She thought of Danu’s prophecy. Danu had always been adamant that Azar was the balance, whatever that meant, and had reiterated it to Jack so persistently that he’d come to New York to find her. When she’d gone treasure hunting the Great Weapons in the Amazon, she’d communed with the Goddess Danu for the first time. She’d seen herself sitting on a throne, a crown in one hand and a puppy in the other, two daggers strapped to her forearms.
She started a little as she realized that the prophecy was coming true. She was a Councilor now, which was kind of like a throne in the Djinn world. She had close ties with Aaron, and therefore the Were, which was the puppy in her hand. She didn’t think the Were would have joined forces with the Djinn if Azar hadn’t had that relationship with Aaron. Obviously, Nevyn was the golden crown, being the Heir to the Golden Throne, and he’d come with his own army. Azar had no idea what the daggers meant, but she was beginning to put credence in Danu’s prophecy. Maybe she was the balance. She’d been dismissive of the concept, but evidence was piling up.
A cold sweat broke out over her skin. The fate of the civilized world couldn’t rest on her shoulders. She was already weighed down with the lives that depended on her making good decisions; she couldn’t deal with the pressure of the future of humanity too.
“Az, are you okay? You’ve gone this grey color.”
She broke out of her reverie to see Cy and Oliver staring down at her with twin looks of concern. Oliver had his hands out, as if he was prepared to catch her if she should do something as unbadass as faint.
“Sorry, I’m fine. I’m just thinking.”
“Did you hear anything I said?” Oliver asked, concern still on his face. He seemed to be struggling with the need to wrap her in his arms again, if the curling of his fingers was anything to go by.
She smiled at him. “No, sorry. I was a million miles away. What were you saying?”
The mug felt hot between her palms, centering her to the here and now.
“I said I had the strangest dream about your Goddess last night.”
“Danu? How do you know it was Danu?” As far as she knew, no one but the Tuatha had seen Danu.
“Duh, she said ‘I am Danu’. It was such a vivid dream too. She came into my room and talked to me, but her face was so bright, I couldn’t see it, and she didn’t seem to be talking out loud, but it was more like a whispered white noise, like blood rushing in my ears. She said she admired my loyalty, my strength and that I was so full of life. Then, we uh, you know…”
She laughed. “Only you would have a dirty dream about a goddess, Oliver.” The way he’d described her had hit a little too close to the truth for comfort. But she couldn’t imagine Danu sneaking into Oliver’s bedroom for a little nookie, so it must have been just a simple dream. She’d spent too long with Bast, and had him walk in her dreams.
He flushed bright red, embarrassed. “It was the weirdest dream I’ve ever had.”
“I wouldn’t mention this to Jack or the Fae. They probably wouldn’t appreciate you debauching their Goddess, even in a dream,” Cy laughed.
Oliver looked affronted. “I’ll have you know, I’ve never debauched anyone. We make sweet love, and then I make them breakfast in the morning, if they aren’t a figment of my imagination.”
She laughed and wrapped an arm around Oliver’s waist, pulling him close. “You know I love you, right?”
Both men stopped laughing and stared.
“Not like that,” she said quickly, probably too quickly, and flushed. Liar, liar. Exactly like that, a little voice taunted in her mind, but she wasn’t ready to listen to it yet.
Oliver shook his head. “I knew what you meant.” His look said she wasn’t fooling him either, but he didn’t press her in front of her brother. “It’s just that in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never admitted affection for anyone,” he said, then quickly added. “I love you too, you know that.”
Azar stopped and thought. She told Bast she loved him all the time, but probably not out loud. Other than Cy, she wasn’t close enough to her new family to launch into soliloquies of love. When she’d been in hiding, she’d been isolated. She didn’t want to love anyone in case she’d had to run from her life again. Being found and forced into her servitude had been a blessing in its own way. There was so much love in her life now that it nudged at every corner of her heart and filled it with life. It filled up the empty parts of her soul with happiness and meaning, and she hadn’t even realized it.
