The Iron Locket (The Risen King)

by Samantha Warren

  *~*~*

  Aiofe spun away from the dog on her left and threw her arms up to protect herself as she fell to the ground in the fetal position. Its weight crashed on top of her, forcing the air from her lungs and clamping down on her arm. It ripped at her jacket, trying to tear her flesh from her bones. With her free hand, she scrambled to find the knife or pistol at her hip.

  With a surge of relief, her fingers bumped into the knife's short hilt. She snatched it from its sheath and swung her arm up with all the strength she could muster. The blade sank into the dog's side just below its shoulder. The beast lurched as it released her arm and stumbled away. Aiofe sat up, cradling her bleeding arm against her body. The creature twitched twice and lay still. Aiofe glanced around her. The rest of the pack lay dead or dying amid puddles of blood and gore.

  "Lea, we have to go!" The blond man's horse was prancing in a circle as he looked around him. Their eyes met once more, drawn together like the opposite poles on a pair of magnets. A brief flash of a stream in a wooded area, her mother laughing... He turned as the dark haired woman raced up to him. He reached out a hand and pulled her up onto his horse. With one last glance at Aiofe, he spun his horse and they took off at a run across the battlefield. Aiofe watched them go, her mind a disconcerted jumble of emotions and memories that made no sense.

  "Are you alright?"

  Aiofe jumped at the voice beside her. A man dressed in chain mail looked down at her. His hair was long, about chin-length and dark blond, with braids at his temples. He held out a gloved hand. She hesitated until a young woman came up behind him. She was blond and beautiful, with a hint of familiarity. The woman nodded at the man's hand, an amused look of expectation on her face. Aiofe took it awkwardly, hoisting herself to her feet with his help.

  The blond woman stepped forward and wrapped her hands around Aiofe's injured arm. Her pouty lips smirked when Aiofe tried to jerk back and the woman quirked an eyebrow. "I'm not going to hurt you any worse than they already have," she said, her eyes darting to the bodies laying on the ground.

  Aiofe gave in and let the woman examine her arm. She noticed others standing around them in a loose circle with their weapons drawn. Three of them had shiny armor similar to the man's, but most wore the leather trappings of the female. Another young man in armor kept glancing surreptitiously at the woman, watching her work. Aiofe fought back a smile as she recognized the look in his eyes.

  "That thing did a number on you, but you'll live, I think." The woman looked at the first man. "We need to get her back to the castle so we can treat her before this becomes infected. Lea is retreating; the others should be competent enough to clean up." After a dramatic pause, she added, "Maybe."

  As the woman steered Aiofe to a horse, the young faery hunter found her lungs suddenly growing tight. She reached out, slapping feebly at the air until her hand settled on the saddle. She gripped a leather strap tightly, focusing on the feel of it in her fingers as she took long, deep breaths, willing the blackness around her vision to cease.

  "She's going into shock. Percival, darling, can you grab the canteen from my pack, please?" The words that floated through the haze barely made sense as Aiofe blinked rapidly. When the woman gripped her upper arms tightly and pulled her toward the ground, Aiofe found herself unable to resist. "Come on, sit down now. Drink this."

  The metal of the flask felt cool against her lips and the liquid inside flowed soothingly down her throat, leaving a pleasant fruity aftertaste on her tongue. She swallowed carefully, unwilling to upset her already churning stomach. After a few tense moments the darkness dissipated and her frantic breaths slowed to a steady pace. She used her uninjured arm to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

  "Thank you," Aiofe mumbled toward the figure crouched beside her.

  "Think nothing of it." The woman smiled, her clear blue eyes twinkling. "You are not the first to go into shock after battle, and you will definitely not be the last." She gripped Aiofe's elbow gently and helped the young woman to her feet. "I am Zela, daughter of Titania, General of the South. And you are?"

