He nodded. “The Unseelie Court is rising again. But why now?”
I sighed. “I’m pretty sure it’s because he has our baby.”
Sinjin looked perplexed. “Why would that matter?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea.”
TEN
BRYN
Luce, our old enemy, had tried to steal my baby because he wondered if the child might have powers. He’d enlisted the Fir Darrig to help—only an elder Fae of considerable power was able to steal a baby from within a mother’s womb. I didn’t know what powers Luce imagined the child of a vampire and an Elemental might have or why he thought it had any at all, but there it was.
Yet, the Darrig had betrayed Luce and kept the child for itself.
At the time, the Fir Darrig had claimed this was merely a whim, the sort of thing some Fae did for their own malicious amusement, and we’d all believed it, because it was very much within the Darrig’s character. But what if there was more to it?
What if the Fir Darrig knew that our child was powerful in some way and planned to use my baby as a rallying point around which to reassemble the Unseelie Court?
Centuries since, back when Odran’s ‘Daddy’ ruled, the original Unseelie Court had appeared and tried to wrest power from the Seelie. The Unseelie might have succeeded, owing to the fact that the Unseelie Court included some of the oldest, most powerful and most evil of the Fae. But the Unseelie Court ended up being the instrument of its own disaster; the members of the Unseelie Court, unable to go against their malign nature, ended up
betraying, back-stabbing and turning on each other, so the final fight was a bit of an anti-climax. If they were reforming, it might be too much to hope that they would make the same mistake twice.
And, of course, the question still remained: How could my child fit into this?
The question baffled me and banged at the insides of my skull as Sinjin and I walked back to rejoin the others. It was no point in going up against the Fir Darrig and his friends, without our own friends backing us. Strength in numbers...
As we returned, my thoughts were ripe with the question of what my baby was capable of. Yes, Sinjin was a Master Vampire and that came with some pretty kick-ass abilities, but nothing that would cause Luce to take the steps he had. I was an Elemental and a sensitive with my own type of magic, the Flame, but, again, I didn’t believe it was enough to make me so very special. It was true that when Daywalkers and Elementals had been bred, the hybrids that resulted were more than the sum of their parts, but it wouldn’t be enough to bring the Unseelie Court together.
What did a vampire and an Elemental get you? No one knew because it had never happened before. I was starting to wonder if the little girl who had spent all too short a time in my belly, and who I was now so desperate to meet, was more than I had anticipated.
“Welcome back!” Odran hailed us, loud enough to add avalanche to the dangers of the Ice Mountains. “Did ye find anything?”
“Did you see anyone come this way?” asked Sinjin, ignoring the question.
Odran shook his head. They had made camp away from the path and out of sight of it. It was perfectly possible that the creature, whatever it had been, had passed and not seen them nor they it.
“I thought I heard something,” said Klassje.
“Like maybe the footsteps of someone hopping barefoot with one foot?” I suggested.
Dureau laughed, but Odran looked concerned. “Barefoot hopping with one foot?”
“Yes. Does that mean something to you?” I demanded, not in the mood for jokes.
“Ah think perhaps ye had better tell oos what ye have seen,”
Odran said.
Sinjin gave a brisk and efficient account of the last two hours and I saw Odran nodding and becoming more concerned with every passing detail.
“The hag ye saw across the chasm wi th the Darrig… Ah cannae be sure without seein’ her for mahself, but it sounds like Black Annis.”
“Black Annis?” Dureau knew the name and his expression suggested this was not good news. I struggled to remember the last time we’d had any good news.
Odran nodded. “If our dear old Mathilda had had a mind towards evil, then Black Annis is how she might have ended oop.”
“Who is Black Annis?” I asked.
Odran looked at me. “She is a witch—powerful in her way, though limited too in some respects.”
“What respects?” I asked quickly ; a warrior always wants to know her opponent’s weaknesses.
