by John Conroe
“Thank you for your candor, Councilor. I appreciate it. I even appreciate Councilor Rife speaking his mind so readily,” I said. “I prefer it to the twisted conversations the queens and their daughters seem to favor. Well, other than Neeve. She’s pretty straightforward.”
Most of them went very still, even Rife losing a bit of his attitude.
“That is another topic we wished to broach,” Mostella said carefully.
“The queens?” I asked.
“It seems pretty clear that you do not have a sound relationship with the Courts of Winter and Summer,” Mostella said.
“Oh, you’re wrong there,” Stacia said, entering the conversation for the first time. “It’s very sound—based on intense mutual dislike, perhaps bordering on hatred.”
The elves regarded her uncertainly—well, except for Rife. “You allow your creature to speak for you?” he asked with disgust.
I stood abruptly. The door to the hall opened itself behind me, Rife and his cushion dragged across the floor and out the door, and the door slammed shut.
“Anyone else have any comments regarding my life mate?” I asked, reaching out to hold Stacia’s hand.
They looked at us, clear emotion visible on their faces for the first time—shock.
There was a knock on the door, a very soft knock.
“Stocan, would you see who is at the door please?” I asked.
For his part, the elf who seemed to be chief steward for the city stood up, his face a bland mask, and strode to the door.
“It’s City Councilor Rife, milord,” he said.
“Oh? Does he wish to join us? Can he be civil?” I asked without turning around.
“The answer to both questions is yes, milord.”
“Okay, although he might need to bring his own cushion. We seem to be down one,” I said.
“Not a problem, milord. He comes bearing his own and it matches yours quite nicely,” Stocan said.
I couldn’t help the tiny grin that flickered across my face at Stocan’s nerve.
Rife walked stiffly across the floor, turning to give me a little bow, then turning to Stacia. “My sincerest apologies, madam. It was inexcusable.”
She gave him a slight nod, otherwise maintaining a cool reserve.
“So. As Stacia said, the relationship we have with the queens is hostile. It has been since before we ever came here. It was that hostility that forced me to accept the Realm’s request,” I said.
“You have said that several times now, milord,” Bien said. “In all previous instances, the Realms were simply seized by the individual who then Held them. You keep indicating that your case is different.”
“Since the moment I arrived to help with Ashley’s—with the Speaker’s—security, this land has ceaselessly sought my attention and then my acceptance of it as a holding.”
“Forgive me, milord, I mean no offense,” Cullene said, “but you are by both our standards and your own as I understand them, very young. Why would the powers of this land request you to accept them?”
“You don’t know?” Stacia asked, surprised. They looked at her blankly. “The queens sure understand it. Stocan, does the city in general, not know Declan’s nature?”
“The population knows he is of witch blood. That was clearly demonstrated when he intervened at the banquet and saved most of this very council. Beyond that, I am not certain what the people of Idiria know,” he said.
“Do you know?” she asked him.
“From private comments made by the Speaker, her father, and your other friends, I surmised that he was likely more than just an average witch. Actions since that time have supported that theory. As the queens have forbidden witches from Fairie by decree, we as a people do not have a great deal of knowledge regarding them.”
“Here is a crash course. Witches on Earth have maintained clear bloodlines for generations. Declan is the strongest witch of any type in the known history of witches,” Stacia said. “Which is why, despite his youth, he was, with the help of the Realm, a match for the queens and the dragon.”
“Yet despite the pedigree, you are embroiled in conflict with the most dangerous individuals on this world, ones with millennia of experience in inter-realm combat,” Rife said, clearly making an effort to rein in his forceful nature. “You have the smallest realm sandwiched between two much larger, heavily militarized, warfare-hardened enemies. And you have just one beast kin for support. So maybe you’ll understand our concern that we’ll be crushed when they come for you.”
“Why? Why will the queens both come for Declan?” Stacia asked.
“To get control of the Middle Realm,” Rife said, as if to a slow child.
“Why didn’t they take it earlier, long before we showed up?” she pressed.
“How are we to know the thoughts of such as they?” Rife protested.
“You’ve been councilors here for what? Decades?” Stacia asked.
“Most of us have served at least one hundred of your years,” Bien said.
“Wow, really? But have none of you wondered why one or the other queen or their daughters didn’t just take it over? Why have they allowed it to remain neutral?”
Several of the elves looked at each other. It was Fafael who finally spoke. “It is thought among some of our scholars that each queen could only claim and hold a single realm at a time. But we do not know for certain.”
“So why not one of the princesses?” Stacia asked.
“Both Eirwen and Neeve are also bonded to their respective realms,” Fafael said.
