Got Hope

by Michael Darling

  She had walked a full circle around me now. “Thou hast proposed a consequence for me if he dies a Halfling. What consequence to thee if he does not?”

  There was only one thing I could say that would lend sufficient weight to make my point.

  “If Ciaróg becomes a deamhan, I will help you destroy him.” I paused to take a breath. “And then I will embrace the Súilfirinne myself. The punishment for Ciaróg exceeds the crime and you are wrong, most-powerful queen, to subject him to the Judgment Stone.

  “I bet my life on it.”

  Chapter Thirty-One: Snake to the Jugular

  To the south, I heard gasps and a woman’s voice said, “No!”

  I listened to my heart pound in my ears. The Máithrín finished walking a circle around me again and then stopped to gaze up at me. “Didst thou just say I am wrong?”

  She’s going to kill me.

  “Yes,” I replied. The single syllable was a hoarse shadow of my voice.

  “Well, isn’t that nice.”

  A flicker of amusement flashed across her green eyes like sunlight catching the facets of emeralds. She spun away from me and walked down the bridge. She called to Urlabhraí. “Take the prisoner away. I still have questions about the Dubhcridhe.”

  Stunned silence pervaded the arena. Urlabhraí unfastened Ciaróg’s chain from the box and rattling, ringing sound echoed in the open space. The Máithrín waited for them at the bottom of the bridge. They walked toward her. Urlabhraí ignored me but Ciaróg glared at me with a mixture of confusion and anger.

  The Máithrín stopped them when they got to the bottom of the bridge. She waved her hands over Ciaróg’s skin. All his gashes and bruises vanished. He glared at me some more.

  You should be thanking me, bug boy.

  The Máithrín said. “I healed your wounds. Now there’s room to make new ones.”

  Or not.

  I had a feeling Ciaróg—Dumb himself—was going to hate me even more soon.

  The Máithrín smiled at me. I felt relieved and repulsed at the same time. “Well done, kinglet. Thou hast shown potential.” She went to sit on her throne of many faces.

  I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

  “Our little spat here shows thou wilt stand for what thou thinkest is right, even against a greater power. That requires courage, kinglet.” The Máithrín shifted her weight and put a finger to her mouth, biting the tip as she regarded me. “I like courage.”

  I had questions. Didn’t know how to ask them.

  The Máithrín sighed. “Thy father will be pleased. Thou hast passed his test.”

  The ground beneath me shifted sideways. My father’s test? Incredulity painted gray edges on my thoughts. “My father did this to us,” I said.

  The Máithrín thought I was asking a question. “Oh, yes. He asked if I would challenge thy resolve and proposed a scenario to see what thou wouldst do. I happily obliged. It has been a pleasure to play games with thee. Perhaps we can play again.”

  I nodded. I’d expected everything to be a game with the Máithrín. It stunned me to find out that my father was no different. He should be.

  The bridge seemed to have lengthened by a mile. Crossing back was a chore. At least I had Fáidh and Hope and Siorradh waiting. They beckoned with smiles and open arms and we embraced each other all at once.

  “Well done.”

  “I was so scared.”

  “Your father will be proud.”

  “We’re all proud.”

  Shaking my head, I said. “We got here together.”

  Rós lifted the edge of her hood to catch my eye and then in the same motion gave a quick salute. “I shall make a special arrow for thee,” she said. “One that will fly true.”

  Their words soothed my heart and the knot in the pit of my stomach began to ease. It lasted a few seconds. Then a few seconds more.

  Voices, speaking loudly, disrupted our reverie. I ignored the rising sound. I hoped the Máithrín would vanish now, just as she’d arrived. Instantly and completely. I was eager to gather our company and be on our way.

  Siorradh tapped me on the shoulder. “Goethe.”

  What now?

  A figure knelt at the Máithrín’s feet, arms raised in supplication. Words urgently spoken dashed back and forth in a jumble. Urlabhraí stood a couple of paces behind the person on the ground, arms folded tightly across his chest and a stern expression riveted to his face. The person on the ground pointed in our direction and then fell flat.