  Aiofe hesitated. She knew plenty of Titania, the southern queen who had recruited humans to protect the world from rogue faeries, but how much did the faeries know of Titania's dealings with the humans? She was spared the decision as the blond woman's hand reached out toward Aiofe's throat. Aiofe made to move back, but the woman was quicker than she was and soon held the locket in her hand. It was a mistake on the faery's part. With a hiss, she dropped the iron necklace, pulling her fingers back to cradle them gently against her chest. Her eyes were aflame, her nostrils flaring wide.

  "Who are you?" This time the question was a demand, not a pleasantry. One hand rested on a sword at her side and her visage spurred Aiofe to a response.

  "My name is Aiofe Callaghan. I am a--"

  "A hunter." It was not an accusation. As realization dawned on Zela's face, her expression turned to curiosity and awe. "Amazing. How did you come to be in Faery? Mother will not like it, obviously. Humans are banned from this world, as faeries are supposed to be banned from yours. It is rare for one to cross over if not by accident."

  Aiofe held up her hands, palms out, flinching with the pain it caused in her lower arm. "It was an accident, I assure you. I was with my grandfather, chasing an emerald sprite. I... My grandfather fell behind and I followed the sprite into a thicket. It led me here."

  Zela beamed. "Your grandfather? Is that Aloysius? Please tell me he is faring well. I met him once or twice and he was a lovely man. And your grandmother? Maureen? Is she--"

  "Are you taking a break from the war, Zela?" Another faery with long black hair had joined them. She had a bloody gash along one side of her neck but did not seem to notice the wound. Unlike the blond faery, her features were not warm, but cool and haughty. "Introduce me to the human."

  Zela stiffened, her smile fading into a tight line. "Drakka," she said, the words coming out with great restraint. "This is Aiofe Callaghan, a faery hunter."

  Drakka's eyebrows danced upward almost imperceptibly. "And why is she here?"

  "An accident, nothing more. She was following a sprite that entered their world against orders."

  The pale woman's cold gaze froze Aiofe where she stood. Never before in her life had she encountered faery royalty, but she was sure she had now met two.

  "See to it that she makes it home safely." The faery's tone indicated that she really didn't care one way or another if Aiofe made it home safely or not.

  Drakka turned, focusing her attention on Zela and effectively ignoring Aiofe. As the two women entered into a quiet conversation, Aiofe inched away, finding her way to the side of the man who had come to her aid first. He gave her a small smile and bowed his head.

  "I am Tristan, m'lady. Knight of the Round Table." He held out a hand indicating the young blond man who had brought Aiofe the canteen. "That is Percival, and the two that look like twins are Balan and Balin. You don't need to know which is which. Lord knows none of us do." He grinned when the two brown haired men protested, but Aiofe could understand why no one could tell them apart. Besides, she had bigger questions on her mind.

  "Uh..." Aiofe raised her hand like a child in school. "Did you say 'knight of the round table', or did I just hear you wrong?"

  Tristan gave her a sidelong grin. "No, m'lady. You heard right. There are thirteen of us."

  The young woman's mouth worked, trying to form any one of a billion questions stumbling over each other in her head. "Zela said something about a castle?"

  Tristan pushed himself away from the horse he had been leaning on. "Ah, yes. Let us go find Arthur and we will head back to get that wound looked at. I'm sure many of the knights will need some care, as well. I fear we do not have a spare horse for you. You will be safe enough riding with me, if that pleases you." He bowed slightly again, as if requesting that Aiofe share a horse with him was akin to her eating scraps of bread because that's all they had left.

  "Yes," she said through a forc
ed smile. "That should be fine. But, to be honest, I've never ridden a horse before, so I don't know the first thing about it."

  The men exchanged glances and began murmuring until Tristan held up a hand to silence them. "No matter, m'lady. I am a fair enough rider." He knelt down, putting one knee at ninety degrees next to the horse and looked up at her expectantly. It took Aiofe a moment to figure out what he wanted, but after a long uncomfortable pause, she lifted a leg and placed her boot on his thigh. "Other leg, ma'am."

  Aiofe cleared her throat and switched feet. Then his hand was gripping her bottom and she felt herself hoisted into the air. Any attempt to stifle the imminent squeal failed miserably, but she managed to swing her other foot around without kicking him in the face and soon she was seated on the horse's shoulders. The knight swung up behind her without help and she tensed as he reached for the reins.