“I see. Well, in that case, I’ll try and say it more often.” She turned to Cy. “I love you too, if that counts for anything. Your support, well, it means a lot to me.” Azar smiled at the two men opposite her. “Is it strange that in the middle of a war and with everything else going on, I am the happiest I’ve ever been?”
Cy hugged her shoulders. “No, finding happiness in the dark times is the most powerful weapon against any foe.”
Having checked on her little troupe of misfits inside the den, and reassured herself that they were healing well enough, she collected a wrapped bundle of clothes from her room and left the internal cave system. She’d left Oliver to watch Nevyn and Freya, and ensure they didn’t get up to too much mischief. Though she wouldn’t put it past Oliver to join the mischief rather than stopping it. He was still as playful as a kitten, even at his age.
Cy followed her out into the woods surrounding the mouth of the cave system. “Just out of interest, are you going to follow me everywhere for the remainder of the war?”
Cy just smiled and nodded, and Azar sighed. Being alone was now a distant memory. They needed this over and done with so she could have a little me-time again.
Her Fae, as she thought of them, had set up camp on the edge of the trees. She marveled at their campsite. Apart from a fire, you wouldn’t even know they were there. No tents, or even bed rolls. She looked up and realized why.
They slept in the trees, in cocoon-like hammocks, which were made of shifting green, browns and greys that made them hard to see with the naked eye. Lorcan jumped down from the branch he was sitting on, maybe fourteen feet in the air. He landed like a cat on the ground, his landing barely ruffling the undergrowth. It was pretty insane really.
She waved upwards at the rest of the Fae who still sat in the trees. “I still think this is a little crazy. What if you need to pee in the middle of the night? What if you sleepwalk? You’d go splat!”
Lorcan laughed. “It is safer in the trees. No one ever looks up. We are comfortable at great heights. Besides, going ‘splat’ as you say wouldn’t kill us. Hurt a little sure, but we would heal any physical wound quickly. Maybe not the wound to our pride, however.”
She eyed the trees, and shook her head. “Each to their own, I guess. Makes me glad that I have wings though.”
Lorcan nodded to Cy, and Cy nodded back. Macho greeting completed.
“Where’s Jack?”
“Communing with the Goddess.” A look of envy passed over Lorcan’s face. He adhered to the old faith, which worshipped the Tuatha Dé Danann and Danu herself above all, as the Giver of Life. Having felt the pure bliss that came from being in the presence of the Goddess, the envy was deserved. It was an experience unlike any other.
“We need to talk about what happened yesterday.”
Lorcan’s jaw firmed into granite. “We failed you.”
Azar gaped. “What? No! You all fought admirably. We were outnumbered two to one. The reason everyone isn’t dead is due to the efforts of you and your men. You have my sincerest gratitude.” She looked up to the Fae who were still in the trees. “All of you. I know a lot of you suffered your own injuries yesterday, and I want you to know that I appreciate and regret every drop of blood you shed in defending the cabin.”
Azar bowed low and deep, a courtly gesture that she knew would mean more to them than her words.
They all stood on the branches, perfectly balanced, and bowed low in return.
“You need not bow to us, Goddess, for performin
g our sacred duty.” That was the sticky part of their relationship; their worship didn’t sit well with her, but she let it go. They needed something to cling to in this time of uncertainty.
“That’s not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about the guy in the fancy clothes, and to ask Jack about this?” She waved the sword above her head like a flag.
It seemed important to know why he had a sword that couldn’t be melted by her flame, and probably find out what the heck it was made from.
Lorcan took a physical step backwards in shock. “Basatine.”
There was a whisper of shocked murmurs from the treetops.
She sighed. “Seriously, does every weapon need to be named?”
“It is a revered weapon in our world, thought to be lost.”
“There seems to be a lot of that going around these days. Lost weapons suddenly reappearing.”
Lorcan held out his hand, and she handed him the weapon. Although Cy tensed behind her, she wasn’t worried about Lorcan running her through with the weapon. If the Black Prince had wanted her dead, he could have killed her a thousand times over. He was stronger, faster, and more skilled than she was, and Azar could die from a normal old dagger to the heart as well as any mortal could. She was cursed with her near mortality.