  More figures appeared. Each said something to the Máithrín, then pointed at me. Five, ten, twenty of them, all accusing me.

  Of what?

  When the Máithrín looked at me, my blood turned to ice. Her fingers weren’t dancing anymore. They were curled into fists. A silver fire had awakened behind her eyes and something very old and very angry passed beneath her skin.

  She gestured. Something grabbed the pit of my stomach and I felt a tingle. In the next instant, I was standing in the center of the bridge, the Súilfirinne’s silver case just behind me, face-to-face with a livid queen.

  “Is she dead?” Her hiss was harsh and violent enough that spittle trailed from her lip. She put a hand around my throat, a snake to the jugular.

  “Who?” It didn’t require much air for me to ask it.

  “Thou wouldst have known her as Sarah.”

  Sarah? Oh merciful—

  “Yes or no, prince?” Her hand tightened on my throat. I couldn’t move. Her hands glowed with blue power, her voice commanded me to answer. The edges of my vision acquired haphazard flashes and my knees started to fail.

  “There were several—”

  Her hand tightened again. The flashes bloomed.

  “I require only one word from thee. Anything else and I will snap thy neck. Is Sarah dead? Yes or no?”

  I coughed, “Yes.”

  “These people say she was killed with a gun. They saw thee pull the trigger. They all saw it. They’re telling the truth. I sense it. I’ll not allow thee to lie and shame thyself. Thou mayest lie to thy father but not to me. I made a promise to the Alder King and neither of us will bring dishonor upon our kingdoms this day.”

  My vision was a dazzling bright circle with a spot of clarity. I nodded, agreeing. The Máithrín let me go. My knees refused to hold me. I crashed to the bridge and heard the impact echo against the walls of the arena.

  “She was my daughter.” The Máithrín’s words fell quietly but I heard them. “My first child in sixty years. Her father will be devastated. How will I ever tell him?”

  I didn’t dare look at her. I heard the fragility in her voice. She was barely holding herself together and a single word from me might break her. That would the last word I would ever say, and I knew it.

  All I could do was breathe and listen.

  She rasped, “I named her Seoid, which means ‘one who is precious.’ She was a Halfling and she wanted to know about her father’s world. I would have kept her here. Kept her safe. But children must be allowed their own minds so I let her go. She went to die.”

  The Máithrín sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I’m told thou art protecting a mortal woman. That my Seoid would be alive if thou hadst valued Halflings more than mortals. Thou hast made a grave mistake. Never put the life of a mortal above our own. Now, get ye out of my kingdom. Once ye have departed the Fuilaseum, do not stop until ye are beyond my borders. I never wish to hear thy voice again. I never wish to see thy face again. Heed my words.”

  The Máithrín vanished.

  I saw more. More of the plan against me.

  Urlabhraí had played his hand well, taking the cards he needed before the deck was ever shuffled and dealt. He needed to get Hope out of the way to get Marcus’s money. He needed to recruit me or neutralize me to handicap my father, who had eradicated their predecessors.

  If Hope and I die in an explosion, his problems are solved.

  If Hope is disgraced with fake videos and I die as a swarm’s favorite chew toy, his
problems are solved.

  If Hope finds her way to the Behindbeyond and gets stuck here because I’m dishonored or dead, his problems are solved.

  By luck or by skill, we’ve wended our way down a crooked path to complete our mission. Now he’s played his ace in the hole. Dead Sarah. The Máithrín’s own daughter. Shot to death by someone wearing my face and reported by witnesses who only have to tell the truth.

  Those people weren’t all there. But they’ve seen the video. The video showing me shooting Sarah. She’d been wearing Hope’s face, but they all know who really died.

  The Máithrín had gone, along with her throne and almost her entire company. The Súilfirinne had been left behind as well.

  Thankfully, the Máithrín had abandoned the shiniest of the toys.

