by Bill Hiatt
The other faerie royals, most of whom were powerful spell casters, had begun to recover from their initial shock and were marshaling their powers, some for defense and some for attack. Nicneven, Bres, and the witches might collectively be powerful, but it was hard to imagine they were more powerful than the faerie rulers who now faced them.
Nicneven should have fled when she had the chance. As long as her witches could cover her, she was relatively safe, but with their attention divided in several directions, I was able to start pouring fire at her more or less nonstop. By now Magnus and his fellow guards had reached the platform, though bursts of hellfire were keeping them back, at least until Magnus could increase the power of his defenses. Even from where I was, I could feel Vanora and Nurse Florence feeding Magnus more power. The Dagda was also nearly to the platform, and one stroke of his club would theoretically wipe out all of our enemies at once. We could be two or three minutes away from victory.
Then Tanaquill’s archers finally started shooting—at us. Her guards also moved to intercept anyone charging Nicneven on the ground. If I hadn’t been wearing dragon armor, the archers would have shot me from the sky. As it was, I only barely managed to land and make myself less of a target.
Perhaps Tanaquill had figured out she would have a hard time selling her innocent routine. Perhaps she was just crazy. Either way, we had now gone from facing a handful of very powerful spell casters to facing them—and an army.
Even the Dagda, confronted by a constant hail of arrows, had slowed his advance to use his club as a shield. The guard contingents each king or queen had brought to the wedding were now fighting like crazy against Tanaquill’s far more numerous guards. At least that delayed Tanaquill’s men from surrounding us, though I wasn’t sure how long we could avoid being trapped.
I couldn’t use my usual fire shield go-to defense well, because the people I would have wanted to protect were too spread out, to say nothing of the more panicked faeries sometimes pressing close enough to me to get burned. Vanora and Nurse Florence had managed to use the wind as a shield in Lady of the Lake style, but they, too, were trying to cover too wide an area on their own to get more than partial protection, and after a few minutes, even they would be exhausted.
With a smaller group, like my own guys, I would have tried power sharing, but the faerie rulers were too far apart and too unused to working with me for that to be a viable strategy on the spur of the moment.
Speaking of the guys, I could have used them right about now, but I had no idea where they were. When I didn’t spot them in the crowd, I figured my blood double must have manipulated the situation to keep them at Gwynn’s castle. I had to pray that was the reason they weren’t here. The other possibilities I couldn’t bring myself to think about.
More and more people were falling to arrows, and if something didn’t change fast, that would be all of us in a few minutes. I had to do something, but what? It was all I could do to keep myself alive.
I did my best to move closer to the Dagda again, still furiously deflecting arrows with his club.
“Taliesin, you were right about Gwynn,” he conceded, “and now we can all take that knowledge to the grave.”
I had never before heard him be that pessimistic. “Take heart, Majesty. We will find a way out.”
By now most of the guards on our side had fallen. They had taken a good number of Tanaquill’s with them, but not enough. Already defending ourselves from arrows and from magic, we would soon have to defend against swords as well.
Where was Tanaquill? She seemed to have meant to escape at first. Had she stayed behind to give her guards new orders, or was someone else in command? If she was still close enough, maybe I could get her men to back off.
I was already tiring, but the Dagda let me borrow a little of his power, and I probed the castle for her. She was still there, but deep inside, surrounded by guards, at least from what I could tell. I could never fight my way to her.
Of course, there might be another way.
I had hoped to threaten Tanaquill to get her guards called off. Maybe I could similarly use Nicneven to get the casters called off.
The problem with that idea was that Nicneven and her allies had switched to defense when Tanaquill’s forces intervened. Reaching Nicneven meant surviving hellfire, ice, and some kind of what I guessed was poisonous darkness by the feel of it. Various people, Magnus included, were trying to cut through these defenses, but so far without success.
I needed something to cause our enemies to lose focus.
“Majesty, throw your club at the platform!” I shouted.
“What?” asked the Dagda, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Platform collapse breaks their concentration,” I said, hoping that was enough explanation.
I might have tried White Hilt’s flame to accomplish the same thing, but the Dagda’s club was in a class all its own, like the thunderbolts of Zeus—and I should know, since I’d been Zeus for a little while.
“Why not? More than likely, we are all dead anyway,” said the Dagda, who threw his club with all his considerable might. It shattered the platform to splinters, sent the casters tumbling to the ground, and broke their concentration as thoroughly as I could possibly have hoped.
My allies were not slow to notice the casters were momentarily distracted. By the time I reached them, several others, including Magnus, Finvarra, and Manann, were close at hand. The Dagda was only one or two footsteps behind me.
Unfortunately, Tanaquill’s guards had cut through the last of the opposition and were now upon us. Once the Dagda had his club again, however, he was able to hold a much larger number at bay, for the club really could kill eight with one blow, just as the myths had claimed.
I grabbed Nicneven and put my flaming sword to her throat. “Get Tanaquill to call off the guards, or I will cut off your head.”
She gave me a defiant glance. “Do it, then.”
