by Sumida,Amy
“He went to Elatha for help?” I got back to the story.
“Yes, Elatha,” Nuada chuckled. “And as much as I'm at odds with the man, I must admit he has honor. Elatha refused to aid his son, telling Bres that he should not seek by foul means what he could not keep by fair.”
“Damn, that's a good line,” I shook my head. “I'm so stealing it.”
“Yes it's quite poetic, but Bres didn't stop with his father,” Nuada sighed. “He went to another Formorian, a chief named Balor. Balor happily used Bres as an excuse to go to war with us again, and the Second Battle of Mag Tuired was fought.”
“And you won,” I finished.
“Yes, but it was a bitter battle,” Nuada shook his head.
“Lugh,” Azrael said the single word, and Nuada lifted his brows in surprise.
Then Nuada frowned suddenly, casting me a horrified glance, which he transferred to the man waiting on the steps.
“Are you alright?” Odin asked him.
“Nuada?” Thor dropped a hand to Nuada's wide shoulder and Nuada flinched.
“Yes, yes. My apologies,” Nuada cleared his throat. “Lugh led the battle for us, you're right, Lord Angel,” he nodded to Az. “He was Balor's grandson, fostered by my friend Manannan there,” he nodded to the man on the steps. “And he won the war for us.”
“So Lugh was a Formorian?” I asked in surprise.
“Half,” Nuada swallowed hard. “Like Bres.”
“And half Tuatha?” Trevor pressed.
“Of course,” Nuada jumped out of the carriage without meeting our eyes, and rushed over to the man on the steps to embrace him. “Manannan, you recall Odin and Thor,” he waved back towards us as we hurried out of the carriage, trying to keep up with his sudden urgency. “This is Odin's wife, Vervain, and the rest of his family; Trevor, Kirill, Azrael, and Re.”
“What a diverse family you have,” Manannan's voice was deep and serene. “And it's a pleasure to meet all of you.”
“Vervain is the Queen of the Fire Kingdom in Faerie,” Nuada added reverently.
Manannan's eyes went wide, and then he dropped to one knee and bowed his head, “It's the greatest honor to meet you, Queen Vervain,” he pounded a fist to his chest.
“A great pleasure to meet you as well,” I stepped forward, relieved that I knew how to deal with such things now. There was a time when I would have stammered my way through this introduction But instead, I laid a hand on Manannan's bowed head, and gave him the blessing of the House of Fire, “May fire burn and blood flow for you.”
“Thank you, Queen Vervain,” Manannan said with deep sincerity and a little awe. He stood and smiled at me. “It has been far too long since Tara has been graced with faerie royalty, and even longer since I've received the blessing of a fire queen.”
“I'm honored to be the first to return,” I smiled back, “and to wish you well.”
“Please, come in,” Manannan led us into an echoing corridor of vaulted ceilings and little else.
The floor and walls were made of the same polished stone, an almost translucent material which I determined to be crystal upon subtle inspection. Nothing detracted from the simple beauty of the rock. No paintings or art of any form were hung upon it. No carpets or furniture laid over it. Above us, there were curving, sharply sloping, wooden support beams, but they were bleached white so they wouldn't interfere with the look of the crystal ceiling.
As we walked down the empty corridor, towards a staircase set within a massive cylindrical shaft, a man came hurrying down the hall towards us. Light was pouring down the stairwell from some unseen source, flooding the surrounding area with blinding brilliance, and back-lighting the man. So I didn't see his features at first. It wasn't until he was right upon us that I got a good look at him. I stopped in my tracks and gave a loud gasp.
Nuada flinched, and looked to Manannan with a clenched jaw. Manannan's eyes went wide with sudden horror as he looked from the newcomer to me, and back again.
“Vervain,” Nuada began, but I ignored him, and pushed past both him and Manannan, to better see the new man.
The man had been about to speak when he'd heard my gasp. He closed his mouth and stared at me instead. He continued to stare at me, utterly confused, as I walked up to him with what must have been an amazed expression. I looked him over as Nuada and Manannan hovered behind me, sputtering something I couldn't hear. I was too busy taking in the pure white hair, the pale skin with its golden shimmer, and those metallic gold eyes. His body was thicker than the man he resembled, more muscled and a hair taller, but there was no mistaking that face. That regal faerie face.
