by Amy Sumida
“We'll scry before we return,” Raza advised Rory.
“Danu guide you, Your Majesties and Your Highness,” Rory said as he shut the gate behind us.
“I'm sorry but this isn't going to be the most comfortable ride.” Tadashi escorted us to the back of the van, then reached past a spike and cranked a handle. The door swung open to reveal your basic bench seats lining the sidewalls and a steel ladder angled between them—a ladder being currently used by the rifleman on the roof. “We decided to take the van in case of human interference. We had to add a few extras for your protection.” He waved at the spikes.
“Won't the police try to stop us?” I asked as I climbed in. “What with your lookout waving a rifle around and the plethora of spikes on your vehicle?”
“The Police have hunkered down in their homes. They've abandoned the stations and no one is patrolling,” Tadashi reported. “Only civilians are on the streets and they've become volatile.” An explosion punctuated his words and he grimaced. “Brazilians are taking back their city but it's still in the revolution is still in its infancy. I'm sure you know all about clearing cities, Your Majesty.” He looked pointedly at Daxon. “It takes some time.”
“I do, as does my wife and the Twilight Prince,” Daxon said—he always gives credit where it's due. “They were both integral to freeing the Undergrounds.”
“Of course.” Tadashi bowed. “I meant no disrespect.”
“Maybe save all the small talk for later?” The guy on the roof called down through the hatch. “We've got incoming.”
We were already inside so Tadashi simply slammed the door shut and ran for the front while our guards took up positions at the back and kept watch out the grated windows. Within seconds, we were on the move. The sound of shouting grew louder but the guy on the ladder never had to fire. I suppose the mere sight of the vehicle and his weapon were enough to dissuade a confrontation.
“This is Fred,” Tadashi spoke through a barred window in the wall between the front seats and the back area.
“Hiya!” The driver waved a hand at us over his shoulder. “It's just my nickname. My name is actually Bietio.”
“Dare I ask?” I lifted a brow at Fred.
“Oh, I'm a Curupira.” He grinned as he ran a hand through his Ronald McDonald curls.
“I don't understand,” Raza whispered to me.
“I'm not sure either,” I whispered back.
“Flintstone,” Killian guessed. “Cause you have big feet and you're a driver, right?”
“You got it, Your Highness!” Fred confirmed.
Raza frowned deeper at me.
“Fred Flintstone is a cartoon character,” I explained. “He's a caveman with big feet which he uses to propel his car. I guess because Curupiras have backward feet—”
“Backward big feet,” Fred piped in.
“Backward big feet,” I amended, “and he drives, there's a connection. A loose one, but that's all you need for a nickname.”
“Cavemen did not have cars,” Raza declared as if I were unaware.
“I know, honey.” I patted his knee. “It's okay. Let it go.”
“It's a children's show, Your Majesty,” Fred was not one to give up easily. He jerked the vehicle to the left to avoid a group of rioters, then righted it before adding, “It's not supposed to make sense.”
“Ah, I see.” Raza nodded.
He didn't see. I'd explain it to him later.
“And I'm Jando,” the guy with the gun waved a hand down at us through the hatch.
Jando wasn't Sidhe either. Going by his features and dark skin, I guessed him to be a Duende. They're Portuguese Fairies who love hats and getting children lost. I don't know why. I mean, about the children. The hat thing is understandable; hats are awesome. Perhaps it's because Curupira are related to Goblins, and Goblins are fond of tricks. But then most fairies are fond of tricks. Well, whatever the reason, they can be real dicks when they want to.
“These are our knights: Sir Ainsley, Sir Gunther, and Sir Tybalt,” I introduced the men we'd brought with us and each man nodded as I gave their name.
Tybalt (from Raza's King's Guard) and Gunther (from Tiernan's) looked as if they'd been chosen to complement each other. Gunther had long blond hair while Tybalt's was black and both men were fair-skinned. Ainsley, who stood between them, looked perfectly placed. With his long, light brown hair, lightly tan skin, and blue eyes, he seemed a perfect medium to bridge the gap between the other men. Ainsley's pretty moderate in his manner too, usually good-natured and kind. He's the kind of guy who's hard not to like. Which is why I'd chosen him. A guy like that can come in handy during an uprising.
“I figured things would have improved by now,” Killian muttered as he leaned forward to peer through the barred window and out the windshield at the chaos of Rio's streets.
“More reports have been coming in about splinter groups associated with the criminal gangs,” Tadashi explained. “That thief of yours may not have hit all of the gangs, but he inspired the humans to finish what he started. Gangs like the Familia do Norte have been wiped out. The people are on a rampage. I don't think they're going to stop anytime soon.”
“You know about the thief?” I asked him.
“I warned the Undergrounds,” Daxon answered me for him. “That is to say, I notified the Princes and Princesses of the Undergrounds. I left sharing the news to their discretion.”
