, his head swimming. He stumbled backward even further, clumsily knocking the wicker screen and bringing it clattering down around him.
On the other side, a child cried out in alarm.
Meadowlark scrabbled backwards along the floor with no real plan in mind except perhaps to scurry under Oberon’s cradle. It was a better plan than ever he imagined, as the two banshees, standing guard on either side of the child’s bed stepped forward. They moved with a silent grace, their black robes flowing like water behind them as they placed themselves in front of Meadowlark and the crib.
“Haha ha!” roared Meadowlark. “They are sworn to protect the babe, Pox, and that means his father as well!”
Pox could not meet their gaze. The withered faces of the creatures unnerved him more than he could ever imagine. One word from either of them, he knew, and he would be struck dead, sabre or no sabre. He sheathed his blade.
“There will be another time, dog,” he growled. “And soon!”
Meadowlark crawled out from under the crib. He stood up, unembarrassed in his nudity and gave a deep courtly bow. “Thank you, ladies. Much obliged.”
As always they said nothing, but alternated their gaze between his every movement and the pouting child in the crib.
“Such a sweet baby,” he said, waggling his fingers at Oberon.
Feeling the banshees’ gaze still hot upon hm, Meadowlark dared not approach the queen’s bed. He settled for the hard floor in a corner of the room. He shoved his dislocated jaw and it settled back into place with an audible click. He nursed his injured shoulder. A wonderful day so far, and it was still only noon. At least Dresdemona was too exhausted to torment him any further. He wondered whether she would spare him her depredations today, in appreciation for having saved her from Pox’s foul intentions. Not hardly. He doubted she would believe his story at all.
Chapter 59
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Theodora said as she struggled to sit up.
Nora clicked her tongue. “But Mother, are you sure? You don’t look well enough to be travelling.”
“It’s just to the surface. I’m going! And I’m casting my vote. Just like you and everyone else.”
“There’s no need to strain yourself,” Moonshadow said. “Eccobius has assured me. According to his tally, we have more than enough votes to beat Dresdemona, even after what happened at Bowburn.”
“What did happen exactly? Does anyone really know?”
“King George sent a considerable force—forty men I’ve heard—but they all died on the moors. Not one survivor left to tell the tale.”
“And Dresdemona’s story?”
“She says she destroyed them.”
“Using Effranil magic.” Both Nora and Theodora said this at once, though Theodora’s tone held quite a bit more sarcasm than her daughter’s. “She might just be saying that,” Theodora added. “Taking credit. Maybe it was the French.”
“In the middle of the north country?”
“There must be some other explanation. Not just some magical dance.”
“Funny thing about the dance,” Moonshadow said. “It seemed to take quite a lot out of her. She collapsed at the end. People in the courtyard said they thought she was close to death.”
“She has a flair for theatrics,” Nora said. “I’ll give her that.”
Theodora sat on the edge of the bed. “Theatrics or not, phony story or not, it’s still more dangerous than you think. Once people get to believing her lies, telling the story as if it were a fable—that’s how things get out of hand. We’re lucky the vote is today, before this nonsense goes any further. But after we win, we’re going to have to take measures to curb her popularity.”
“And what about retaliation?” Nora asked. “There are soldiers still stationed within the walls of Everbright.”
“That’s just the thing,” Moonshadow returned. “They found Lieutenant Simms early this morning. He’d hanged himself from the barracks’ lintel post. After that, the rest of the soldiers left. They were given free passage out the front gate.”
Nora took a deep breath. “Good riddance, then.”
“Suicide?” said Theodora. “Did she arrange that too? And how long before George sends another regiment?”
Moonshadow shook her head. “Not soon, I don’t think.”
“I’ll be glad when this challenge is over and done with.” Theodora gazed at her face in a hand mirror. “Good lord, I look a mess. Where’s that hair brush? Can we be so sure a vote will be the end of it? I don’t trust her! I tell you, she’s no good. If she loses the vote I don’t know what she’ll do. We have to be ready for anything. I’m bringing a sword.”
“Oh Mother, stop it. You’re in no condition to fight anyone.”
“Someone may have to.”
“I could,” said Moonshadow meekly.
“You’ve never fought anyone in your life.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t!”
“You don’t even know how to use a blade,” Theodora pointed out. “She’s a killer. You aren’t.”
“It won’t have to be like that at all. I’ll have Mother Moon on my side.”
“Oh Moonshadow dear, that won’t be enough…”
“I think I can beat her. I won’t have to kill her. There’s something about me you don’t know, Clarimonde—no one knows. I went to Avalon, with James, a few days ago. They taught me something there. A trick of time, a way of moving between the timedrops. Oh, I can’t really explain it. Only a few of the Effranil can do it.”
Theodora cast a suspicious glance at her half-sister.
“It’s true. I’ll show you.” Moonshadow walked across the healing chamber until she reached the far side. “Ready?”
“I suppose.”