“Cian,” I whispered with awe.
“Yes,” the man brightened suddenly, and gave me a radiant smile. “Do I know you?”
“I don't think so,” I continued to gape at him as my mind tried to process what I was seeing.
“I am Lugh MacCein,” he held out a thick, warrior's hand to me. “Lugh, son of Cian,” he translated for me. “In the tradition of the Celts, I took my father's name as surname. Are you a goddess? Did you perhaps know my father when he was alive?”
“When he was alive?” I asked in surprise.
Manannan groaned, a horrible wounded sound, as Nuada stepped forward.
“Please stop, Vervain,” Nuada beseeched me. “Don't say it-”
But it was too late, I knew exactly who this man's father was, and he wasn't dead.
“Your father lives,” I announced, and Nuada closed his eyes, sighing deeply in misery.
“What?” Lugh frowned. “No, I'm sorry, Miss... Vervain, is it? My father was a warrior for my people, the Tuatha Dé Dannan, and a king to the humans. He died in battle, defending both the humans and the Tuatha against the Formorians.”
“No, Lugh. I don't think so,” I said, more certain with every passing second. This god could have been the High King's twin, their faces were so similar. This had to be Cian's son, Lugh even bore his name. It couldn't be a coincidence. “Your father is a king, that much is true, but he isn't Tuatha Dé Dannan. He's the High King of Faerie, ruler of the House of Spirit. I should know, I'm the Queen of Fire, and a friend of his.” I turned to Nuada suddenly, “What have you done?”
But Nuada's eyes were on Lugh, who was now staring back and forth between Nuada and Manannan with a stricken, disbelieving look.
“Lugh, it was a complicated time,” Nuada started. “Your mother, she couldn't keep you. She was already married to another, and your father... he was too important to burden with this.”
“Burden with me, you mean?” Lugh's face was transforming into rage. “You told me my father died! You said he was a hero! You said he was Tuatha Dé Dannan!”
“We took you in,” Nuada held out a hand to Lugh. “Manannan is your father. He raised you.”
“You said my father's name was King Cian,” Lugh whispered with horror. “Is this woman speaking the truth? Am I the son of a faerie king?”
“The High King of Faerie,” I interrupted. “And he would never find you to be a burden. Quite the opposite. King Cian is a good man, and children are highly valued in Faerie.” I turned my accusatory stare on Nuada, “Why didn't you tell Cian? I thought you were friends? He gave you dogs, for Faerie's sake!”
“We needed Lugh!” Nuada confessed in a rush. “And Cian couldn't acknowledge a half-breed baby. Lugh could never rule Faerie, could never be Cian's heir. Think of the misery that would have caused Cian! Think of the misery it would have caused his son,” his eyes went back to Lugh. “We did this to protect you.”
“You should have had more faith in your friend,” I shook my head at Nuada. “King Cian would rejoice to know he had a son. He wouldn't care one whit that Lugh couldn't rule. What right did you have to keep his child from him? His only child.”
Pain rose in my chest for my friend. As a mother, I couldn't imagine the hurt of losing a child without even knowing it existed. Did Cian have an empty ache inside him? Did he sense that somewhere there was someone
important to him? How tragic and senseless.
“My father lives?” Lugh whispered, and I turned towards the sound of his bittersweet joy.
“Yes, and I would be honored to introduce you,” I held out my hand. “I'm Vervain Lavine.”
“It's nice to meet you,” he sounded like a lost child as he shook my hand. Then he looked to Manannan. “All these years. I have loved you like a father. And you have been nothing but a jailer, taunting me with my true father's name.”
“Bite your tongue,” a woman said sharply from our left. We all turned to see a graceful lady with kelp green hair, and skin as pink as the inside of a seashell, come striding to us. She had huge ivy eyes and delicate gills in her neck. “You are Manannan's son, as you are mine. We took you into our home and our hearts, and raised you when your own parents could not. You will give us more respect, Lugh!”