  "You can relax, m'lady. You are safe with the knights, I assure you." Aiofe nodded, but her shoulders remained tight. To the men, he said, "Let us go find our king."

  The first step the horse took was a big one and Aiofe found herself flopping forward. She gripped the mane tightly and closed her eyes, ignoring the soft snort of laughter behind her. She forced herself to breathe as the horse jostled along. She was certain that the thing was stepping on every possible stone and moving around as much as possible just to upset her.

  "Tristan, Arthur says we are to meet him at the path."

  Aiofe risked a peek at the new voice and was greeted with a pleasant sight. The man beside them had dark wavy hair and deep brooding eyes. He was quite handsome, though she would never admit it out loud. He caught her eye and winked.

  "Who is this lovely thing? Bringing another pet home are we?" The man stared at her and she could feel her cheeks growing red.

  "Kay." There was a warning in Tristan's voice and it earned him a glare from the other man. Tristan raised his chin in defiance. "She is to be our guest, per order of the southern general. She has been wounded and needs immediate care if she is to fully recover."

  Kay plastered a hard smile across his face and cocked his head in a mock bow. "By all means, do not let me hold you up. Carry on." He backed his horse up a few steps, giving Tristan room to pass unhindered.

  The other knight spurred the horse on, angling it up a hill toward a plateau. Slowly, Aiofe found her body melding to the rhythm of the horse and as she did, her fear lessened. She straightened slightly and looked around. The field they were ascending was untouched by the ravages of the war below, but with a slight turn of her head she could see the chaos that still reigned. Movement was sparse among the bodies littering the ground. With a gasp, she looked away as a dragon swooped down and snatched up a screaming creature in its toothy maw. Tristan slowed the horse as they broke over the crest of the hill. It was teeming with faeries. Some were moving around among row upon row of injured soldiers. Aiofe tried to close her mind to the screams and moans that were echoing out across the plateau.

  "There he is. My king," Tristan said as he steered his horse further from the edge toward a tall hedge.

  Aiofe followed his nod. Sitting astride a white horse sat the most beautiful man she had ever seen, literally a knight in shining armor. Her heart floated up and out of her chest, taking her body with it. She felt light as air, as if the insane craziness of the world just fell away, leaving her with an inner peace she had never before known. Tristan stopped the horse next to the man and his blond head turned toward them. Aiofe's breath caught in her throat as his bright blue eyes met hers and her lips curled up in an involuntary smile.

  He held out his hand, his grin matching hers. "Hello, m'lady. I am Arthur, Ruler of Camelot and Knight of the Round Table."

  Aiofe took his offered fingers in a daze, his words barely registering. When his lips met her skin, she melted.

  *~*~*

  SIXTEEN

  *~*~*

  Kane sat in the sleek leather chair by the roaring fire in his sitting room. A small white faery lay crumpled on the floor near the door, the victim of anger that had been suppressed for far too long. He growled out loud in irritation at himself. Now he would have to find another servant to train. It was a chore he did not enjoy, but seemed to be doing quite frequently lately.

  Lost in his thoughts, he raised his hand automatically and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened and for a second, his anger grew. Then he remembered the dead servant behind him and sighed in resignation before standing up and walking to the side bar. Taking a crystal decanter of putrid-looking liquid from the silver tray, he poured himself a half glass, tossed the liquid back with a grimace, then filled the glass to the brim before placing the decanter back on the tray.

  Seated back in front of the fire, the blond faery let his thoughts drift. First, he thought of the injured Leanansidhe. He was supposed to be her closest ally, but deep down in his heart, he wished the young red-head had pierced the witch's heart instead of her shoulder. The red head...

  Kane's drink tilted in his hand, all but forgotten. The green liquid dripped over the edge onto the rug beneath him, staining the expensive fabric an ugly color, but he didn't notice. His eyes stared unseeing into the fire blazing before him, the flames molding into dancing hair of a similar color. The red-head... He had seen her before, many years ago. In the fireplace grew a face, so similar to the woman he had seen today that it could be her twin.

