The Faerie Guardian & The Faerie Prince

by Rachel Morgan

  “This way,” I tell Nate, feeling myself drawn forward. We walk in silence. We pass other tunnels that break off to the left and right. Sometimes we come to a fork of two or three paths, or a T-shape, where we have to choose to go left or right. The occasional crevice has been dug into the wall, like a bus stop for whatever magical traffic comes down these tunnels. It could be horribly confusing, but I keep hold of Angelica’s book, sending my mind out every few minutes, just for a second, to determine the direction we should go in.

  I remain on edge, alert for the slightest sound or movement, my mind ready to call to whatever weapon I might need. But when a sound eventually does come, it creeps up slowly. It whispers in the distance, too faint to be recognizable. I can hear it gathering in strength, though, gradually becoming louder.

  “What is that?” Nate whispers.

  I can’t tell. It’s like a forest of leaves being attacked by a stormy gale. A rushing sound, like … “Water?” I say. I send the light behind us, lifting it higher and increasing its intensity. The rushing sound is getting louder. And louder.

  And then I see it. A wall of water tumbling toward us with terrifying speed. “Run!” I shout, pulling Nate after me. But there’s no way we can outrun this flood. It will overtake us in a matter of seconds, drowning us like rats in a sewer. I skid to a halt beside a crevice, catching Nate’s arm before he can run past me. I shove him into the small space, squeeze my body in beside his, and throw up an invisible shield. My mind flits around the edges, making sure it completely seals us in. A heartbeat later the wall of water tears past us. I can feel it pressing against the shield, but I’m strong enough to hold it back.

  Nate slides down to the floor and draws his knees up close to his body. I let my hands drop. I can hold the shield in place with my mind as long as I don’t lose concentration. With my knees pulled tightly against my chest, I can just fit myself into the tiny space left on the floor. My hair falls forward over my shoulders, and I loop it behind my ears. The ribbon Filigree gave me must have fallen out.

  “Well done,” Nate says, resting a hand on my knee. “Is that force field thing going to hold?”

  “Yes. Well, unless the flood carries on for hours and hours. In that case, my strength will eventually wane.”

  “I think it’s slowing already,” he says. After watching the water for a few minutes, it’s clear he’s right. The bubbling and churning have become a calm, steady current, and the level of the water seems to be lowering ever so gradually.

  “Well, this is cozy,” Nate says. He winks at me.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Mr. Draven Avenue. Losing my concentration right now would not be a good idea.”

  He looks at the wall of water, then back at me. “But you’re a girl. Can’t you multitask?”

  I lean my head back against the stone wall. “I refuse to let you talk me into a make-out session in a dodgy, underground tunnel. I have standards, you know.”

  Nate laughs. “Even if I read you some love poetry? Would you still refuse a kiss?”

  I lift my head and look at him. “Love poetry?”

  “This book,” he says, removing Angelica’s book from where it’s tucked beneath his arm. “It’s an anthology of poems. I don’t recognize any of the names, though.” He turns to a random page. “‘Dress my love in night. / Adorn her hair with stars, / her arms with shadows, / her lips with moonlight. / Let the wind be her chariot, / the mountains her footstool.’”

  “Ambrose Nightlace,” I say immediately. “He was a faerie poet, so you wouldn’t know him.”

  Nate stares at me. “So now you know poetry?”

  I shrug. “My mom was into it. I still have all her books.”

  Nate shakes his head. “If someone had told me before I met you that faeries existed,” he says, “you, Violet, would not be what I imagined.”

  “Oh really? And what exactly would you have imagined, Nathaniel?”

  “Well, you’d be miniature, for one thing, with wings and some kind of sparkly, otherworldly clothing. You’d wave your wand around a lot, and you’d have your own language. Or maybe you’d speak proper, old-fashioned English.”

