Meryl trudged up the slope. She had two cups in her hands and her giant bag over her shoulder. Our eyes met when she glanced up, and we both smiled. She wore knee-high boots with thick silver buckles and a black body stocking under her leather jacket. She had dyed her hair gray.
She handed me one of the cups. “I brought you coffee. I’ve got Guinness in my bag for later.”
We tapped cups. “Thanks,” I said.
She blew at the hot steam rising from her cup. “There is going to be a later, right? I mean, I paid for the beers this time.”
I arched my eyebrows. “You know the answer to that.”
“Heh, thought I’d ask in case you had any revelations,” she said.
Heydan was standing next to us. One moment he wasn’t there, the next he was. He wasn’t thirty feet tall any longer like he had been on the roof of Yggy’s earlier, but his normal eight. He seemed the most logical choice to go with Meryl. I liked the symmetry of it—male and female, Celt and Teut. Their personalities balanced each other, too. Plus, they liked each other. “Well met,” he said.
I looked at Meryl. “You don’t have to do this.”
She took my cup, placed it next to hers on the ground, and wrapped her arms around me. “How often does a girl maybe, possibly, sorta, kinda get the chance to start the universe over if her boyfriend screws up?”
“We don’t know it will work. You might die,” I said.
“You don’t know if what you’re about to do will work either, but you’re still going to try it. You might die,” she said.
I gazed down at her face. “How the hell did this happen to us of all people?”
She grinned. “Thank the fucking Wheel of the World, babe.”
I kissed her on the top of the head. “I love you, Meryl Dian.”
She took my head in her hands and kissed me long and hard on the lips. “I love you, Connor Grey.”
She stepped back and held her hand out to Heydan. “Ready, big guy?”
His massive hand closed over hers. Heydan stared down at me, his eyes aglow with white light. He nodded once, then faced the stone. As one, they stepped toward the pillar and vanished. I felt them for a moment as their body signatures danced across the surface of the granite, then they slipped away toward a place I hoped existed, a place the pillar touched, deep inside the Gap.
The place of the beginning that was the end of all things.
47
I was alone.
My stomach clenched with doubt as I rested my forehead against the pillar. I hoped I was doing the right thing and I had not sent the woman I loved to her death. That she vanished gave me hope that I was right. The pillar reached deep into the Wheel of the World. Maeve hadn’t lied. The source was here. The pillar touched it. I sensed it.
I lifted my head and searched among the gargoyles. My gaze settled on a little one, a short man, proudly displaying his oversized nakedness. A single horn grew from his forehead. He stared at me with sightless stone eyes. I knew he’d be there.
“Hey, Virgil,” I said.
His voice rasped across my mind like sandpaper. Home, he said.
I placed my hand on the pillar and closed my eyes. Maeve would sense what I was about to do. With luck, she would be delayed as she regrouped her forces. If I timed it right, at least some of this would end well, and I could repay a debt.
I gasped as essence from the stone coursed through my body like liquid fire. I held out my other hand and released waves of white lightning that danced among the gargoyles, jumping from one to the next. The light merged, became layered streams that revolved around the pillar. Faster and faster they spun, forming a swirling vortex with the pillar at the center
The gargoyles shuddered, stone coming alive with movement, stone flowing across the ground amid rivers of faint blue light. The blue light blossomed from the gargoyles like flower petals and danced in counterpoint to the white essence. Voices rose, cheers of joy and cries of anguish, as the gargoyles slumped and lost their shapes. The river of stone curved with the heat of the passage of light, lapping the pillar in a solid circle. The essence light revolved, blue and white, until the stone that was the gargoyles became a flat ring on the ground
I lifted my hand palm upward, chanting the ancient hymn I had invoked so long ago. The ground shook as the stone rose, a massive ring borne on yet more massive columns. A great wind came up as lightning filled the sky. I dropped my hands to my sides, breathing air crisp with the spark of electricity. The white essence light settled onto the stone, became one with it, infused it with a power that I had feared had been lost to the World. The stone ring stood around the pillar, its megalithic arches framing the swirling of the blue essence outside the circle.
Unbound from the gargoyles, the blue essence fragmented into orbs that stretched and touched the ground. I sang a song of unity, of earth and air that formed living shape. Earth swirled upward, first in a few places, then dozens, then hundreds, maybe thousands of columns of fecund earth. It wasn’t creation, but re-creation, a binding of souls to the material world, to become what they once were.