  No, thought Kane. Not her twin. Her mother. He pressed his lips tightly together as his heart clenched in his chest, skipping in an irregular rhythm that didn't know whether to speed up or stop altogether. The tightness stretched, rising up into his throat and sinking down into his stomach. He wanted to vomit, to fall to his knees and retch up his lungs, to purge himself of the hate and the horror that overtook him and warped him into who he had become, but some part of his mind held him back, clinging to the tiny bit of sanity he had left, forcing memories into his vision, blurring the dancing face.

  A young girl, hair flame red, racing through the forest with her grandfather. That same girl, now nearly an adult, out on her own for the first time. It was nearly her last, or would have been if Kane hadn't shown up. He knew the faery had escaped to the human realm and he sought it out, seeking to recruit it into his small but growing army, an army he built with his new ally, Leanansidhe, back before his mother and father knew of his terrible treachery.

  Kane shuddered, pushing the image of his cohort away. She was blocking the memory he wanted right now. There, the girl was back. Her red hair splayed across the ground as she lay on her back with the evil faery on top of her. The creature grinned as he straddled her stomach, tracing a wicked blade across her cheek.

  "How pretty you are, my little thing. Such a shame, such a shame." His expression perked up a bit and a smile grew slowly across his face. "I think, my dear child, you would make a great addition to my household. My current paramours are growing a little..." He waved the knife in the air, looking for the right word. "Used," he said, saliva dripping from his sharp teeth as the vicious grin grew.

  The girl thrashed as the creature stood and pulled her up, his fingers tangling tightly in her hair. She screamed until he clamped a hand over her mouth, gripping her cheeks so tightly that red marks formed around his fingers and her screams turned to whimpers of pain. Kane watched as he dragged her through the woods toward the doorway he had used. As the pair neared, the girl's face became clearer, her green eyes filled with terror as they darted around, looking for an escape. Then they settled on Kane's.

  As their eyes locked, his body cried out in rage, shoving from his mind everything but the desire to protect her. He surged out of the woods, launching himself at the creature. Stunned at the sudden intrusion, the faery released his grip on the girl, trying to turn to face the newest threat. He didn't move fast enough and blood spewed across the girl as the creature's head went flying.

  She stumbled backward, gasping audibly as she tried to put distance between her and Kane. He held up his bloodied hands, fighti
ng back a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. His brain was trying frantically to explain his actions, this sudden need to be heroic and protect a mere human.

  The girl backed into a tree and held still. Their eyes were still locked. He could see her fear, but he could also feel her curiosity. Carefully, his hands held high, he approached until he was just a couple feet away.

  "Are you alright?" His voice came out shaky and hesitant, causing him confusion. He was a prince, heir to a throne. He was confident and sure of himself, and a human was causing him to be nervous.

  The girl nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I'm fine." Her voice was soft and delicate, floating to him like a summer song, wrapping itself around his heart.

  He reached out very carefully, cautiously, absolutely terrified that he was going to spook her and she would run away. With gentle fingers, he brushed a lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. He found himself standing right in front of her, not an arm's length away.

  "I'm Kane," he whispered as his head tilted down toward hers.

  A smile played across her lips and her hands slipped up across his chest. "I'm Caena," she said, just before her lips met his.

  *~*~*

  SEVENTEEN

  *~*~*

  "Is she awake yet?"

  Rogan looked up as Arthur came into the room, speaking before he had even rounded the curtain. He had not seen his master wound so tightly in all the time he had been in the castle, but the girl seemed to do something to him.

  "No, sir. She still sleeps. Princess Zela gave her a sedative to keep her as still as possible so the poison does not move too quickly through her body. The banewolves were a different breed than the general has seen, likely bred for their poison by the Leanansidhe. She has summoned the Queens to aid us."

  Rogan bowed his head as he patted the young woman's brow with a wet cloth. She was pale, her white skin contrasting sharply with her red hair. It fell around her head like a halo, but matted against her forehead where the sweat gathered. Her breathing was ragged and shallow, but consistent.