by Cory Huff
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One - Liam
Chapter Two - Aidan
Chapter Three - Nia
Chapter Four - Cùmhnantach
Chapter Five - The Spirits
Chapter Six - Invisible Becomes Visible
Chapter Seven - Death
Chapter Eight - Hidden Atania
Chapter Nine - Aidan's Second Miracle
Chapter Ten - Friends in Need
Chapter Eleven - Fire
Chapter Twelve - Epilogue
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AN ARGUMENT OF FAIRIES
cory huff
Copyright © 2018 cory huff
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN-13:
To the hidden faeries of the world. May you be brave enough to make friends.
CHAPTER ONE
Liam
“Goblins like children. They taste like chicken,” Aaron laughed as the little children looked at him with terrified faces. “They’re going to eat you and dip their caps in your blood!” Several of them started crying. One tiny brave soul with a messy shock of blond hair shouted in his tiny high pitched voice, “They won’t really eat us. Our dads will protect us!”
“Oh, no,” Aaron started in again. Twenty years old, tall and thick-set, with dark brown hair cropped in a bowl-cut. His eyes were a little askew, not quite pointing the same direction. His skin was pale like most Atanians, and he had a nasty habit of picking at moles, leaving little scabs and scars all over his body. He had picked on the neighborhood children ever since he had hit his growth spurt. He used his size to loom. “They’ll come into your house at night and steal you away while your parents sleep, leaving a changeling baby in your bed, and your parents will never miss you.”
Fairy tales are not for children, thought Liam as he walked by, overhearing Aaron scaring the neighborhood flock of children again. That’s horrifying. They had been playing outside his shop when he came back with a huge bundle of cured cow hides. He wished Aaron wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t nice, and it was distracting while he was trying to work.
Liam dropped his bundle of hides to the ground with a grunt and a sigh of relief. He was used to the work, but it didn’t change the fact that carrying all of those skins back to his tannery was heavy work. Hot too, in the Summer.
He stood erect, stretching his sinewy body and felt his back crackle. I’m not a little child anymore he thought, ruefully. He was 31. He cut his hair short to hide his growing bald spot and premature grey hairs. He walked toward the large wooden tub where his older hides were soaking, softening. The smell horrified visitors, which is why he rarely had any, but it never bothered him anymore. He stirred the tub with a large wooden paddle, moving the heavy, sodden hides around to check on them. He added a scoop of lime powder to the tub to continue the de-hairing process.
Liam then moved on to the drying lines, the sound of the screaming children receding to background noise. The lines were hanging in the open sun, lifted up to the top of the work yard. He grabbed the first hide, bending the leather to investigate its suppleness. He walked around the drying leather nodding. This first piece would probably make a high quality satchel, once he had tawed, oiled, and worked it for a few more hours. As he came out from behind the drying lines, he stopped.
He was startled to see Aaron sitting just inside the gate, mocking grin on his face, laughing at the exertion showing on Liam’s reddened face, and making a show of holding his nose.
“Why is Aaron here?” thought Liam. Aaron didn’t just like to bother the children. He liked to bother Liam as well, probably because Liam mostly didn’t say anything to anyone in the neighborhood about much of anything. Liam’s hand tightened on his wooden paddle.
Aaron was about the same height as Liam and his natural girth was augmented by thick shoulders earned from his time working with Lem, the big smith. Aaron hadn’t finished his apprenticeship. Lem had thrown him out after putting up with him for several years. Liam was unclear about the details because it was none of his business. But he thought that there had been something inappropriate between Aaron and Lem’s daughter, the lovely Emma.
Normally someone who had gotten in the kind of trouble Aaron had been in moved to a different part of Atania. But Aaron was still here. Liam wasn’t sure why. Nobody in the neighborhood liked him. Everyone else in this part of town had a trade. Honest work for honest pay. Nobody was really sure what Aaron did, but everyone was pretty sure that however Aaron made his living now went beyond the innocent labor jobs that he did on occasion.
As Aaron stood up and walked over, Liam was reminded that those labor jobs obviously allowed Aaron to maintain something similar to that blacksmith’s physique that he had built up as a teenager. He was intimidating. Aaron stood eye to eye with Liam, maintaining eye contact, just a foot or so away, with that mocking grin still on his face. He held that stare for a long, uncomfortable moment. What was going on?
“I hear things are going well?” asked Aaron, still holding his nose. There was an odd tone in his voice. Almost accusatory.
“Things are fine, Aaron,” replied Liam, quietly.
“Great. Glad to hear it.” Aaron looked around the tannery, seemingly noting the high quality, if not expensive, tools, tubs, and other equipment of a moderately successful tanner. “I’m sure you’ve heard that the Pearsons are putting together a group to investigate the Happenings?”
Liam immediately went cold, and started sweating. He had heard about that. The Pearsons were brothers in their thirties who were constantly talking about the Happenings like they were real events instead of fairy tales and ghost stories made up to scare children. Brownies curdled the milk of those who didn’t leave out food for them. Pukkas replaced the family dog and ate the children. Failure to pay homage to the water spirits resulted in still births. Horrific creatures. Flashing lights. The stories never ended for the Pearsons, and their friend Aaron, but as far as Liam could tell they were just stories used to scare children.