“So, does it strike any of you as odd that Ashley would be advised to bring powerful protectors to the negotiations, submit a list of names to Morrigan’s daughter and chief assassin with the name of Earth’s most powerful witch, who Neeve has met before, and nobody raised any real issues?” Stacia asked.
“You’re implying it was intended that Lord Declan arrive here and take the Middle Realm? To what possible cause?” Cullene asked.
“Well, let’s say you’ve used up the ready resources at hand, as has your sister, who is also your chief opponent. There’s a rich deposit of power sandwiched between you, but you can only take and hold what you already have. How do you get your claws into it?”
“You get a proxy to take it over and then find a way to control that individual,” Cullene said.
“And why do you think the land itself begged Declan to accept it? Why not a native?” Stacia asked.
“There hasn’t been an elf born with gifts on par with either queen’s since they themselves were born,” Fafael said. “Those born with any of the Gifts have been growing more scarce with every decade.” She lifted one hand, palm up, opening her fingers to reveal a huge diamond ring: intricate gold band and setting and an absolute monster of a gem. Then she tossed it up into the air and it disappeared. Beside me, I heard Stacia suck in a quick, quiet breath of air. Illusion.
“It takes someone of power to do it and there have been no contenders until now,” Stacia said, still looking at Fafael’s now empty palm.
“So they machined events to bring Lord Declan here and have him take over Middle Fairie,” Bien said.
“But he didn’t do it right away—he resisted the call. So suddenly his best friends are mysteriously trapped in the Winter Realm and in rescuing them, he is forced by constantly escalating dangers to accept Hold of the realm. Then he and his party manages to hold off the combined might of the queens long enough to escape,” Stacia said.
“It sounds implausible when you lay it out like that. What reason could they have had for allowing you to escape?” Cullene asked.
“Well, when you’ve been around for thousands of years and no contenders of your level have appeared, it would be natural to have a lower opinion of anyone who did finally come along,” I said.
“You’re saying they underestimated you?” Bien asked.
“The Watchers of the Veil were incredulous at the speed with which Declan learned to create portals. We underst
and it is a very rare talent. We don’t think the queens were prepared for Declan to be capable of it,” Stacia said. “They may not realize just how many talents he actually has.”
“How many is that?” Lillain asked.
I waved away the question. “Let’s get back to why you are here. The city and its inhabitants are worried I’m going to bring the queens down upon it, or go crazy with abusive power, or something of both.”
“You must admit, you face long, long odds,” Cullene said. “One holder with one beastkin ally, facing the combined might of both Courts. Summer alone has beastkin by the scores.”
“What? Summer has weres?” I asked him.
“Many. Although they are primarily cats—tigers and leopards,” Cullene said. “You do not even really know what you face, do you?”
“I’ve been to your world exactly three times, with a combined stay of less than three weeks. During that time, I’ve only traveled a bit of Middle Realm with a very short side trip into Winter. Prior to coming here, I only learned that access to Fairie was real and possible a year ago. Not a lot of time to become an expert,” I said.
“And therein lies our gravest concerns,” Rife said. “You know nothing. You simply blunder ahead with no plan, no support, trusting in luck and the blind power of being a Holder.”
I felt my eyes narrow. Words formed in my brain, headed straight for my mouth. No resources? No plan? Blind? I opened my mouth and Stacia spoke.
“We have no intention of dragging the fight here, to Idiria. We’re only here now to gather information. We’ll act from another part of the realm, far from you folks and your people. The sooner we can learn what we need to know, the sooner we can be gone,” she said, looking at me as she finished. Right, mouth shutting now. I smiled and gave them all a nod of agreement.
“How far from here will you be? To insure our safety?” Trohale asked.
“To protect you, we won’t tell you. That way, the queens won’t be able to demand answers from you,” Stacia said sincerely.
“What about your plan?” Lillain asked.
“Again, for your protection, we will keep it to ourselves. What you all can do to hurry us out of your city is provide us with whatever knowledge you all have regarding the forces arrayed against us,” Stacia said. “After that, we will leave immediately.”
The council was quiet for a moment, exchanging glances. Finally Bien spoke for all of them. “In the interests of the city, we will provide you what we can. The day is growing late. Perhaps we can send you a couple of our scholars who study the Courts. They are our best source of general information regarding the Realms of Winter and Summer,” she offered.
“And in return, we’ll remove ourselves from this part of the realm immediately after we meet with your experts,” I said.
Another set of group glances and Bien nodded. “Agreed.”
Chapter 21
“So what do we know?” I asked Stacia when we were alone except for Pancho and his clan.
“Well, I can tell you I don’t trust any of them, but my money is on Lillain and Trohale as pawns of the queens. Not sure which serves which, though,” Stacia said.