She came forward in a flash, having drawn a jeweled dagger from somewhere and suddenly appeared behind Theodora, the dagger held at her throat.
Theodora couldn’t believe it. “Where did you get that dagger?”
“From the night table,” Moonshadow explained. “It’s one of yours.”
“How could you move so fast?”
“I moved between the timedrops. That’s what they showed me in Avalon.”
“That’s some trick,” Theodora admitted.
“A trick of time. Dresdemona will never see me coming. If it comes to it, I’ll surprise her. You see? I can win.”
She handed the weapon to Nora, saying, “You hold onto this. You bring it to the vote. If needs be, I’ll take it from you before anyone knows what’s happening.”
Theodora was still not convinced. “I still say it’s too dangerous. It’s not our way. Challenges. Fights to the death. Dirty tricks. We’re playing her game. It’s all no good.”
Theodora had never seen Seelie Park so crowded before. Every faery she had ever known in Barrow Downes as well as those who had come to Everbright from Deepgrave and anywhere else, every faery she had ever seen before and quite a few others, all stood packed into the large open space. The crowd extended to the limits
of the park and beyond, filling every gap between the trees with faeries perched among all the branches as well. Despite the seriousness of the occasion, a sort of festival atmosphere had developed, with people singing and playing conflicting strains of music, waving banners, making love and flashing odd bits of faery light. None of this surprised Theodora. It was typical behavior wherever faery-folk were concerned.
Nora said, “I don’t see Threadneedle anywhere. Do you, Mother?”
She didn’t. “Let’s get closer to the front.”
“I haven’t heard from him in over a week,” Nora continued. “Was he sent on some sort of a mission?”
“No,” said Moonshadow, “He’s just gone.”
“Sometimes he goes off by himself,” Theodora added, sensing Nora’s discomfort.
“But now? With all of this happening?”
“It’ll be alright.”
“The last time we were together, Midsummer’s Eve. He was acting so strangely,” Nora recalled. “He wouldn’t make love to me. On Midsummer’s Eve! I knew something was wrong.” She turned to Theodora, tears in her eyes. “Why would he leave now?”
“We’ll sort it all out later, dewdrop. For now, let’s just get through the vote.”
They made their way through the crowd to the small circular clearing in the center. Everyone stepped out of their way when they saw that Moonshadow was with them. It seemed nearly everyone they passed must be in their camp, as they offered encouraging smiles to Moonshadow as she went by.
In the central clearing Eccobius stood next to the incandenza, the ceremonial brazier used at Barrow Downes during the annual Festival of Lights. Theodora was surprised to see it used out of season, but there had been so few challenges to Moonshadow’s leadership she wasn’t sure what the correct protocol might be. Surely Eccobius knew what he was doing. He stood beside a short lectern that held the crown Dresdemona had shown them on Midsummer’s Eve. The Crown of Joy Eternal. It still glowed with silvery light though not as brightly as before. Theodora smirked. They had never needed a crown before.
Eccobius welcomed Moonshadow into the circle and some of the faery-folk cheered her. He greeted her with a warm smile and it was mostly smiles all around. So far, so good.
Theodora wondered what type of grand entrance Dresdemona had planned. “Stay close to the front,” she told Nora, thinking of the jeweled dagger her daughter kept concealed under her waistband. “You never know.”
Theodora felt decidedly uncomfortable in the crowd. She kept thinking back to Midsummer’s Eve and the attempt on her life. She’d never identified the assassin. It could have been anyone, perhaps even one of the faeries standing right next to her right now. She had suffered through a long recovery from the poison and still felt too weak to stand for very long. In time, she expected a return to full strength. But if she faced another attack now…
A hand pressed down on her shoulder. She almost jumped out of her skin.
“Mother?”
Theodora exhaled sharply. It was only James. “I’m fine. You surprised me, is all.”
She kissed the tip of one of his antlers. “I’m glad you’re here. Stay close to me. My big strong son. Handsome too.”
James blushed a slightly deeper shade of purple. “Look, here she comes!”
Dresdemona had appeared at the far end of the circle, accompanied by none other than Meadowlark. She had allowed him to dress for the occasion in a simple shirt and jacket of woven green fiber. His head hanging low, he caught Theodora’s gaze across the circle, but looked quickly away.
Meadowlark had been the last person to challenge Moonshadow for leadership, at the Festival of Lights more than ten years ago. After a passionate but mostly nonsensical speech he’d been quickly voted down. He quit Barrow Downes, taking to the woods to seek out the hideous hag Black Annis and the Winter Court. But looking at him now, a broken man, rendered virtually a slave to the Dark Queen, he bore almost no resemblance to the fiery faery of those few years ago. Theodora thought of his warm embrace and their newfound feelings for each other. Now Dresdemona had somehow taken possession of him, badly using him for her own amusement. We’ll see about that, she thought, when all this is over and I am well again. We’ll just see about that.
