by M. C. Aquila
“Um, okay.” James’s smile widened. “I’ll be fine on my own!”
Alvey’s pale brows pulled together uncertainly. As she followed the Dryad back through the field and toward the forest, she called back, “Try not to wander off. And do not touch anything!”
Alvey was right. There must be a well nearby!
After examining the hill to his heart’s content, sketching and writing general observations in his notebook, James returned to the forest to find a shady spot to relax while he waited for Alvey to return. As he walked around, he heard a faint dripping sound beyond the rushing of the wide river.
He was suddenly thirsty, and as if the magic of the forest knew this, the sound grew louder, leading him deeper into the forest and to a circle of trees with a small opening, just large enough for him to squeeze through. There was a ground-level well in the twisting tree roots in the middle of the ring of trees.
As he leaned over the well to inspect the water, there was no debris of any kind floating in it, and even the few leaves drifting from the trees above completely avoided landing inside. The surface was as still and smooth as glass.
“Uh, she said it was safe to drink, so…,” James muttered to himself, crossing his fingers for good luck before cupping his hands into the cold, clear water. It was sweet and refreshing.
Is there anything here that isn’t completely wonderful and perfect? Even the prison was pretty comfortable. I guess.
Sitting on the ground with a satisfied sigh, James reached into his backpack and brought out the Unseelie Fae book for the first time since he arrived in the realm. He was searching for Cecil’s notes on faery water, on the differences between Seelie and Unseelie types, when a weak, screeching cry jolted him from thoughts.
The magpie’s feathers shone blue and green as it thrashed through the forest and into the circle of trees with James. It tumbled and writhed on the ground at the boy’s feet. There were feathers missing from its tail, and one of its eyes looked like a burst berry. Blood soaked the white feathers on its chest.
“Oh no,” James said instantly, feeling sorry for it. As he took a closer look at the bird, he recalled Alvey’s suggestion that it was an Unseelie familiar. It was no ordinary magpie—it was much larger than the typical English variety, its talons were barbed with many black, thornlike claws, and there was an undercoat of tiny black feathers wriggling like crawling worms.
“Look at you!” He gaped at the creature, awed and a little disgusted. “How did you get in the Summer Court, and why? Can you speak, or…?”
With a final croak, the bird’s head fell limp and its legs curled on its white belly. It was dead. James stared at the creature for a moment, then grabbed a handful of leaves from the forest floor and sprinkled it over the body. He scooted back from it, closer to the well, with his book in his hands.
“Okay, I’ll look for notes on familiars…,” he muttered to himself.
“What are you reading?” A voice with a clear, posh accent rang out right beside him, as if someone was sitting next to him. “It looks like an interesting book, if I do say so.”
Letting out a choked shout, James scrambled backward, his hand slipping on leaf litter, and toppled on his back away from the well. He gawked at the bird and then at the book in his hands.
Crawling on his hands and knees, he leaned over the well and looked into the dark water. Beyond his own face, his own wide eyes, was another face—pale and narrow—with gleaming golden eyes and a wide, smiling mouth.
“Cecil?” James exclaimed, blinking.
It was like looking through shadowy glass into a darkened room; though the details behind the face were hazy, Cecil was sitting in a bleak, dimly lit room. If the world were turned on its side just then, James, leaning over the well, could have been sitting directly across from him instead of looking down at him.
“Surprise!” Cecil chuckled. “I did not intend to startle you, but I was glad to catch you alone for a moment. How is my dear bird, Byron, anyway? I assume he found you, given that I could locate you to use a scrying spell.”
“This… this is scrying? Usually a mirror or a crystal ball is used, isn’t it? But the banshee in Neo-London used a bowl of water, so…” A smile slowly stretched across James’s face, then quickly faded as he glanced at the dead bird. “He was, uh, your familiar, wasn’t he?”
“Was?”
“Um, he’s kind of dead.”