“Trohale would be Zinnia’s. She prefers males as servants. Morrigan doesn’t like males much, so Lillain would be hers,” I said, suddenly certain my odd insight was dead on.
She looked at me in surprise. “Instinct? Holder knowledge?” she asked.
“Something like that. What about Rife?”
“He’s basically an asshole,” she said. “But I doubt he works for anyone but himself. Fafael smells of Stocan so I’m gonna go out on a limb and say she’s his wifey.”
“Weretigers, huh?” I said.
“Summer—jungles—why not tigers?” she shrugged.
“Never met any, that’s all. Mountain lions, wolves and bears, but not tigers or even leopards except for Ari, and she’s obviously many generations from pure.”
“Makes me wonder if we shouldn’t chat with her and her daughter when we get back to Earth,” Stacia mused.
“So what happens next, do you think?” I asked. “Another contact from either Court or assassination attempt?”
“Oh, contact, definitely. I think if the queens truly wanted you dead, you’d already be fighting for your life,” she said.
“Or dead,” I added.
She studied me with that analytical look that told me I was seconds from some most likely painful observation of me.
“You didn’t ask for any of this, I get it. But you’ve been dragged onto the game board, feet first. You have no choice but to stand up and play to the absolute best of your ability. You more than surprised Eirwen today. We didn’t give away any real information, and we learned a lot. Tomorrow we learn more. I don’t know if we can win, but I know they’re already underestimating us.”
The pain hit me like a rock falling on my head. A sharp, red-hot burn up the side of my right leg. It buckled instantly and I was falling, muscles clenched tight against the agony. I felt Stacia catch me and ease me to the ground but my awareness was now out of my body and far, far out in my realm.
“Declan, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Pain,” I gasped. “Up the side of my leg. Don’t think it’s really mine though,” I hissed. My thoughts flew outward and I found myself at the southern edge of the Realm. Immediately, I spotted the problem. “Massive vines bursting through the ground from Summer. Things like two-inch mutant ants pouring out of them. We’re under attack,” I panted.
“What can I do?” she asked, frantic.
“Do? It’s happening hundreds of miles from here. There’s nothing to do,” I said, clenching up again.
“There’s got to be something. Open a portal so I can attack it,” she demanded.
“It’s… it’s like… ah, a quarter-mile wide,” I said.
“There’s got to be something. I’ve got steel shot shells, iron filing bombs, something?” she growled, holding up one of our improvised bombs.
A fresh wave of pain shot up my leg, but now that I knew its source, I was able to make a little headway in controlling the sharp agony. The attack was coming mainly from the leg-thick creeping vines that were burrowing through the ground—my ground—shoving up all over like mutant Japanese Knotweed gone crazy, while the huge ant-like insects with razor-sharp mandibles were ripping into anything living they could find.
I wanted nothing more but to attack them back and the coordinates were obvious in my mind, but what could Stacia do? By herself, on the ground, she’d have a massive area to cover all while in danger from the ants and the twisting constrictor vines themselves. Why, she’d have to be high above them to even begin to get any dispersal of her little bomblets. An image of portal class popped into my head. Above the ground.
I rolled to my stomach, still unable to touch my leg, let alone stand on it. My hands were fine though and I fumbled in my bag till I got a hunk of sidewalk chalk. “Get your bombs ready,” I said, scribbling runes on the ground around a hastily scratched circle about a foot across.
My bag of tricks yielded one of Mack’s batteries and I charged the circle with half of its power.
Immediately the circle of rock changed to a round window looking down on a grassy plain with grotesque plant tentacles writhing across it. The green grasses died as soon as Summer’s mutant monsters touched it, turning huge swathes to brown withered ruin.
“Can I just throw them through?” Stacia asked.
“Yes. Quick though,” I said.
She lit the cannon fuse on two of them with a disposable butane lighter and dropped them through. Before they even hit the ground, she had her DP-12 shotgun pointed at a distant patch of vines, opening fire with both barrels.
The bombs went off, blasting big clouds of iron filings across the landscape even as her steel shot reached its target. Summer’s little shop of horrors actually screamed as the filings and shot melted everything they touched. The massive bugs curled up and died by the scores as the deadly m
etal billowed out.
-Help?-
Looking through the portal while feeling with my mind was horribly discordant, but I still sensed the little Air elemental I had met before.
“Blow the cloud toward the plants,” I said.
“What? How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Stacia asked, dropping another bomb.
“Not you. An elemental,” I said.
A wind sprang up below our window, the iron filings swirling up and around the plants, killing both Summer’s vines and my own grass as well as the bugs.