“She is a cannibal,” said Odran, grimly. “The bone stick she carried with her is nae doubt from one o’ her victims. Ah have heard tell she bides in a castle constroocted o’ the bones o’ all the humans she has slain to feast oopon their flesh.”
“Gross,” added Klassje.
Odran faced her and nodded. “She is nae a cannibal by choice,” he began and then paused. “Although, Ah soospect she would be one by choice anyway, for Ah hear she loves the taste o’ mortal flesh.
Boot her powers come only from her food. If she doesnae dine on mortal flesh, her powers become weaker.” He paused again and looked as though he were caught up in his own thoughts. “She may have dined lately boot there are nae mortals in this region o’
Faery. We are on the fringes here an’ the nearest portal is a ways away. We may catch her weak if we are lucky.”
“When was the last time we were lucky?” muttered Dureau.
“But you do not know for certain that was Black Annis?” Sinjin confirmed.
“Aye, Ah’m quite sure,” Odran nodded. “A hag with a bone walkin’
stick? Aye, ‘tis Black Annis.”
“I think you’re right,” I agreed.
“Now the other creature with the single foot, as ye may imagine, is a rarer beastie an’ far easier to place. There is only one in Faery who fits that description.”
“I had a hunch,” I said.
“The Fachan,” Odran said and nodded as he looked at me. “The pair o’ ye had a narrow escape. The Fachan doesnae take prisoners. An’
it doesnae confine its eatin’ to mortals; vampire, Fae, Elemental, werewolf or whatever, it is an eatin’ machine.”
“Why has it only got one leg?” asked Klassje.
“A horse might ask why ye only have two,” countered Odran. “The beastie is the way it is an’ dinnae think for a moment that havin’ one leg slows it down, or that havin’ one arm makes it easier to escape. ‘Tis a rare an’ dangerous creature, an’ if it pins ye down, I wouldnae give mooch for yer chances.”
“Do you think the Fir Darrig is attempting to restore the Unseelie Court?” I asked.
He turned to look at Sinjin and then me. “Ah fear ye may be right, lass. The Darrig is tryin’ to reconvene the Oonseelie Court. If he is doin’ it now, it moost be because he thinks he has the advantage.”
“Having seen the Seelie Court in action,” said Sinjin, “I would agree with him.”
Odran hedged. “Ye didnae see them at their best. When it is themselves they are defending rather than yer child, they will be a more formidable adversary. It makes me sad to admit it, boot there it is, all the same. The Darrig wouldnae be takin’ sooch steps if he didnae think he has a clear advantage, an’ from the seems of it, that advantage may be yer wee bairn.”
“But why?” I asked.
Odran threw up his hands. “That, Ah cannae say.”
#
That night, I lay awake, as I had a few nights recently. When I
’d become unexpectedly pregnant, it had seemed a blessing, but now I was being forced to wonder what I’d brought into this world, or nearly brought into the world. Was it possible that my child was in some way cursed? Was it possible that she was in some way… evil?
Though he didn’t talk about his past, I knew that, back in the day, Sinjin had done some things that any objective observer would categorize as ‘evil’. He was a vampire; that was the way of things. He had learnt over the centuries to be a better man, t
o be a good man, to be a man worthy of happiness and of the love I had for him. But what would he have passed onto his child? Then there was me; raised in the ways of Luce. I too had learned to be better, but who was to say my child would inherit nothing from me but sweetness and light?
I suppose every parent-to-be worries ab out what their child will be, but not every parent’s child is kidnapped by an organization of malignant Fae, looking to wreak havoc. That was enough to keep anyone awake.
I wondered if Sinjin was awake too and having the same thoughts as me. Not so long ago, I would have felt able to ask. I longed to speak to him about this, and about what might happen tomorrow.
But I stayed silent, and so did he.
#
The next day dawned bright and clear, as had every day in the Ice Mountains. It sometimes seemed as if we were above the weather here, though snow lay everywhere. But in Faery snow didn’t have to fall to lie on the ground; cause and effect worked differently here.