Cecil waved his hand with a careless flourish. “Oh, he ought to return to us shortly, good as new.”
Just as James glanced over at the bird again, the pile of leaves on top of it collapsed, and dust swirled underneath it where the corpse once was. Moments later, a faint, irritated squawk sounded from inside the house beyond the reflection.
“Did you send him here?” the boy asked, frowning. “Did you send him to spy on us or the Summer Court?”
“I sent him to keep track of you.”
“Why?” James asked but continued with a huff, “Never mind. But, uh, the Dryads knew he was here and hunted him down. So they probably know you were spying, and if they caught him with me…” He trailed off, sweat blooming on the back of his neck, and he glanced around the quiet forest for any watching Dryads.
“Do not worry yourself, James,” Cecil said. “No one can listen in on our scrying—”
Just then, there was a sound like a door being swung open hard enough to strike the wall, and a high, thick Slavic voice called out, “Cecil, are you speaking to James? You promised you would tell me if—”
“Vera.” Cecil let out a long, exasperated sigh. “We have talked about this, darling. You cannot simply barge into my chambers unannounced, remember?”
A second face appeared behind Cecil, pushing him out of the way slightly, one with bright blue eyes and wheat-colored hair in a crown of braids on her head. Vera was a half Water spirit faery with empathic magic, a thrall, a fiddler, and Cecil’s adopted sister—most notably, she was very strange. James found himself smiling, amused as the siblings squabbled briefly. It was too easy to forget who they were and the Court they served.
Cecil shoved Vera out of the way with a cackle.
“Ow!” Vera rubbed her arm, coming into view again behind her brother. Then she smiled at James. “You’re in Cecil’s mirror. It’s quite funny to see you there. It’s like you’re right here in the manor with us.”
“Um, hello,” James said awkwardly, giving her a little wave.
The girl’s eyes were bright as she said, “You’re in the Summer Court, aren’t you? I hope you’re well and not hurt.”
“Uh…” His mouth fell open.
“Vera, pet, kindly remove yourself from my room,” Cecil said in a forced sweet tone. “Byron is in need of some attention.” Nodding, Vera scurried from the room. “And shut the door on your way out!”
A brief silence followed the slam of the door.
“How are you finding the Summer Court, James?” Cecil asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the mirror. “It is truly lovely, isn’t it?”
He nodded rapidly, making himself a little dizzy. “It’s… it’s amazing. There’s so much to see and experience. It’s a little overwhelming.”
With a knowing glint in his eyes, Cecil asked, “And how do you find the Noble Seelie Fae?”
“Well”—he shrugged, letting out a wry chuckle—“if you enjoy being called a thrall and being looked at like you’re the rubbish they forgot to take to the bin, then they’re great.”
Sighing, James continued, “Growing up in Neo-London, I saw how Seelie, Unseelie, and rogue faeries were treated by the Iron Guard. I felt bad for them. See, most of them had fled to the city after the Cataclysm because of the fallout, and when the Summer Court closed the barrier, the Seelies and rogue faeries were stranded.
“I always thought the Summer Court barrier couldn’t be opened, and that if it could be, the Noble Fae would see how the other faeries were treated and they would help.” Scoffing, he said, “But they’re n
ot so different from the Iron Guard, are they? They treat humans how the Iron Guard treats Fae. I dunno. I just thought they’d be… different.”
Cecil let out a sympathetic chuckle. “I often forget how young you are. Youth are naive, no matter how bright.” When James opened his mouth to retort, he corrected, “Intelligence and wisdom are quite different. You are very intelligent, but wisdom comes from age and experience.”
“What wisdom am I lacking?”
“You, like most young people, try to fit the world in your little boxes. Good and evil, right and wrong, black or white…” Cecil’s golden eyes glittered darkly, a smirk stretching his mouth. “I imagine you try to fit me in those same boxes. Quite difficult, isn’t it?”