“He may not do it, but I will,” said Magnus, raising his sword as if to stab her. I could see in her eyes that she knew he meant it. She looked for magical help, but her witches and Bres had been subdued by others. The Dagda was keeping the guards at bay, and the archers seemed reluctant to shoot in our immediate area, though they were keeping up the barrage elsewhere.
“Oh, great Queen Tanaquill, call off your forces,” shouted Nicneven. “Have mercy upon me!” Since Tanaquill’s forces seemed to be on Nicneven’s side, it was an odd way to word her request. Tanaquill must have been observing developments in the courtyard, because her forces abruptly stopped attacking.
I had seen faerie justice operate often enough to be skeptical of its effectiveness, but nothing galvanized faerie rulers like an attack directed against them. In short order Nicneven, her witches, and Bres were in chains, ready to be taken to prison, where they would await what I was sure would be a much faster than usual trial. Not only that, but Tanaquill received the same treatment, despite her tearful protests of innocence. Those protests might have proved more effective if her own men had not attacked the faerie rulers for no reason.
“Who now will govern the English faeries?” asked the Dagda. Knowing him, he was hoping to be designated himself. As it was, the rulers voted to dismiss all charges against Titania and restore her to the throne.
I knew she was innocent, but strictly speaking, they didn’t have any evidence to refute the charges against her. However, with Nicneven’s obvious treachery revealed, I guessed it was easier to believe in Titania’s innocence.
“I have no doubt we will do the same with Oberon once we can find the real one,” Finvarra assured me. “You told us long ago that the one in prison was an impostor. We should have listened.”
I was pretty sure I still wouldn’t win any popularity contests among the faeries, but fighting side by side with me, and seeing me proved right on so many issues at once seemed to make those rulers who had been overtly hostile in the past far less so. Even diehard anti-Taliesin rulers like the Korrigan of Brittan
y managed a halfhearted smile in my direction. She should have done more than that, considering she would have been as dead as anybody else if I hadn’t been there to help, but I decided not to point any of that out to her. Why press my luck? She might not admit it, but she knew what happened every bit as well as I did—and I knew she would not soon forget it.
Needless to say, the Dagda couldn’t resist using the occasion to push for his election as high king of all the faeries. The recent mess gave him a more receptive audience. In the end, though, the rulers postponed the decision until their next regular meeting of the council. I could be wrong, but I was guessing they would agree on a high king at about the same time they started getting ski reports from Hell.
“What I do not understand is how Tanaquill’s men would so readily have accepted an order to fire upon the faerie kings and queens,” said the Dagda. “They had an obligation to obey orders from the princess regent, but how could they have followed such commands so readily?”
“Maybe they didn’t,” I suggested. “We don’t know when they got the orders. There seemed to be a delay between Tanaquill’s exit and the archers opening fire.”
“I have questioned some of the officers,” Finvarra told us. “Tanaquill told them that the courtyard was filled with clever impostors who sought to assassinate her.” I must have looked particularly skeptical, because he added, “The tale makes little sense to me, either, but remember they had just seen some strange sights. If Gwynn ap Nudd could turn out to be an impostor, why not everyone else? We shall let Titania sort out what is to be done with them. When a man cannot trust his own eyes, can we blame him for acting on the commands of his sovereign?”
“You raise a good point,” said Manann. “Every second that passes makes me more convinced we must find a way to prevent this strange spell that can fool even us from doing any further mischief.”
I started telling Manann and Finvarra about the counterspell, in the process attracting a much larger audience than I had intended. By the time I finished the explanation, the faerie monarchs were unanimous in wanting to be taught the counterspell. Each planned to find some way to incorporate that particular magic into the very stone from which his or her castle was built. Before long blood doubles would be a thing of the past, at least in Annwn.
We were still left with the problem of finding Gwynn and my friends. Under questioning, Tanaquill continued to protest her innocence and told Nicneven to remain silent. The normally cautious faerie rulers were all for extracting Gwynn’s whereabouts by torture, but I had a different idea.
“I know that some of you mistrust my ability to read minds, but I could extract the location of the captives by mental means without having to inflict pain to do it.”
“I have seen the proof of his power,” said Doirend.
“As have I,” added Finvarra.
“Such a power has no precedent in our law,” pointed out Arawn, still a naysayer where I was concerned.
“Lord Arawn, I do not ask you to change your law,” I said, trying to keep my irritation with him out of my voice. “Try them as you will. I ask only to retrieve from them the information that we need to find Gwynn ap Nudd and my loyal comrades.”
Since Gwynn had long ago replaced Arawn as ruler of the Welsh faeries, I wondered if perhaps he would prefer that Gwynn not be found. Whatever the former Welsh king might have desired, the other monarchs present were almost unanimous in giving me their blessing.
Nicneven stared at me, her eyes full of glacial hatred. I knew breaking through her resistance might take hours. Tanaquill, however, was another matter. In minutes I had cut through her relatively feeble resistance and pulled the information I needed out of her mind.
Oddly, everyone was hidden in a remote part of the dungeon in Gwynn’s castle. I would have thought Gwynn’s guards might have noticed, but after all, they didn’t realize anyone was missing, so they wouldn’t have been looking, and Gwynn had no prisoners at the moment, meaning there would have been no regular patrols in the dungeon.