“Ready?” Odran addressed us. “Right. Lead the way.”
Sinjin nodded and took the lead, up to the main path and then along in the direction we had gone the previous day. We passed the point where Sinjin and I had watched the Darrig and Black Annis. I pointed out where we’d hidden from the Fachan, and Odran identified the big, heavy footprints pounded into the ice by the creature. Following the route, we soon came to the black rock bridge that crossed the bottomless chasm.
“The Fachan hopped across that?” asked Klassje in disbelief.
“The beastie is quite used to bein’ on one leg,” Odran explained.
“It is as natural for the Fachan as two is for you. Give it an extra leg an’ it wouldnae know what to do with it.”
“Probably eat it,” muttered Dureau as he knelt to run his palm along the bridge. “Ice,” he said, standing again. “It’s slippery as hell.”
“Can you materialize across?” I asked Sinjin.
“In Faery?” He pulled a face. “I do not believe so.”
“Ah wouldnae try,” advised Odran. “Yer vampire tricks may not work here. An’ they may have some verra nasty consequences.”
“One at a time or all at once?” asked Dureau.
“All at once might be safer,” replied Odran. “Ah dinnae k now if we can be seen from Tor Clyd down here boot Ah wouldnae like to chance it.”
“Agreed.” Sinjin gave a curt nod. “I will go first.”
He glanced back at me as he stepped onto the bridge, and looking into his blue eyes made my heart skip as it always did. But it was only for an instant, as if we were both clinging to the tattered rags of what our relationship had once been. We both knew we were going into danger, and neither of us wanted things to end like this, but it was the way they were, and there certainly wasn’t time now to stop and talk things out.
Better not die then , I thought to myself.
Sometimes when I looked at Sinjin , it was as if I saw him through the eyes of another. To watch him now, as he strode out along that narrow bridge with firm, confident steps was like watching a hero or a Greek god. Knowing him as I did, I knew Sinjin had a well-developed sense of his own mortality, he didn’t think he was invincible, but he also didn’t let that mortality rule him. He wasn’t foolhardy, but he wore his courage like armor, it made him strong, and it made others follow him. And when it came to Sinjin, I would have followed him to the ends of the earth, because I trusted him that much.
Behind me, Odran picked his way gingerly—he was a man built for feats of strength, not balance or agility. Klassje was behind him, another vampire with her species’ confidence, even if she couldn’t wear it quite as a well as Sinjin did. Having seen his one-time rival walk across with such casual self-assurance, Dureau was always going to try to do the same. And he made a good job of it. The two of them were well-matched in so many ways, and I often thought that was why they struggled to get along.
“ Well , that was easy,” said Klassje. “Now what?”
“We climb up there.” I pointed to the black rock cliff, broken here and there with clinging sheet ice.
Klassje nodded. “I had to ask.”
This time we roped ourselves together. Dureau made a loop of one end of the rope and demonstrated a skill I had no idea he possessed by lassoing an outcrop of rock.
“Where did you learn to do that?” I asked.
He gave a half-smile. “There are many things you don’t know about me.”
I wondered at that. I felt like I knew Dureau pretty well, but maybe not?
Again it was Si njin who led the way, this time followed by Odran. They were the two strongest, so if anyone fell, they could attempt to anchor the weight of the falling bodies. Though it was a short distance, it was a long climb, as we struggled to find any purchase on the cold rock. Ice broke off beneath our feet,
fingers skidded in the snow and our numbed hands quickly became next to useless. I kept looking up to where Tor Clyd loomed above us. Every time I looked, I expected to see the Fir Darrig or one of his new allies looking out at us, leering down. But I saw no one. Which didn’t mean that we hadn’t been noticed.
The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that somewhere in that icy fortress was my child. A child I had never even seen. Would she recognize me? How could she? Did she now trust the Fir Darrig more than she might ever trust me? Would she scream when I picked her up? Would she even be a fully formed baby? I mean, she’d been taken from me before she was ever born so I wasn’t even sure what to expect.