  Urlabhraí knelt beside the figure who had turned the Máithrín against me. The person who had played the pivotal role in the plot to make me the enemy of an entire kingdom.

  The figure stirred. Wearing a dark cloak, it was almost impossible to get a feeling for how they moved or if the person was tall or short or heavy or thin. As he finally struggled to his feet, he turned his head to look at me.

  The face was familiar.

  Oz.

  Oh, Oz.

  Why?

  Pressure roared between my temples. The sense of betrayal that came over me was immediate and intense. After all that happened, Oz, you tell the Máithrín that I shot Sarah? The only reason the shooter looked like me was because you gave him my face. I wanted to shout at him. He’d been so desperately torn when she’d been shot. He’d wanted to marry Sarah. He’d planned a life with her. Now he helped the people responsible for killing her?

  It made no sense.

  Oz stared at me. He opened his mouth as if to explain his reason for turning against me.

  Blood gushed over his lip. Streamed down his chin. His eyes lost their ability to focus. He stepped to the edge of the plateau and fell. Or was pushed. One of the pits in the ground was situated in front of the plateau and Oz dropped into it. There was a momentary flutter of his cloak and then he was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Of Fists and Flames

  Urlabhraí peered over the edge of the plateau.

  “A traitor’s work is never done,” I said. “Gotta make sure your witnesses don’t live to answer more questions than you want, right?”

  The anger rose in my chest. I wanted it. Oz wasn’t even going to get a decent burial. He may have betrayed us but he hadn’t been thinking straight. He deserved better treatment than rotting at the bottom of a pit.

  Urlabhraí turned his gray eyes to meet mine. “You are correct, Prince Luck. Why give a whole truth when part of a truth is more effective?”

  “Are you going to kill all the other witnesses?”

  Urlabhraí extended a hand toward the pit. “Only he knew the whole truth.”

  “She’ll find out. Sooner or later your queen will find out what you really are.”

  “The Máithrín will be quite preoccupied with the death of her daughter. She’ll remain distracted for a while. Long enough.”

  Tweedledumber—also known as Feithid—stepped out of the shadows. His hands flared blue and he started to weave a spell.

  “Tine!” I brought my hands up and twin missiles of fire flew at Tweedledumber’s head.

  Urlabhraí threw his magic at my fire. A gust of wind like a stray patch of hurricane slammed into the flames and pushed them harmlessly into a wall of rock. More wind swept into me and my fire snuffed out. I felt a force clamp down around my arms and hands, pinning them to my sides. I couldn’t move.

  Tweedledumber grinned. He started his spell again. I couldn’t think of a way to stop him. A rumbling column of rock lurched up from the arena floor and slammed into the exit on the west. The Asaliompair complained, moaning and backing away. Several members of the company shouted and caught the harnesses, trying to keep the beasts from hurting themselves or the smaller humans around them.

  Dumber raised more columns of rock to block the east and west exits as well, leaving the north exit as the only way out of the arena.

  It was done in seconds. They wanted us trapped here, forced to dig our way out or find a way to climb up the terraces to get home.

  It wasn’t over.

  “I’ll have to study up on Earth and Air magic,” I said.

  Urlabhraí laughed. “How fast do you learn?”

  “Not fast enough.” I could see where this was going. The knot tightening up in my gut offered its opinion too.

  “The Máithrín told us we could go. Let the others leave. Your problem is with me.”

  Urlabhraí shook his head. “You said it yourself. We need make sure the witnesses don’t live to answer more questions than we want.”

  “The Máithrín would object.”

  “The Máithrín is more than eighty leagues away, mourning her daughter. She will hear of the tragedy about to happen here like everyone else in our kingdom.”

  Urlabhraí seemed way too pleased. “I told you, you will serve us one way or another.”

  This was bad.

  Urlabhraí added, “When the kingdoms hear that you, the Halfling prince, have perished, it can only help our cause. Especially if it’s rumored that you were slaughtered by Eternals.” He waved his hand at Dumber, the gesture saying “Get on with it.”