“No!” Lugh slashed his hand down, startling this new woman into silence. It didn't hurt that a trail of sparkling magic had remained in the air between them, long after his hand fell away. “You betrayed me. Lied to me. And you are not my mother.”
She gasped, “Lugh!”
“How could you deceive me in this manner?” his voice broke as he eased closer to me. “This stranger has shown me more respect in the few moments I've known her, than all of you have in my entire lifetime.”
“That just isn't true, Son,” Manannan said in a deep voice.
“Don't call me Son. It's just another lie,” Lugh said calmly and then looked to me. “How soon could you take me to meet my father?”
“Um,” I looked to my men, and they gave me matching expressions of utter shock and confusion. “I need to speak with your people, then you can leave with us.”
“It seems as if they are not my people after all, Queen Vervain,” he said stiffly. “But I will offer my help to them this final time, and after the meeting I would be grateful for your help with reaching my father.”
“You have it,” deep in my stomach, my love magic felt his anguish and sought to comfort him. “Please allow me to be the first one to welcome you into your new family. I came into the knowledge of my blood late in life too, but I was welcomed warmly, and I wish to do the same for you. Welcome, Cousin. I rejoice in your return to us,” I opened my arms to him.
Lugh's face trembled with emotion, and he sort of fell into my embrace. He shook against me, his face sheltered in the curve of my neck. I held him tight, lifting Love inside me, and portioning a little off into him to ease his heartache. He shuddered and took a deep breath.
“Thank you, Cousin,” he whispered, and pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. “I feel suddenly adrift.”
“I will moor you,” I took his hand. “You know, you'll only be the second of your kind to enter Faerie, and I assure you, the last dual-souled being was celebrated.”
“Dual-souled?” Lugh stood back from me.
“You have a faerie essence and a god soul, Lugh,” I smiled brightly at him. “You're more special than you know. Welcome to the multi-soul club.”
“You can't do this,” the gilled woman nearly screeched. “You can't take my son from me!”
“Fand,” Manannan went to her, and folded her in against him.
“What race are you?” I let go of Lugh to point at the woman in accusation. “Are you a faerie?”
“Mother?” Lugh said automatically, and then frowned and corrected himself, “Fand? Is it true?”
“Water-sidhe, right?” I narrowed my eyes on her. “Is that why they gave him to you to raise?”
“I was the only one who would know how to deal with a fey child,” she admitted with a sorrowful puff of breath.
“You're a faerie?” Lugh looked like he was about to lose it, so I grabbed his hand again and squeezed it tight. “My life is a lie,” he said to me. “My entire life.”
“Then it's about time it became truth,” I said firmly. “It's never too late for the truth.”
He took a deep breath and nodded.
“Lugh,” Nuada began but Lugh cut him off.
“No,” Lugh held up his hand. “I will aid you in this last endeavor, offer you my counsel, and then I am leaving Tara with Queen Vervain. I want to meet my father.”
“So be it,” Manannan sighed. “You deserve to meet him, and he is a good man. Queen Vervain is speaking the absolute truth of it. We were wrong and I'm sorry. We should have given you to Cian, and I hope someday the both of you will forgive us.”
“Let's be on with this business so I can go about mine,” Lugh said gruffly. It was harsh, but I understood it. He'd been betrayed by the people he trusted the most. He wasn't ready to forgive, so he didn't even want to hear their apologies.
Lugh turned and led us up the stairs, holding my hand the entire way. I could feel the tremor going through his body, and knew he needed the strength of another person's touch. He needed something physical to hold onto, something that told him he may have lost everything, but there was still more waiting for him. I was honored to be that rock for him. Lugh, the only child of the High King of Faerie.
Damn, they'd probably write songs about the guy.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Zis is strange day,” Kirill whispered to me from his seat on my left.
Lugh was seated on my right, still holding my hand. My men were being good sports and were putting up with it. Mainly because there was obviously nothing sexual about our hand holding. This was pure comfort and support. It was funny how having children had made me want to mother everyone.