“It was made by the same Fae weaponsmith as your Great Weapons, in a time long past. His name was Brandr, and he was as great a sorcerer as he was a weaponsmith. Each of his weapons were exquisitely made and the very fibers of the metal imbued with magical properties. That is why a single cut from Posidagi would have killed your consort if he hadn’t become incorporeal, but you could slice off your hand and it would be like cutting yourself with any other man-made dagger. It is why the Courts are searching for the Great Weapons; they wish to study them in recreate Brandr’s method, so as to equip their army with weapons that are made to kill the Djinn. It is magic long lost to the fog of time, and I doubt there are any left who are powerful enough to do it anyway, except perhaps young Nevyn. It was old magic, Goddess given magic, which the Fae have now forsaken.” He shook his head at the folly of his fellow Fae. He swung the blade in his hand, making it twirl and slice through the air as if it were an extension of his body.
“But Basatine wasn’t purposefully made for fighting against the Djinn. It was forged for an ancient king, and it is capable of killing any creature that walks, flies or slithers on this world and the next. It can cut through Fae glamour, and one side of the blade is dipped in iron, the other in silver. I cannot be broken. It cannot be melted by the flames of the fire demons, or Ifrit, which is why you could wield it in your full form. You have turned its strengths against it. It is a fine weapon for a Goddess.” He swung it back and forth in a graceful flow of arcs and jabs, and then handed it back to her, hilt first, the blade resting easily in the flat of his palm.
The hilt fit perfectly in Azar’s hand, like it wanted to be there. There was a sentience to the sword, and the thought made her want to drop it into the dirt. Instead, she ignored it and focused on Lorcan.
“It’s a pity that I can’t swing a sword to save my life. Why couldn’t Brandr not have created a magical six shooter?”
There was a laugh from behind me, and Jack came out of the woods.
“The sword will do most of the work. You only have to learn how not to drop it. Because whilst it is a good weapon in the hands of a fire-wielding Djinn, it is also a very efficient weapon against you. Hold your sword, even in the direst of situations. That is the first and most important lesson.”
Another Fae soldier dropped from the trees like a monkey, and handed Azar a leather sword sheath. Lorcan smiled and said something to the Fae man in old Gaelic. Not many of the Fae spoke English except Lorcan, and maybe three or four of the others, but they were picking up a few words here and there.
“This sheath straps across your back. It is better for concealing your weapon in these modern times. Just don’t cut your throat when drawing it. May I?”
Azar nodded, sliding the sword into the sheath and he began buckling across her body. A leather strap ran under her chest, and a thicker strap ran up between her breasts and over her shoulder, keeping the sheath firmly in place and angled so she could easily reach the hilt of her sword. The weight of the sword was spread across her back, giving her freedom to move.
“Well, it’s certainly a fashion statement, but boy does it do great things for my cleavage.”
Every set of eyes in the woods went to her boobs, and she cursed her big mouth. Cy let out a groan and rolled his eyes, but Lorcan and the Fae were still appreciating the view.
Jack cleared his throat. “Indeed. But I think we have more urgent matters to tend too than your ample, well defined bust.”
She flushed a shade of scarlet, but nodded. “I want to know about the Fae yesterday. Finley, the Rightful King blah blah blah.”
Azar knew the guy must have been a real winner when both Jack and Lorcan’s faces twisted in disgust.
“Finlay is an abomination. It was Finlay who ordered the death of Nevyn’s family. He turned the Seelie Court against them, and they were murdered by some of their closest allies. It is only luck that I recovered Nevyn in time. It was Finlay who whispered blasphemous things in the ears of the Unseelie Court, inciting my own mother to turn against the Goddess. I had to fight men that I grew up with, because of Finlay the Deceiver.” Lorcan spat on the ground, his face twisted in malice. Seeing the Black Prince of the Unseelie Fae angry made her glad that he was on their side.