“I should have known her sudden desire to negotiate was a trick,” said Gwynn, “but I was losing the war anyway, so I seemed to have little to lose from talking. I did not realize she had your impostor and Viviane’s as allies or that the two of them would ambush me during a private meeting.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, not sure what else to say.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Gwynn insisted. “If not for you…and the Dagda,” he added grudgingly, “Tanaquill would have succeeded in pretending to marry me, then convincingly faking my death—after which, no longer needing me for blood, she would have arranged my real death.”
“We all owe Taliesin much,” said Finvarra. “Till now, no one would have believed a mortal man could achieve such things.”
“I could have achieved none of it without a great deal of help,” I said, nodding to the Dagda, Nurse Florence, and Vanora. “Speaking of which, my friends—”
“Yes, Taliesin’s warriors must be freed at once,” agreed Gwynn.
Gwynn had merely been in a deep sleep. My guys were in a deep sleep, too, but reinforced by a ring Stan was wearing, which we couldn’t at first remove. It took Queen Mab’s expertise with sleep spells and Govannon’s skill with metalworking to finally remove both ring and spell. After that, it took a while for the guys to recover from the nightmares with which they had been saturated for hours and for me to get them up to speed on everything that had happened.
As we talked, I realized we were getting to the point where real life and dream—even sometimes nightmare—didn’t seem that different from each other anymore. Whether that state was good or bad, it was the way things were.
When finally everyone knew what he or she needed, we were all more than eager to go. Though a much shorter time had passed in our world than in Annwn and on Olympus, a lot could have happened to our families and our town while we were gone. However, we had one last bit of business to do first.
“Might I impose upon you all for one favor?” I asked the assembled kings and queens.
“Of course,” said Titania, who had joined us by now. “Ask whatever your heart desires.”
You would think she would have known better than to make such a broad offer.
“My…warriors have served me faithfully for many months, and they have helped you as well.”
“’Tis true,” said Gwynn. “They captured Tanaquill when I could not. They are a fine lot indeed.”
“They have one problem, though,” I said slowly. “They are unhappy having to lie to their parents about what they do.”
“You request…to reveal the secrets of Annwn to more mortals?” asked Arawn. “Do not enough know already? You have been warned that the number could not grow larger.”
I hoped someone would jump in and defend the idea, but the first response was deafening silence. “The parents can be bound by tynged never to reveal what they know to any outsider,” I finally replied.
“Even so, they could betray us by accident,” Arawn pointed out.
“It is a hard thing you ask,” the Korrigan added. “You know the need for secrecy. We have been indulgent in allowing you to bring so many mortals into your fold. When will these requests end?”
“This will be the last one,” I answered.
“Will it indeed?” she asked. “When your warriors marry, will they not want to tell their spouses? Their children? We are setting foot on a path to which I see no end.”
“If I may point out,” began Nurse Florence, “none of the mortals who already know have said a word to anyone. Many of you worried about Taliesin’s band members, who observed what happened last Samhain, in particular. Not a one of them betrayed Taliesin’s confidence, though.”
“How can we deny Taliesin this after what has happened?” asked Gwynn. Well, better a little late than never.
“As long as the parents of his men take the oath, I do not see a problem.”
“What if they will not?” asked Auberon, Obe
ron’s ill-tempered French cousin. “Mortals can often be contrary.”
I almost said “So can faeries,” but fortunately I kept my mouth shut.
“We can always reveal the truth but be prepared to erased the memories of that revelation if the parents look as if they are reacting badly,” Nurse Florence pointed out. “We can minimize the risk. Tal is an expert at exactly that kind of process, and Vanora and I have also had more than our share of experience in that kind of magic.”
“I am persuaded to let Taliesin try,” said Titania. “As the Ladies of the Lake point out, the revelation can be undone if problems arise.”
I had hoped for more enthusiastic backers, but I supposed I should be thankful to have any. Gwynn, Titania, Mab, and Doirend argued for my side, while several others argued against the idea, but less vehemently than they might have only days before. Given the near disaster I had helped avert, the faerie rulers seemed more self-conscious about denying me what I wanted.
That said, though the tide moved sluggishly, it did seem to be moving against me, until the Dagda caught me by surprise.
“Taliesin and his men defeated Nicneven once before,” he reminded the assembled faeries, “destroying a considerable army in the process. Then Taliesin helped me defeat her again. Do I have to explain what might have happened without his intervention?
“Also, you all worry much about keeping our secrets, and so you should, but you all remember how careless Ceridwen was in meddling in the mortal world. Taliesin put a stop to that. And Nicneven? She sent hundreds of faeries and witches into an area thick with mortals to get Taliesin and his men.”
“I myself stopped her from sending an army of the dead into a human community,” added Gwynn.
“If the truth be told,” the Dagda continued, “Taliesin’s foes have put our secrets far more in jeopardy than he has. In any case, we owe him much, and he asks but little. Other mortals might have demanded their weight in gold thrice over—and gotten it.”
I had to appreciate the Dagda’s willingness to take my side, though a polite neutrality might have served his political purposes better.