We sat at a round table nearly the same size of the round room it was dominating. There was just a slim walkway around the seats, and it had previously been full of Tuatha Dé Dannan. Now they all sat at the table with us. Their latest king, Dagda, sat in a throne across the way from me, staring thoughtfully upon the faeries at his table, one of them only recently revealed to be Fey. He'd been appraised of the situation with Lugh, and had been gallant about receiving the news. He was even more gallant about receiving me.
I suppose he had to be, he desperately craved our counsel, both mine and Lugh's. It turned out that Lugh was quite the adviser around here. He'd made a name for himself on the battlefield, when he'd killed his own grandfather, Balor (yeah, I know- hardcore). But it was his skill as a tactician that they wanted now. He gave his advice freely, though I saw the hesitation in his eyes. He technically had no ties to the Tuatha now, and one could argue that he should be fighting for the Formorians. His grandfather's death must have taken on new horrifying proportions for him. But years of living amongst a group of people who cared for him was hard to dismiss, even if he'd already done so verbally. Love is not so easily altered. Your brain might tell you to hate someone, but your heart will continue to do exactly as it pleases.
So we discussed the Formorians, and how they'd most likely be plotting to take Tara. Lugh offered them suggestions on scouting, and possible ways to fortify the island against attack. He had some very good thoughts on naval defense. It would be a challenge for the enemy to get into Tuatha territory in the first place, but the Tuatha seemed to think the Formorians capable of it. Honestly, I was of little use. I gave a couple of suggestions, and agreed to carry a message to King Cian when I returned with Lugh, but beyond that, I was too distracted to help them.
My thoughts were on Kirill. I gave a little attention to Lugh's plight, and offered him what comfort I could, but both my head and my heart were with my husband. I couldn't imagine what this mess had to do with Kirill or how it could lead to his death, but I had to view it as a potential threat. At this point, everything was a threat. Still, I was merely consulting on this situation. We had no stake in the battle that may or may not come to Tara. This fight had begun centuries before either Kirill or I had been born. It didn't belong to us, and we shouldn't go borrowing trouble. Especially with a fatal prophecy looming over our heads.
But that had never stopped me before.
I made a decision to sit this one out, if the Tuatha
had the nerve to ask me for help them with the Formorians. Frankly, I had no grievance with the Formorians. Maybe they had treated humans poorly in the past, but Bres' reaction to the police had me thinking they wouldn't be trying their tricks again in this age. Even if they did, it was doubtful such aggressive maneuvers would work. Humans were wiser, and had much better weapons than they'd had the last time Elatha walked the Earth. The gods who manipulated humans now, did so with subtlety and modern skill that the Formorians wouldn't know to use. Not that they couldn't learn. But that was only a possibility, and I refused to condemn them on something that may or may not happen. Faerie knows I've no room to judge. So they currently didn't pose a threat to the human race, and I didn't want to join a war I didn't fully understand or support. Especially since I was liking the Tuatha less and less.
To be fair, the rest of them seemed decent enough. Dagda had a kind look about him, even though he boasted the wide, hard, face and body of a warrior. His eyes were fair and gentle, and he had a way of speaking that gave respect to everyone. I liked that and I liked him... so far. I had liked Nuada too, and look where that had got me.
So perhaps this latest twist would change things and save Kirill. Perhaps staying out of this war would keep him alive. It made perfect sense to keep Kirill off the battlefield after a seer, who was known for prophesying the death of warriors pre-battle, had prophesied his. I mean, duh. Seemed like an obvious and simple solution.
But that awful echo of Alaric's voice cycled through my skull again, You can't fight fate. And the Fates themselves had said something similar. Pare. I could pare away my friendship with Nuada. I was kind of in the process of doing that already. Maybe that would work. I looked to Kirill, and he smiled his secret, loving smile for me. My heart stuttered with that smile. The pain this man had overcome to be here with me now was astronomical. For him to die when we were finally happy, would be a tragedy of even greater proportions.
“I won't let you die,” I whispered to him, and he didn't even flinch.