“And our prince discretely warned us,” Fred concluded. “Don't worry, he's only informed those who need to know.”
“I thought you were a driver?” Killian countered.
“Among other things.” Fred grinned at him over his shoulder.
“Watch out!” Tadashi jerked the wheel just in time to avoid hitting a group of people waving rifles in the air.
“Sorry.” Fred didn't seem sorry.
“Maybe you should concentrate on one task at a time,” Killian said dryly.
“It's all good. We're here.” Fred pulled us into a garage and a metal door rolled down as soon as we were inside.
Jando jumped down from the ladder and opened the backdoor for us. Our guards got out first to take a look around, then husbands got out and, finally, Tiernan helped me down. I know; I didn't need his help. but I'd grown accustomed to being treated like a queen and accepting help down a set of stairs is just another trivial idiocy that's become second nature to me.
“This way, Your Royalnesses,” Fred waved us after him toward the far wall.
Killian chuckled. “I like this guy and I'm so using that.”
“Oh, I'm full of all sorts of fun stuff,” Fred declared.
“You're full of something,” Tadashi muttered, his beak clicking on the last word.
“That too!” Fred grinned as he smacked a steel door.
Something shimmered beneath his hand. The shimmer rippled out and vanished. It was only then that Fred opened the door. We filed down a long set of stairs—two of our guards taking lead while the last took rear—to another door and another ward. This time, the ward took longer to withdraw, and even when it did and Fred opened the door, another obstacle presented itself. It's very large self.
The Troll blocking our way raised a club—the preferred weapon of Trolls everywhere—but then focused on Fred. His craggy face relaxed. “Oh,” he said gruffly as he lowered the club. “It's you.”
“Why the hell are you on door duty?” Fred asked indignantly as he brushed past the mountain of muscles.
The Troll glowered, his tusks jutting forward to make him look petulant. “Cause I'm big.”
“And I'm with him,” a woman stepped around the Troll. She was slim, fair, and stunning, with long hair braided back from her face to show off her pointed ears.
“You're a Light Elf,” I declared in surprise.
“That I am, Your Majesty.” She bowed and when she straightened, she swung back her blonde braid with a flick of her head. “I'm Jillian but you can call me Jill.”
“Why aren't you with
your people, Jill?” I asked. “Do you not know about the Elf village in Twilight?”
“I know about it. I choose to live here.” Her expression closed down.
“Oh okay. Not my business. Got it.”
Ainsley stepped forward with an expression that wasn't so friendly—a very un-Ainsley expression.
“No offense meant, Your Majesty,” Jillian held up a placating hand.
“None taken.” I glanced at Ainsley. “Stand down, Sir Ainsley. I can handle a conversation without your intimidation backing me.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Ainsley took a step back.
“I didn't mean to pry,” I returned to the conversation. “I just wanted to be sure you knew that you had a home with your people.”
“I don't. Not anymore, Queen Seren.” Jill brusquely ended the discussion by turning toward Tadashi. “He's in the Square.”
“How bad is it?” Tadashi asked.
“No bloodshed yet.”
“Better than expected.” Tadashi swept off his hat and shook back his hair, revealing a pair of exotic eyes and thick eyebrows over his butter-yellow beak. “Please, follow me, Your Majesties and Highness.”
Tadashi led us to the opposite end of the small room, his staff clicking on the floor as we passed a table crowded with food and an interrupted card game. There were three normal chairs and one very large chair gathered around the table. A rack of weapons stood against another wall but that was it as far as furnishings went. Then Tadashi opened a door and took us into the Brazil Underground.
Faux sunlight bathed a city of exotic homes in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Most were architectural miracles, draping parts of themselves over the wide, cobbled street. Polished stone palaces posed beside bubbled steel mansions. Towers reached toward the ceiling—several hundred feet above—and bridges arched beneath them. Fairies strode across those bridges and flew around them. But the most eye-catching aspect of the Underground was the flora. Plants grew everywhere. In enormous pots on the streets (which were only for pedestrian traffic), clinging to the sides of buildings, trailing from balconies, and scaling the cavern walls. The air had a comfortable humidity and a fresh, green scent. Except for the plants and high bridges, it was very similar to the other Undergrounds I've been to and it looked as if it had come as far as they had. There were no menacing alleys or litter or thugs hanging out in... Oh, wait. Scratch that last bit.
Fairies stood in groups or just lounged on the street, propped against rucksacks and staring at us with the cool look of people who don't give a shit. Other fairies gave them a wide berth, glaring at them with suspicion, wariness, or outright hatred. These non-thuggish fairies brightened when they spotted us and murmured greetings as they bowed. Several even started following us down the street.
“We're attracting an entourage,” I noted.
“Yeah.” Fred grimaced. “They know where we're headed.”
“Where is that exactly?” Daxon asked as he nodded to another bowing fairy.