  Dumber called his power again. Cracks broke the ground on the floor of the arena and a new column of stone thundered toward the stars. He pushed the pillar up a hundred feet high before he stopped the spell. He breathed deeply as if he’d accomplished something important. Urlabhraí’s hands flared next. The air shifted behind me as the Súilfirinne evaporated. It blinked into view at the top of Dumber’s new pillar of rock. Urlabhraí flicked his fingers again and I heard a scream that started on the plateau behind me and finished on the top of the pillar.

  Hope had been transported.

  Please no.

  Eyes wide, Hope looked down from the rock and screamed again. She backed away from the edge, bumping into the silver box of the Súilfirinne.

  “Stand still!” I shouted.

  She heard me. Her hands pressed against her chest, she froze. Her expression panicked.

  “Hope!”

  She nodded. It was a tiny motion, like she was afraid any movement would send her over the edge of the precipice.

  “What the hell are you up to, Ur?”

  “She’s insurance.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want you, little prince, to cooperate. So I’ll put the pretty mortal where she’ll keep you in line and she can keep an eye on your father’s little toy. Insurance.”

  I hated this. I hated him. “What do you want?”

  “Feithid has a request.”

  “Yeah? Look, if you want my autograph, just ask.”

  “I want to fight you,” Dumber said.

  Really?

  “All right. I took you down once, but I know some people like that kind of punishment.”

  “A fair fight. No magic, no shields, no sneaky friends. Just you and me.”

  He wanted a rematch. I’d been on the receiving end of a pummeling before. It hurts more than your body. It hurts your pride. It makes you question your value as a man and if you have what it takes to compete in the world. When you get beat, you want to come back and deliver some good old-fashioned payback.

  “I’ll fight fair if you do.”

  “I’m not a cheater.” He curled his lip at me like a dog. “Not like you.”

  “I took advantage of the situation. That’s not the same thing as cheating.”

  “Well then,” Dumber glanced at Hope as she hyperventilated on top of the rock, “I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

  “Release me, Ur.”

  I didn’t see Ur twitch, but the power that held me went away.

  I stretched the muscles in my arms. “I agree to no magic. But if either of us even starts to use any powers whatsoever all power
s go back on the table. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  “And nobody interferes or helps either of us, agreed?”

  “Agreed.” He was hungry for this.

  “And we both have to keep our poodle costumes on. If either one of us takes off the poodle costume, he instantly loses. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  Yeah. Too hungry.

  He blinked. “What?”

  “You brought your poodle costume, didn’t you? I don’t know how it works in the Behindbeyond, but you can’t have a proper fist fight without your poodle costume.”

  Dumber, Feithid the Bugboy, stared at me.

  “Sorry, Ur,” I said. “He doesn’t have a poodle costume. Let’s all go home.”

  Ur flicked his finger and Hope started sliding toward the edge of the pillar. She tried not to scream again but she couldn’t help herself.

  “All right!” I held up my hands. Ur dropped the spell. Hope took a step back again. She was trying to be brave but she was shaking so hard.

  She needs me to get through this.

  The overt Taoism would have to wait. I shoved my chin at bug boy. “Let’s go.”

  “Finally.” Feithid unbuttoned his shirt. I caught on. He wasn’t just showing off his muscles, which were impressive. He was showing me he had no talismans. I followed suit, except I had my shield medallion on its chain. I slipped it off over my head. Everything else I’d brought with me was locked in the trunk. Sir Siorradh stood ten feet away and I went to give him my medallion.

  He took it with a nod. I said, “Remember what our friend Robert Frost said?”

  “I do, sire.”

  Good.

  To Fáidh I said, “Be right back.”

  “Careful,” she replied.

  I walked back across the bridge and stopped in the middle, where I gave Feithid a stink eye and put my fists up like an 1890s gentleman pugilist.

  “You want to fight up there?” Dumber asked. “What if you fall?”

  “Up here everyone can see we’re fighting honest. You afraid?”