“If we kill Finlay, will the Fae stop with their attempt at world domination?” Cy asked.
Jack shook his head sadly. “It has gone too far. The vast majority of Tuatha Dé Danann are dead, and we are untethered from the Emerald Isle. They are so drunk on their success, I doubt anything or anyone could stop them except at the point of a sword.”
“Lucky I have a good sword then.” She patted the sheath fondly. It was beginning to feel natural there. “Will you be okay fighting against your family, Lorcan?” She felt selfish that she’d never thought to ask. He’d given her everything, and she’d treated him and his army as a tool rather than living, breathing creatures with feelings.
“You have a sweet nature, Azar of the Ifrit, Child of Danu. But the Unseelie Fae are not like you and your family. We do not maintain close personal ties to our blood relations. We fight from birth for our place on the throne, and then if we gain it, we kill all those who try to take it from us. The fact that I survived childhood as a royal is almost completely due to a faction who wanted me to take the throne when I grew and therefore protected me, than any familial love. My men are my family now, and they stand beside me in this.” Lorcan’s face was proud as he gestured to the Fae in the trees.
It sounded like a very lonely existence, and Azar’s heart ached for all those lonely little Fae children who had never felt love. Maybe that’s why the majority of them were narcissistic and sociopathic enough to agree to the genocide of an entire race, and then world domination. They had no concept of love or honor. Except Lorcan. She hoped it wasn’t too late for Nevyn.
She wondered if she could hug someone called The Black Prince, but decided against it. Despite her newfound affection, most interactions involving close personal contact still gave her the heebie-jeebies. Probably best just to hope he could see the compassion on her face.
Azar looked up again at the Fae in the trees, sitting up there like Christmas ornaments. She didn’t even know most of their names, yet they’d be happy to lay down their lives for her. She believed that the Goddess planned her fate, and she was determined not to let the Goddess, or these Fae, down. But for the life of her, she couldn’t see the end game for them. Did they eradicate all the opposing Fae? That was the majority of Fae kind. That would be genocide, then she would be no better than the Fae themselves. She could only hope she survived long enough to think of an end game.
“If it is okay with both of you, I’d like you to come to the War Council t
omorrow.”
“Really, Azar? Don’t you think you should at least run that by the other Councilors, or at least Killian first?”
She shook her head at Cy. “What’s the point of being a Councilor if I can’t make any decisions without asking the Olds? Besides, who could argue with the fact that they are an invaluable strategic resource with firsthand knowledge of the enemy?”
Chapter 12
As it turns out Lila, Councilor for the Ghul, Major Pain in the Ass, could argue with the logic of bringing the allied Fae with her to a War Council.
“They shouldn’t be here. For all we know, they could be spies. Hell, they could be playing double agents. You can’t trust a single Fae because they will stab you in the back.”
“I give you my word, Mistress, that there is not a single traitor amongst my ranks. We stand with Azar, the Councilor for the Unbound.”
“Your word means nothing, Fae,” Lila spat. “The fact that you have aligned with that half-blood trash-“
“Now, now Lila, is that any way to speak about your fellow Councilor? Tsk. Maybe you need a lesson in Council etiquette,” Azar sniped back.
Killian rubbed around his temples. “Councilors, please. As Director of the Adel, I agree with the Councilor for the Unbound that the Fae would provide good intelligence. We’ll put it to a vote, very democratic like. But if we have to vote on everything, we may as well put the noose around our own necks.”
“Of course you would side with your sister, Killian.” Lila pouted prettily at him, and his jaw tensed fractionally.
“As the Director of the Adel, I am impartial. When I became Adel voluntarily, I made every race, and no race, my own. That goes for familial relationships. In this role, I am on the side of all Djinn.”
“Perhaps we need a new Director? Seeing how your sister and your ex-wife now preside on the Council. Before it was just your father, but now the ruling parties of the Djinn society seem to sway in favor of your family.”
The Azar Omnibus: The Complete Azar Trilogy (The Azar Trilogy Book 0) Page 56