James stared for a moment, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
Shaking his head, Cecil leaned back on his hands and made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Anyway, you mustn’t pay any feelings the Noble Fae bring out in you any mind,” he said. “Faeries like them do not see the world the way you or I do. When they look at a man, they look on the barest surface level, learning only what is logical and tangible.”
“What do you mean?”
“They do not see potential.” Cecil met his eyes intently. “If they could… Well, then they would see you as I do, and they would learn to treat you with respect. They would see your potential to become a great learner of magic.”
James glanced away from the reflection, ignoring the surge of pride filling his chest. “I-I do want to learn more magic so I can defend myself—”
“Excellent.”
“But first I need to free my mum from her contract, from being a thrall.” Determined, James met the creature’s eyes again. “You told me before that you could help me do it.”
Cecil rose to his feet, then with his hands clasped behind his back, paced about the room, seemingly lost in thought.
“Firstly,” he said after a moment, halting with his back to the mirror, “you will need to find an object with equal or greater magical weight to a faery contract, one that has a specific quality. I can think of one such item in the Summer Court you could use…”
“Well, what is it?” James let out a nervous yelp of a laugh.
“It’s a very old, very powerful hand mirror imbued with Light Magic.” He spoke dully, as if the words were rehearsed. “If you could procure this item for me, then I would gladly be able to sever the Winter Court’s contract with your dear mother.”
“How do I get it? Where would I find—?”
“You would have to steal it, I’m afraid. But”—it sounded like Cecil was smiling, though his face was not visible—“sacrifices need to be made sometimes, and all that.”
James felt hope drain out of him as his shoulders slumped. “Isn’t… isn’t there anything else I could do? Couldn’t you teach me to borrow some Light Magic and… and channel it into a crystal, like I did with the Fire Crystals?”
“There is no other way, James.” When Cecil turned back around, he was frowning. “I am truly sorry for that. But in the meantime, if you would like us to continue your lessons…” He trailed off, his eyes gleaming. “You can find me at any old well in this realm.”
“All right.”
“We’ll start tomorrow then.”
When Alvey returned, James asked her to take him somewhere he could find some supplies he needed for his experiments with magic.
“I’ll need crystals, and stuff with magic innately inside it.” James pushed her chair along through the forest, the terrain growing rockier as they went along the river. Her hand at her neck, Alvey fiddled with the crystal charm she had created. Earlier, she had sensed a torrent of Wind Magic sweeping through the forest and had directed them expertly away from it.
“You say you can’t use magic,” he said conversationally, “but you made that charm, and it works perfectly. It’s brilliant, actually.”
Alvey tilted her head toward him, the light filtering through the autumn-red canopy of leaves above them, casting her in a golden glow. “’Tis true, I am brilliant,” she said. “Yet what I have done is not magic. I merely found the correct elements in combination to enhance my Light elf senses already present.”
There was a lull in the conversation as they traveled through the woods. After clearing his throat, he asked, “So, um, how was your mum? She seemed upset today.”
She let out a small sigh. “She will be fine. Lest Deirdre’s presence overwhelm her again. I knew I should not have—” The half elf abruptly broke off, her mouth forming a thin line.
Though he sympathized with everyone involved, he couldn’t help but say, “It’s not fair for you to blame her—Deirdre, I mean. Think about how she must feel…”
“Now you are defending Deirdre?” Alvey huffed. “You have been positively frigid with her for days.”
James ducked his head, scratching at his face absently. “I-I know. But…”
I’m sorry about it. And I wish I could tell her that. I wish she’d understand why I did what I did, even if I’m sorry for hurting her. But I don’t even think she’d want to talk to me, would she?
The sky was dimming as evening approached, and soon the sound of a bubbling stream reached their ears, along with the earthy scent of mineral-rich water. In the woods was a clear stream several meters wide that flowed into the wide river. The whole area was a massive rock formation of mossy gray stone.