  That last one stumps me. “But humans don’t speak proper, old-fashioned English anymore. Why should we? Besides, I spend a large amount of time hanging around humans while waiting for bad things to happen to them. Of course I’m going to end up speaking like—”

  My words are cut off by a screeching, groaning sound, like slabs of rock moving against each other. The tunnel shudders, and through my shield I see chunks of stone falling into the water. I extend the shield to cover the entire surface of the crevice wall, hoping to hold it together. But the earthquake—if that’s what it is—passes as quickly as it came.

  “Weird,” Nate says, as I carefully pull my shield back so it only blocks the water.

  I shift slightly in the tiny space and feel something digging into the right side of my butt. I reach beneath me and pull the metal disc out of my pocket. “Oh, hey, I found out what this symbol means.” I rest the circular shape on my knee. “Remember when I told you about halflings?”

  “Yes. I thought you were referring to hobbits, but you had no idea what I was talking about.”

  “Right. I still don’t. Anyway, do you remember me saying that halflings have unpredictable magic and some of them do crazy stuff like try to take over the world?”

  Nate snorts, then makes a valiant effort to keep a straight face. “Sorry. Yes, I remember.”

  I sigh. “Now what?”

  “Nothing.” But he seems unable to keep the grin from creeping back onto his face. “You just sound like these two cartoon mice I used to watch. ‘What shall we do tonight, Brain?’ ‘The same thing we do every night, Pinky—try to take over the world!’”

  I blink at him.

  “But that’s obviously not important right now. Sorry. Go on.”

  I wait a moment, to make sure he’s listening, then continue. “So, there was this half-human, half-faerie named Tharros Mizreth—”

  “Jeez, try saying that five times in a row without getting your tongue twisted,” Nate says. I glare at him, and he mimes locking his lips shut.

  “Anyway, not all halflings have magic, but it was clear from early on that Tharros possessed enormous power. Way more than any ordinary faerie or halfling. Basically, to cut a long history lesson short, he tried to gain control of a number of human cities, and in the process manipulated and killed many fae and humans. This—” I tap the metal disc on my knee

  “—was the symbol Tharros used to represent himself.”

  Nate frowns. “How did my mother end up with a halfling’s symbol?”

  “And how did she end up with a book of faerie poetry?” Nate doesn’t answer, turning his head instead to watch the water flowing past us. “I was thinking that perhaps she’s descended from Tharros’s human side,” I say, “and the disc was passed down to her.”

  “Mm,” Nate says. He looks back at me. “So what happened to this Tharros guy?”

  “A number of Guilds throughout the world got their best guardians together and they eventually took him out. This was a few centuries ago.”

  Nate looks mildly surprised. “Your Guild isn’t the only one?”

  “No. There are quite a few.” From the corner of my eye, I see the water is almost gone. “The Guilds are all situated near areas where dangerous fae seem to congregate. Like what we, in Creepy Hollow, refer to as Underground.”

  “Which is where we are right now,” Nate says.

  “I think so.”

  “Do you go Underground for assignments?”

  “Hell, no. It’s way too dangerous. Teams of fully trained guardians come down here sometimes to take care of certain things, but trainees are never sent. It’s not like we’re forbidden to go Underground, but I get the impression we’d be in trouble if we did and the Guild found out.”

  The last of the water trickles away, leaving a thin layer of wet mud on the stone floor. I let
go of the shield and it ripples, then disappears with a pop. I stand up. It’s a relief to stretch my legs out.

  I conjure up another ball of light, and we continue down the tunnel. We reach a fork and take the left-hand path after I check Angelica’s location once more. Several minutes pass, and the tunnel begins to smell as though something died in it. I’m just beginning to get nervous about the kind of dead body we might come across, when we round a corner and almost smack into the backside of a troll.

  The troll is enormous and hunched over, way too big for this tunnel. He clutches a wooden log in his massive fist. I take a hasty step backward as he swivels to face us. I reach into the air for a sword, knowing from previous experience that my arrows can barely pierce a troll’s skin.

  “What do you want me to do?” Nate whispers, his hands raised in fists as though he intends to box with the troll. Before I can answer—or laugh—the troll raises the log and swings it down at us. I jump out of the way and slash at his arm. The blade makes contact, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He advances on us, swinging the log back and forth, sending us back the way we came. I need to stun this guy or we’ll never get past him.