“The Square,” Tadashi said. “It's a central courtyard with a stage we use to make announcements. If Prince Raul is there, it means he's still trying to reason with people.”
“That's a good thing,” Tiernan noted.
“Yes,” Tadashi agreed. “Better than the alternative. But I don't know how long he can talk circles around them. We'd best take the short cut.”
I lifted a brow at my men as Tadashi went up to a door and knocked crisply. The home was narrow comparatively—pressed between its neighbors like a man on the subway—and made of large stones like a castle. It, unlike most of the other homes, didn't have plants growing all over it. What it did have was a sign nailed to its front door. In big, hand-painted letters, it read: GO AWAY!
The door opened but no one was there.
“No!” a deep male voice grumbled.
I looked down toward the sound of the voice to see a Dwarf glaring up at Tadashi.
“Not again, Tad!” The Dwarf went on. “I told you the last time; my house is not a public thoroughfare. Just because it's the only house built wider rather than longer and it happens to extend from this street to that stupid Square, does not make it your personal short-cut!” He pointed a stubby finger at the sign on his door. “Can't you read?”
“Leo, this is King Daxon of the Fairy Undergrounds.” Tadashi waved a hand at Daxon, who nodded at the Dwarf.
“Great gravel!” The Dwarf gaped at Daxon.
“These are their Majesties: Queen Seren, King Raza, and King Tiernan,” Tadashi went on, waving at each of us. “And His Highness, Prince Killian of Twilight. They need to get to the Square as soon as possible.”
“It is imperative or we wouldn't ask,” Daxon added.
“Of course!” Leo exclaimed. “I'm happy to help, Your Majesty. Your Majesties. And uh, Your Highness. Please, right this way.”
The Dwarf waved us in, then ran ahead, pushing things out of our path—heavy things that looked deliberately placed to deter anyone who might want to walk straight from his front door to his back.
Leo kicked a trunk aside with a grunt, then opened the backdoor for us. “It's an honor to have you in my humble home.”
He bowed as we passed by.
“Thank you, Leo.” I laid a hand on Leo's shoulder, and he looked up at me with wide, adoring eyes.
“Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you so much for er, uh, gracing my home with your uh, grace and, uh, beauty and magical self.”
I smiled brightly at him and followed my men outside.
“Well done, Leo,” Tadashi said, managing to make it sound genuine as he pushed the snickering Fred and Jando past him. “You did yourself and your race proud.”
“Thanks, Tad.” Leo followed us to the edge of his garden but then ran back inside when he noticed our entourage coming in after us. “No! No! No! The rest of you can go around! Get out of my house!”
The Square was aptly named—a square space at the intersection of four streets. Strange buildings loomed around it, most of them trailing vines that bore fruit or flowers. Fairies congregated on precarious balconies, staring down at the stage in the center of the Square, and much more of them filled the Square itself. A smaller group of assorted fairies stood on the stage, most armed with weapons as well as magic. Before them stood a swarthy Sidhe with his arms out in a placating gesture. We started to head through the crowd that filled the Square, Tadashi politely tapping shoulders with his staff to ask people to move aside. But then the atmosphere suddenly shifted.
A group of men sauntered in from another street in a triangular formation. The guy at the top of the triangle pierced the crowd, opening a path for the rest, then led them to the base of the stage. Fairies pulled back from the men, who looked as if they'd seen their fair share of fighting—fighting, not battle. These men may have been soldiers once but now, they were just thugs. And they wore their bad attitudes like a shield. Perhaps they used to run these streets but now, they were scorned outcasts.
“This is not good,” Killian hissed and rushed past Fred.
The rest of us followed Kill's beeline for the Fey ruffians. Our guards tried to surround us, which was rather hard to do since we outnumbered them. As we pushed our way through the gathering—the people were too distracted by the thugs to notice who we were—the crowd turned on the newcomers.
It started with a potato, of all things. Someone launched the spud at the thug leader's head. It hit him right in his temple. He winced, then searched for the culprit in shocked horror. I would have been shocked too; who the hell carries potatoes in their pockets? But then I noticed the produce stands around the edges of the Square. This wasn't just a place to address the populace, it was also a marketplace—unfortunately for the hoodlums.
Other fairies took the potato-tosser's lead and started hurling vegetables at the unwanted men. They raised their arms over their heads and huddled under the assault, too shocked to even defend themselves. And that wasn't all that was hurled; obscenities flew through the air with the
produce. It was a very similar scene to the one we'd witnessed above ground but—thanks to the vegetable stalls—there was a lot less bloodshed. So, I suppose the thugs were lucky after all.
“That is enough!” The man on the podium shouted.
No one paid him any attention.
“I said enough!” The man, who I assumed was Prince Raul, was suddenly standing before the veggie-stricken fairies with a drawn sword. “Stand down this instant!”