“This is a good place to find spare crystals,” Alvey said after instructing James to halt pushing her. “Water Magic, Earth Magic, and Fire Magic work together here. The Earth Magic and Fire Magic form crystals under the ground while the Water Magic can form crystals in the stream.”
“Under the ground?”
“Aye.” She nodded. “But we will not be going there. We will be waiting here and listening.”
“Listening for what?”
“The Mining faeries.” Alvey smiled as he gasped happily, and she brushed her blond hair behind her ears, no longer hiding her face. “They work under the ground, wielding magic to form the crystals, and then they pick and hammer the grown crystals from the rocks below.”
Reaching under her chair, she pulled a lever and lowered her seat so it was level with the ground. “If we are to listen to the Mining faeries, then we should be closer to the ground,” she said, lifting herself from her chair with her arms and situating herself on the ground expertly.
“Now what do we do?” he asked, grinning.
Without a word, Alvey lowered her ear to the ground so it was pressed against it. James did the same as her, and they were facing each other on the ground. He laughed at first, feeling a bit silly, and Alvey also giggled before shushing him.
“Just listen,” she said.
Closing his eyes, James concentrated on listening. He blocked out the trickling, rushing sound of the stream and focused on the ground beneath him, placing his palm flat against the stone slab. It was cold to the touch.
Under the ground were strange, musical, rhythmic sounds, all working together. There was a thumping, dull thud followed by many high, bell-like tings. Over and over, never missing a beat, the sounds went on deep under the ground.
“If you listen long enough, ’tis said your heartbeat will sync up with the drumming of the Mining faeries,” Alvey said. “I believe mine has already done so.”
When James opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but stare at Alvey’s face across from his. In the evening light, her skin glowed as smooth as marble.
Looking back at the ground, James shook his head, saying, “I-I don’t think you’re right about that. My heart is actually, uh, beating a lot faster.”
They both sat up. Scooting closer, Alvey reached up with no warning and pressed her hand against his chest, over his heart. He froze. “Hmm…,” she mused. “’Tis beating a lot faster. You are correct.”
“I guess…” After taking a deep breath, he continued in a calm, solid voice. “I guess it’s because I’m anxious.”
“Why are you anx
ious?”
“Because I want to kiss you.”
Now Alvey tensed, her face splotching with red. Tucking her hair behind her ears again, turning her face downward, she said, “You have my permission.”
After wiping his sweating palms discreetly on his knees, James leaned forward and hesitated before cupping her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. Then, closing his eyes, he tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips against hers. They were soft and warm.
The kiss only lasted a second before they both pulled away. Alvey ducked her head, but there was a flash of a smile on her face before her blond hair shielded her features from view. James couldn’t keep the grin from his face either. “You know, this really is the best day I’ve ever had.”
Chapter Nine
The Iron Guard battalions under General Callaghan’s control had set up a base near a town in the Lake District forests, a few miles from the barrier. The tanks, trucks of supplies and weapons, and squadrons of infantrymen were still arriving, and in a few days’ time, the Iron Infantry would be twenty-thousand strong, divided into five squadrons, broken further into four focused groups per squadron. And Boyd Prance had always imagined he would be part of it.
With Boyd commanding a squadron of his own, General Callaghan would lead the largest infantry of roughly ten thousand soldiers directly to the main entrance of the barrier while the others spread out to thin the Seelie forces. And when the Unseelie forces arrived to aid them—
Sounds like those bloody monsters are already here.
Boyd could not ignore the howls of the Unseelie hounds echoing through the valley, and neither could the other Iron Infantry. The soldiers present were restless as they awaited orders, moving their base closer to the barrier every day in preparation for war with the Summer Court. The howls and the frost put the soldiers on high alert and made them shiver.
But Boyd Prance did not shiver as he waited outside General Callaghan’s quarters, and he barely noticed the crying of the hounds over the pounding of blood in his ears. Even as the air grew colder, it did nothing to douse the burning fire building inside him since the attack at the festival.