The columns of earth coalesced, sprouting limbs and heads. Bodies formed, sunburned skins tattooed with lines and circles of blue woad. Clear-eyed men and strong-faced women stared at me through the arches, the blue essence settling within them. They raised their arms, raised high shields and spears and swords, and let out a great shout that echoed with a resounding roar. The humans of Faerie stood restored, alive and unbowed.
A man entered the ring, stout with a drape of cloth over his shoulder belted at the waist. He planted his spear on the ground between us, his deep eyes wary beneath a wide brow pitted with blue swirls.
“My lord has magicked his face, but I still see his nature,” he said.
“Good to see you, too, Virgil,” I said.
He cocked his head. “Does my lord not recognize me?”
“I am no one’s lord now, Cruth. Call me Connor,” I said.
His gaze went to my sword, considering, probably wondering how someone holding such a weapon could not be a lord in his world. We weren’t in his world anymore, though. I was Connor now.
“We have waited as you asked,” he said.
My memory flashed back a century, to a wide plain filled with men and women marching. I remembered fearing that the humans would be helpless in the face of what was to come, powerless against the onslaught of Maeve’s madness, armed with little more than their courage. I remembered thinking I did not want to see them die for a madwoman’s lust for power. I remembered thinking I could save them, protect them from her gaze, hiding their life force in gargoyle-shaped stone. I was wrong. I delayed their fate. The Wheel of the World turns as It will, no matter the hopes of men and women.
“The battle is to be joined, Cruth. I don’t know if I can stop the High Queen’s slaughter. I cannot save anyone, but I can give you a chance to save yourself,” I said.
“The People of the Way have never doubted your heart,” he said.
“You are in a place other than you knew. The humans here are confused. They have great power, but I do not think they will use it against the People of the Way. I need you to keep them from this henge until the matter is settled. I will try to save as many as I can. Will the People of the Way lend me their courage?”
He clenched his fist. “We shall be as bones, bones of the earth, steadfast and eternal,” he said.
“I promise I will try,” I said.
“We hear and hope,” he said.
Cruth withdrew from the henge, shouting to his people. They picked up his call, their voices rising in answer, beating spears against rough shields. The call spread out from the henge, and as one the humans of Faerie marched, their faces set with determination and wonder as National Guard tanks appeared in the surrounding streets. They set their backs to me and their spears to the ground, chanting a war cry of protection. I hoped too many of them didn’t get shot.
As they receded down the hill, a gap among the
m traveled up through the crowd, like a ship cutting a wave through turbulent seas. Three people appeared in the path, walking side by side. I smiled with gratitude and regret as Dylan, Callin, and Murdock entered the stone circle.
“You didn’t have to come, Dylan,” I said.
He shrugged, no longer wearing the Rand glamour but still in his uniform. “I didn’t have to do a lot of things, Con, but I always had your back.”
Callin looked tired but not weak. His left arm was bound across his chest with bandages, but his head was bare. A thick scar ran across his forehead. “What are you doing out of the hospital, Cal?” I asked.
He grinned, that shit-eating grin that charmed and infuriated. “I heard my little bro picked himself a fight. You didn’t think I’d sit that out, did you?”
“I hoped you would,” I said.
He scratched at his head. “Yeah, well, I never did live up to your expectations.”
A bubble of emotion formed in my chest. I didn’t want to let it break free. With two long strides, I had my arms wrapped around my brother. Even with his one arm, he had a grip like a steel vise. He smelled of wood soot and essence-fire. I kissed him on the side of his neck and whispered in his ear. “You’re the greatest druid in the whole world, big bro.”
He pushed me away, his eyes glassy as he surveyed the Common. “A drink would come in handy about now.”
Murdock and I stared at each other. I didn’t know what to say. After all this time, after everything that had happened, this man stood by my side. He didn’t do it because some crazy dwarf convinced him. He didn’t do it because he was using me as part of some crazy scheme. He did it because he thought it was right. When I was at the worst point in my life, he saw something in me that no one else did, something that made him my friend. I couldn’t explain it. I doubted he could. All I knew was that I had never met anyone who deserved my gratitude more than he did. I held my hand out, and he took it.