  “Keep him occupied,” I tell Nate before letting go of my sword and running back down the tunnel.

  “What?” Nate yells. “You’re leaving me?”

  “I need time!” I shout back over my shoulder.

  I stop somewhere around the corner in a darkened crevice. Okay, focus. I breathe in slowly, drawing power from deep within me. As much power as I can get, as quickly as I can get it. Purple sparks ignite between my hands, jumping and swirling in a ball of magic that grows larger and larger. Come on, come on. I need a lot to take out a troll. Way more than I should probably be using up right now.

  “Violet!” Nate shouts. I expected the troll to be around the corner by now, but whatever Nate’s doing to distract him, it’s working. “How much more time do you need?”

  Come on, come on. “Come ON,” I groan out loud. The troll rounds the corner, and for a moment I think Nate has disappeared. But then I see him, balanced on one of the troll’s shoulders, his hands twisted in the troll’s greasy hair. The troll roars and swings his arms about, as though trying to swat a fly, but Nate dodges easily.

  With as much force as I can muster, I throw the magic at the troll. The purple light hits him directly in the center of his stomach, just as Nate leaps off his shoulder and onto the ground. The troll lets out a loud grunt. His black eyes glaze over. He sways slightly, then topples to the ground. The impact sends a shudder through the stone tunnel.

  Nate, breathing hard, turns to look at me. “You could have at least left me with a weapon before you ran off.”

  “Sorry. Guardian weapons only work for guardians.” I run a hand through my hair as I walk over to him. “Besides, you seem to have handled it well enough without a weapon. How did you get up on his shoulder?”

  Nate surveys the fallen troll. “When his arm came down to hit me, I jumped onto it and pulled myself up. I honestly thought he’d whack me right off, but I guess it worked.”

  I stand on tiptoe and kiss Nate’s cheek. “Well done,” I say with a grin. “And sorry I ran off. It’s just that it takes some time to draw enough power to stun someone, especially someone the size of a troll, and I couldn’t exactly do it while fending him off.” I step up onto the troll’s giant leg and begin climbing over him. “That’s the reason we don’t stun while fighting,” I explain. “There’s no time to stop and gather all that power.” We jump down onto the other side. “Gross,” I add, holding the back of my hand up to my nose. “He smells like a dead frog.”

  Nate wipes his hands on his jeans. “And he really needs to wash his hair.”

  After that, I keep one of my sparkling guardian knives in my hand, ready to throw it at the first thing that moves. But we don’t have a chance to come across any other creature because around the next corner the tunnel comes to an abrupt end. Bright light pours out of an archway. An archway that opens into a large chamber. And sitting at a desk just inside the chamber, is a woman.

  Ten

  Ornate hangings decorate the chamber walls, and the floor is a mosaic of giant stone tiles. Colors and shapes swirl lazily within the tiles, some looking disturbingly like faces. Plants that must be kept alive by magic line the walls, and a cage of twittering birds hangs in one corner. In the center of the chamber, behind the desk the woman is sitting at, a stairway spirals from floor to ceiling.

  The woman doesn’t notice us standing motionless in her doorway. Instead, she stares at a book spread open on her desk. She’s dressed in white, with long sleeves that reach almost to the tips of her fingers. Elaborate silver jewelry curls around her neck. Her black hair is tainted with strands of grey, which seems strange to me because, from where I stand, I can’t see a single wrinkle on her flawless face.

  I let go of my knife. Its fiery disappearance into the air catches her attention. Her head snaps up, and the moment I see her eyes, I know something isn’t right.

  “Nathaniel,” she breathes as she rises from the desk in one fluid movement. “I so hoped you would find me one day.”

  Her eyes are bright silver, and I realize then that her hair isn’t grey. It is, of course, also silver. And that can mean only one thing. “Nate.” I grab his hand to pull him back. “This isn’t your mother.”