They were not happy thoughts, but when you’re climbing an icy cliff, poised above oblivion, then you take whatever distraction you can get.
Finally, after what seemed an age, Sinjin crawled into the hole in the dark rock and turned to help Odran. The two of them then hauled the remainder of us up quickly, into the cool stillness of the cave.
I peered ahead. The cave was lined with ice and it seemed to reflect or perhaps to radiate light, illuminating a tunnel that ran upwards towards the heart of Tor Clyd.
“Let’s go.” For whatever reason, perhaps because we were now getting closer to my child, it now felt natural for me to take the lead, and Sinjin did nothing to stop me.
#
SINJIN
The long er I knew them both, the more the differences between my tempest and my queen stood out to me. They were sisters, physically similar save the color of their hair, and behaviorally similar in so many ways. Jolie was more the leader, but that was most likely due to circumstance; Jolie was Queen. Likewise, though Bryn was more the warrior, I had no doubt that Jolie would have been equally formidable in that regard had she the benefit (if one could call it that) of Bryn’s upbringing. But I had increasingly noticed the differences in them as Bryn and I grew closer, and I still noticed those differences now even as we grew further apart.
Jolie, as a queen should be, was a leader by consensus. She could give orders and they would be obeyed, but she preferred to rule in consort with her advisors, to have the authority of acquired wisdom. When Bryn wanted you to do something, she just told you.
She was sharper than Jolie, quicker than Jolie, probably more foolhardy, but that was because she relied on instinct. It was
interesting to note they were all things Bryn had accused me of, apparently unaware she shared the same defects, though I did not necessarily consider them to be defects.
Bryn was the warrior even when there was no one to fight. And when there was someone to fight, then God help them.
Now, she led the way up that icy passage, finding toeholds where she could, kicking them into the ice where she could not. Nothing would stand in her way, nothing would slow her in her pursuit of our child.
Perhaps she might not be the most traditional of mothers, but she was going to make one hell of a mum. It was hard for me to see her like this, and feel unable to go to her, to take her in my arms and tell her everything would all be alright because we were doing this together. We were doing this together, but when it was all over
… I could not give her false hope about a future I no longer believed in. Seeing what an estimable mother my hellion was going to make just underlined my own inadequacies as a parent.
The one thing I could do for this sprog , my daughter, was to save her from the Fir Darrig. After that, she would be better off in the loving embrace of the Kinloch Kirk community, while her unworthy father faded into the background, someplace where he would never harm her.
But first things first. I might have been an unworthy father. I might prove to be a lousy father. I had one foot out the door already. But no wretched Fae was going to harm my child, and any who tried would wind up with his blood on my fangs.
ELEVEN
SINJIN
“Something’s up ahead.” Bryn whispered sharply back to me and I passed the message down.
“Let me go first,” I responded.
In hindsight, it was a foolish thing to say to my Tempest, even had relations between us not been strained. The look Bryn shot back at me over her shoulder was colder than the ice through which we were crawling.
“I will manage.”
Warrior that she was, Bryn did not welcome any suggestion that she could not look after herself. I knew that, of course, but I was six hundred years old and men of my age sometimes forget that modern women can do things for themselves. I come from an era in which women were not allowed to own property, to vote and seemed
to have allergies to door handles—it was a hard mind-set to get out of.
“There’s something not right here,” I could hear the tension in Bryn’s voice.
“What is it?”
“I can’t… feel anything.”
“Mah hands are noomb too,” said Odran from behind me.
“No. I can’t feel anything,” Bryn stressed. “Something is up ahead but I can’t… sense it.”
“Perhaps it is something mindless,” I suggested.
“I should still be aware of it,” said Bryn, shaking her head. “No matter how tiny-brained a creature is, I still have some awareness of it, even if there are no actual thoughts. I can even sense you.”
The Lost Child Page 9