But some people insisted that the faeries, collectively known as the Sidhe, were real. Some people honored and worshipped the Sidhe directly by leaving out little bits of food and drink, claimed their milk was never curdled. Some people even had little altars where they kept candles and offerings, and taught their children to do the same. Liam mostly kept to himself. He lived an uncomplicated life. He didn’t make offerings and didn’t tell others what they should believe. Especially when it came to the Happenings, Liam didn’t want anything to do with those discussions, and he definitely didn’t feel a need to share his own experiences. He swallowed nervously.
Hoping to deflect what he thought was about to happen, Liam looked down and spoke softly. “Did the Elder’s Council assign the Pearsons to look into it?”
Aaron’s grin changed. He seemed confused for a moment. “No,” he said through his pinched nose. “The Council said that they’re taking the matter under advisement. The Pearsons have decided to become proactive. Ever since John Pearson’s wife …” Aaron trailed off awkwardly.
Liam knew what he meant. Ever since John’s wife, Amanda, had birthed a stillborn son. Liam wasn’t sure how many little ones they already had, but it was a big family. It was Amanda’s first stillbirth. Liam didn’t know much about birthing. He was fairly certain that sometimes stillbirths just happened. But he’d also heard that John had raged on about darkness in their house and an infernal creature making its appearance at the moment of birth. Liam didn’t want to know more.
Liam had his own suspicions. But he hadn’t shared them with anyone.
“Perhaps it would be a good idea to wait for the Council to make a rec
ommendation?” asked Liam, his voice still soft.
“Nah. Those old men are going to talk it to death. The Happenings is happening, and people are scared. The Pearsons took a vote with the neighbors and it was decided that they would look into it themselves.”
Based on how aggressive John and his brother were, Liam was sure he knew how that “vote” had gone down. Everyone probably said yes to shut them up.
“Everyone agreed to contribute too. Since we’s all gotta spend our time investigating, everyone’s agreed to help us out. So, what can I put you down for?” He leaned in as he said this, intimidatingly close, still holding his nose.
Liam was scared, but not for himself. He was scared because when Aaron leaned in like that, Liam felt something stir inside himself. Something dangerous. Liam backed up a step or two, to give himself some room. To give Aaron some room.
Aaron seemed to take this as an invitation to elaborate. He grinned like a predator who scents a wounded animal. He looked over at the worktable where Liam’s finished wares sat. “You’re doing so well, you probably wouldn’t miss a solid set of leather boots or a pack. Maybe both?” Aaron stepped over to the table and ran his fingers over a new set of boots. “I’ll just take these. I’m sure you won’t mind when we get to the bottom of the Happenings.”
Liam didn’t say anything. He was concentrating on that thing that lurked inside his breast. It was definitely awake now. He was doing his best to slow down his heart beat. His heart always beat wildly when he was in awkward social situations. He had learned that he wasn’t good at situations where he needed to assert himself. He came across as weak and easily pushed. It had happened over and over again while he was growing up. His father had tried to teach him to stand up for himself, but Liam’s gentle nature was to run away first, to give in. He gravitated to the quiet work of making leather. It meant he didn’t have to herd animals or haggle like a shop keeper.
Liam was out of his element here. He knew he was being bullied. He didn’t want to give away his hard work to Aaron. He knew that he should say no. But he couldn’t bring himself to create that kind of conflict. It would aggravate this thing inside of him.
He looked down at the ground.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Great. We’re really gonna find out what’s happened.”
Liam shrugged his shoulders again.
Aaron bumped Liam’s shoulder with his own shoulder while walking out. It was hard enough to knock Liam to the ground. Liam heard the thud of the gate close.
Liam took a great, shuddering breath. He realized he was trembling. How long he’d been sitting there on the ground he was unsure. The thing inside of him was raging, wanting to hurt Aaron. He closed his eyes tightly, felt a single tear roll down his face. He would not let it out. Again.
He heard the gate a second time.
He looked up. Nobody there.
He took another deep breath, letting it out slowly, struggling to maintain control, but knowing he was right on the edge.
The gate rattled a third time. So did the rest of the fence and the wall in the work yard. Dust drifted down from the ceiling. He saw ripples in the lime tub.
No. Not again. Liam thought.
The chair in front of him was drifting just off of the ground. So was the table. The leather scraps he’d been working on were suspended in the air just above the table. The ends of the leather sheets on the drying line were lifting up, like an invisible giant had lifted them up to peek under them.
Liam held his breath, silently willing this Happening to stop. Just like he had all of the others, he silently denied what he was seeing, even though he couldn’t deny it.
The trembling grew worse. His heart was hammering not only in his chest, but also in his head. He was seeing red from holding his breath. The lack of oxygen was becoming like fire, but he could no longer open his mouth to gasp for breath.
It was a Happening. Again.
He knew what would happen next. He thought he heard himself gasp with relief as his vision collapsed to a narrow pinpoint and he passed out.