  Her gaze flicks immediately to me. “And why do you say that? Because I am a faerie?”

  “Uh, yes.” Clearly not a very intelligent one. “In case you haven’t noticed, the boy standing beside me is human.”

  “Right. A human who can see past glamours and travel safely through faerie paths. In case you haven’t noticed, little faerie girl, the boy standing beside you is a halfling.”

  A halfling.

  No, that’s crazy. Crazy. But then … it actually makes a lot of sense. Crap. I hate being wrong. I look at Nate. His mouth is hanging open, but he seems unable to make any sound come out.

  “A halfling without magic, of course,” Angelica adds. “I would have felt it when he was young if he had any power.”

  “Would you?” I counter. “From what I hear, you only stuck around for a few months.”

  “Have you seen him display any power?” she asks immediately. “If you have, I’d love to hear about it.”

  And, once again, it seems she’s right. Damn. I don’t like this woman, and it’s not just because she proved me wrong and called me ‘little faerie girl.’ It’s something about the power I can feel radiating from her. It’s cold, like a breath of glacial air.

  “Wait,” Nate says, finally finding his voice. “I’m … I’m a …”

  “A half-faerie, half-human,” Angelica says, her expression softening as she looks at her son. She flicks her hand, and the desk dissolves into a puff of smoke, revealing bare feet at the ends of her loose white trousers. She takes a step toward us, then stops when Nate holds his hand up.

  “Why did you leave?” he asks.

  “I didn’t. Not by choice, anyway. I was taken. I’ve been trapped down here ever since.”

  Liar. “I saw you on the other side of the cliff,” I tell her. “When Drake and Zell were pulling their crazy hangman stunt.”

  “Yes, that was me,” she admits. “But it was only a projection of me. I can’t physically leave this chamber.”

  “Then why have you never projected yourself into my home?” Nate asks.

  “I can only project myself within the fae realm.”

  How convenient.

  “And what about Drake and Zell?” Nate asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why did they want to see you so badly?”

  Angelica’s eyes drop to the floor, and she pauses before answering. Probably busy concocting some fantastical story. “Would you like to sit down?” she asks. She spreads her arm to the side and three seats appear. They’re woven from thin, flexible branches, and shaped like hollow eggs cut in half. A cord of rope attaches each one to the ceiling. “I can expl
ain everything to you,” she says.

  I don’t want to sit on anything conjured up by this woman, but Nate seems willing to listen to her. He fits himself carefully into one of the half eggs, and I perch on the edge of another. My hands and mind are ready to reach for a weapon at the slightest hint of danger.

  “I’d never had anything to do with Drake or Zell before they contacted me via a projection recently,” Angelica says. “They had somehow found out about a certain magical item of great power—an item I own—and they wanted to buy it from me. I told them it was not for sale and refused to meet with them again. But they were determined, and, as you had the misfortune to discover, Nathaniel, they decided to use you to force a deal with me. I had cast an enchantment over them that should have prevented them from ever finding you, but Zell must have got around it. Fortunately, your friend here—” she nods at me “—managed to save you. I haven’t heard from Zell since.”

  Nate says nothing for a while, then mutters, “No one calls me Nathaniel.”

  Well, clearly it’s up to me to ask the important questions. “Who trapped you here in the first place,” I ask, “and why?”

  Angelica manages to tear her eyes away from Nate, lifting her chin slightly as she looks at me. “A faerie of the Unseelie Court. He extended part of the Underground to build this labyrinth. He filled it with horrible creatures and destructive magic, and enchanted the walls to keep everything in.” A hint of pride enters Angelica’s voice, as though she admires the lunatic faerie who locked her in here. It sends a shiver right down to my feet. “In the center of this labyrinth,” she continues, “in this very chamber, he locked away those who refused to do his bidding. The reason I ended up here was because I would not give him the item of power I possessed. He was killed before I could negotiate my freedom.”

  Her voice never wavers, and neither does her gaze, but I find myself unwilling to believe her. After all, she could say just about anything and we’d never know if she was lying. “And what exactly is this item of power?”