Dresdemona wore a simple but elegant dress cut just above her knees, in a dark blue or black color that accentuated her long, unusually dark hair. She appeared more pale than usual, her skin a dusky copper color rather than the vibrant hue of earlier days. So, no grand entrance then, Theodora thought. She looks tired and weak. Maybe there was something to that story about the war dance. Had she really destroyed a full regiment of British soldiers with a dance?
There’s too much we don’t know about her. But Threadneedle knew. And he was long gone.
Moonshadow and Dresdemona faced each other across the dais. Moonshadow wore a simple frock gown, also cut rather short and belted at the waist with a single strand of silver. Eccobius raised his hand, a few golden faery lights popping off at his fingertips. A call for attention.
“Who will light he incandenza today?” he asked. “Who will wear this crown? You all know why we are here, and in a few moments you will be asked to decide, as per our longstanding custom. Perhaps at this time we might take a moment to recall the many, many years we enjoyed under the fine leadership of Moon Dancer. Any of you with a cup of wine in your hands, raise it in remembrance of her.” He raised his other hand, empty but poised as if it had contained such a cup and tilted it toward the great ash tree not far away.
The crowd rumbled. Dresdemona smirked.
Meadowlark chanced a raising of his head. Looking straight at Theodora he mouthed the words ‘I love you.’ There was such a pained expression on his face, as if he were struggling to mime each syllable. And then as if she had read his mind, or perhaps caught the movement of his lips out of the corner of her eye, Dresdemona slapped him on the back of the head. A few people laughed. Meadowlark’s gaze went back down.
Theodora’s heart broke. She felt so full of rage and hatred for Dresdemona. The whole thing made her ill and dizzy. She felt weak at the knees and nearly fell, but for James’ steady hand at her elbow.
“Mother?” he whispered.
Theodora shook him off and forced herself to stand on her own two feet. Dresdemona had done this to her, but today was the day the so-called Dark Queen gets her comeuppance. She wouldn’t miss this for the world.
“And now we shall hear the challenge,” Eccobius said. “Give your attention to Dryxlla Pendragon.”
A total silence fell over the park. Everyone wanted to hear what she had to say.
Dresdemona took her position at the podium. “Weakness,” she said.
She let the word hang in the air for a painfully long moment.
“You are led, at present, by a person who exemplifies that term. Weakness. She might have done an adequate job overseeing life cowering in a hovel below ground. She might do for a life under the thumb of British aristocracy. Human British aristocracy. She might do if there were not someone among you better suited for the task.” She straightened her back and some color returned to her cheeks.
She gestured to the charred ruins of the chapel. “There is your British chapel—now a pile of stinking ash. And there is your British army barracks—abandoned and empty. I promise you, we’ll tear it down tomorrow. The human workers are gone, the soldiers are gone. This place is ours! Not theirs!”
Many in the crowd reacted favorably, shouting approval and sparking tiny bursts of light overhead.
Dresdemona smiled and spread her arms wide. “We stand now in Everbright. A faery dream realized. And as much as we have achieved, a new dream is born this day. A dream of Avalon. I make this challenge not for myself, but in the name of Oberon, my son.” She pointed an elegant finger up at the West Tower. “A true son of Avalon. Our promise of the future. After I win the vote, I will rule as regent only, until such time as King Oberon comes of age for us. Give me the Crown of Joy Eternal, to keep in hi
s stead, until the true King assumes leadership at Everbright.”
How admirably unselfish, thought Theodora. How sickening!
Now it was Moonshadow’s turn. She glanced at the crowd, as if she had no clear idea of what to say. The awkward silence stretched a bit too long and then she spoke, in a firm, confident voice. “In all this talk, I did not hear a single mention of Mother Moon.”
She let that sit for a moment.
“Burning churches? Killing soldiers? The Wild Hunt? Is this what it means to be a faery nowadays? Violence is not Her way.” She pointed up at the open sky. “Dynasties? Child-kings?” She shook her head.
“Love. Peace. Freedom. That is the promise of Mother Moon, the promise for our future. Not endless war. Not the Wild Hunt. Not Herne, the Lord of the Hunt, with blood-soaked hands. There is still time to make amends with the British. We can negotiate. There are scholars and wise people among us.” She indicated Eccobius, who took a little bow. “Fellowship is an avenue to strength too, a better path than sabre points and drawn fangs. Love. Peace. Freedom. That is what I offer, what I have always believed in. Let us at Everbright go forth as a proud new nation, a city-state of faeries surrounded by friends instead of enemies.”
Her speech provoked a barrage of cheers, but some boos and hisses as well.
“Well said. Well said on both sides,” said Eccobius. He took his place between the two. “We will now have a show of lights.” He raised both hands. “A red light,” and such a one flared in his upraised left hand, “will signify a vote for Dryxlla. A blue light will define a vote for Moonshadow.” A blue light flared in his other hand. He let them both burn for a moment and then let them down.
Hands went up all throughout the park. Theodora, Nora and James all raised the blue light. But looking around, it was easy to see the red lights vastly outnumbered the blue.