The black-cowled figure traced the lines scratched into the cold, grey, stone archway standing in the ground. Its long, pale, slender fingers, the only part of it not wrapped in protective black cloth, felt the frigid air and nearly froze to the stone. It was cold here at sundown, in the hazy Great Waste.
The figure waited, wisps of black smoke-like power wafting away from its robe. It was sure it had felt something. Again. A momentary surge in the Ogham. Brief, and strong. The Ogham were the paths of power throughout the planet, carrying the energy of this world, not unlike the arteries of a man’s body. The Cumhneantach knew how to tap the lines of this carved language of power to do what was necessary to accomplish their goals. Someone was accessing a lot of power right now.
There would be a reckoning. The Cumhneantach didn’t use that much power without discussing it in advance. It could be an emergency. No matter how careful they all were, sometimes a hungry bear attacked a member of their circle traveling in the woods, like had happened some months back. Members of the Cumhneantach were allowed to defend themselves with their hard-earned powers. That didn’t violate the covenant. As long as there was a good explanation. But this was a lot of power, all in a big surge. Enough to destroy a bear certainly. More than enough.
Sometimes things more terrifying than bears attacked.
The figure paused for a long moment, remembering creatures out of nightmares. The figure remembered battlefields littered with the dead broken by the power of the Ogham. It shuddered and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Yes, sometimes the truly terrifying leapt from the realm of imagination into reality.
It glanced over its shoulder to look at the grey stone arch behind him. The arch was made of hard granite, perfectly stacked in successively smaller stones, leaning in to meet at the capstone. The figure could see through the arch right now. The dusty haze of the Great Waste swirled into the fading sunlight. The vivid reds looked like a series of angry slashes across the sky, softened at their edges by the haze, bleeding into one another and settling on the jagged Dragonspine mountains in the distance.
The arch was carved deeply with lines. Lines of language, meaning, and power. A central groove ran the length of the arch, broken up by perpendicular lines. The perpendicular lines were set in groups numbering from one to four, some of them on one side of central groove, some on the other, and some actually crossing the groove. A few of the crossing lines went at diagonal angles. Together, they spelled out the names of places, and beings, in a language forgotten by this world. The lines were carved deeply enough that the light turned each line into a dark recess. Tracing the lines, the figure’s frigid fingers were suddenly warmed, a sure sign that some one was drawing power . The heat quickly grew intense, then cut off quickly.
It waited.
Nothing.
Whatever it had been had likely ended violently.
The figure had an impression of where the Ogham had been accessed. Far to the South and West, beyond the Dragonspine mountain, Dragonshome peak, the Hartland Forest, and the Thir, where the wandering tribes lived. The city of Atania was that direction.
The figure abruptly turned and lifted its hand toward the arch. Its eyes narrowed and breath slowed in concentration. Its fingers moved in a precise pattern corresponding with the slashes on the stone. Images of weeping willow, stolid oak, and sweet pine flashed through its mind in quick succession. A new light began to softly glow, originating from the lines carved into the stones. The air inside the arch shimmered, and a new image began to replace the nearly set sun. A cave, deep underground, lit only by a single flickering torch.
The figure stepped through the archway, into the cave. As it walked a single step beyond the archway, the image faded and the the glow of the lines subsided.
Inside the archway, the dust faded to darkness as the sun finished setting.
CHAPTER TWO
Aidan
As th
e sun rose into the mid-morning sky, Aidan watched the men train from the wall. He felt like he cut a striking figure, feet set widely, hands on hips in a power pose, the brilliant Summer sun shone down over his left shoulder, silhouetting him so that even if the warriors looked up, they wouldn’t see his face, but an inspiring black silhouette. Even without seeing his face, they would know who he was by his stance. He struck quite the impressive sight with his cape flying in the breeze.
“Hey boy, get off that wall, we’re not finished with it yet!” yelled one of the brick layers.
Aidan started and looked down to see one of the brick layers striding toward him, visibly angry that some snot might ruin his unfinished work.
The warriors in the church yard glanced over to see what the brick layer was yelling at. They grinned when they saw Aidan, another young aspirant watching the new Knights of the Church of the Creator train.
Aidan really tried to get down without knocking off any of the stacked red clay bricks, but the not yet hardened mortar slid with his weight. The top half of the wall collapsed forward. On instinct, Aidan crouched, then tucked his head and threw his weight forward, turning a somersault as he hit the ground and rolled to his feet. He turned around and watched the rest of the bricks fall.
He made eye contact with the bricklayer. The bricklayer hesitated for a moment, surprise, frustration, and anger quickly passing in succession over his face. Settling on angry, his beefy face turned red, a vein popped out in his neck, and he took a breath as he stepped toward Aidan, pointing his big finger at him, “you’re going to pay for that wall.”
Aidan, at just 16 years old, was rail-thin and just a touch over five feet tall. He was no match for the brick layer and he knew it. He bolted, running directly away from the brick layer - and directly into the mail-clad chest of one of the warriors, who immediately grabbed Aidan’s arm in an iron grip with hands that were calloused from years of wielding a sword.