A light formed in the sky over downtown, a glow that flickered with rage and omen. A deep rumble rolled through the air. The essence light downtown rippled and brightened, moving toward the Common. Pink essence flashed in front of me, and Joe somersaulted out of it, naked as the day he was born.
“Did I miss the party?” he asked.
“It’s about to start,” I said.
48
The sky burst across the eastern horizon, a radiant glow that trembled against my skin. Rank upon rank of Dananns filled the air, row upon row of vibrant wings humming with power. A streak of white at their head marked the vanguard of the High Queen’s Fianna and, at their center, the fierce silver star of Maeve herself.
They swept into the sky, higher and higher, an astounding host of fey. Maeve had emptied Tara—and Germany and France and everywhere else—and brought all her forces here, to this place, for her final victory.
Joe laughed nervously beside me. “I don’t think we have enough cups for all these guests.”
“We’ll have to manage,” I said.
The earth trembled. In the empty space between the stone circle and ranks of the People of the Way, the ground heaved like waves. Cracks appeared, dirt spewing upward as the vibrations radiated outward. A crevasse opened, deep and lit with green light. Something large moved within it, swelling up from the depths. A misshapen head appeared, wide and grim, on a long neck. The troll planted his enormous hands on the ground and hauled himself up beneath the dark sky.
Behind him, the crevasse boiled with more essence, a strange stew of colors that pulsed with a regular rhythm. More figures scrambled out of the hidden tunnels beneath the Common. A cloud of green light blossomed, and Eorla rose from the earth, a shining emerald star. The solitaries gathered beneath her, then spread along the field with fire in their eyes.
“She does know how to make an entrance,” Dylan said.
“So does Bastian,” I said.
On buildings around the Common, elven archers appeared, on hotels and apartments and the towering high-rises in the Back Bay. The rooflines blazed with the green of ready elf-shot pointed at the sky. I didn’t think he’d come. I thought he’d wait it out, let the Celts destroy each other and pick over the leftovers. Instead, he had gathered the Alfheim in the city and joined the stand against Maeve.
It wasn’t enough. Maeve had us outnumbered and outgunned. We were a slaughter waiting to happen. I had nothing more than a hope and a prayer that I would be able to stop it.
The front edge of the Dananns dipped as the lead warriors descended. The Fianna and archdruids landed, Brion Mal at their head, and formed a loose arc facing me. Behind him, Keeva brought down the Boston Guildhouse troops. Her stoic look told me she knew her coming betrayal would do little to stop the carnage.
With her court in full array, Maeve descended, her wings rippling with swirls of gold and silver. She wore her helm, black leather and silver filigree, and held her scepter of office. She landed several feet away, confident and calm. She pointed the scepter at the ground. “Submit,” she said.
I tilted my head and gave her a lopsided smile. “A hundred years ago, I refused that order, Maeve. Nothing’s changed.”
“Your memory has returned?” she asked.
I met her eyes, knowing she would see the depth of knowledge there, the glitter of an Old One. “And I remember telling you how certain treasures could accomplish your goal if they could be found.”
“You didn’t have the power to stop me then. You don’t have it now,” she said.
I tightened my grip on the sword, the faith stone burning on the blade. I held my other hand out, and the spear materialized. “I didn’t have these then,” I said.
With a dismissive gesture, she thrust her hand out. The spear shuddered in my hand but stayed. The four treasures together in my hands gave me the power to resist hers. The confidence on Maeve’s face faltered. “I have only to give the word, and my forces will decimate your collection of traitors. If you keep the spear, their blood will be on your hands, not mine.”
I shook my head. “You’re going to kill them all anyway, Maeve. Do you think I’ve learned nothing about you? Why do you think I hid the humans from you? When they abandoned you in Faerie, you were going to kill them all. I remember now. Slaughter is your only solution to opposition.”
Her attention lifted over my head. I hesitated, feeling a little silly that she might be pulling the look-behind-you trick, then turned to follow her gaze. Out of the west, the sky burned blue, blue like indigo, like the deepest well of the ocean. Like the Dead. At their head, Ceridwen rode the dream mare on its cloud of smoke and embers. Her red cape flared in the wind of her passage, her great antlered helm warning everyone from the path of the Hunter of the Dead. And the Dead followed after her, the Dead of the ages, elf and fairy, dwarf and druid, all adversaries in life, now united in death.
The People of the Way withdrew, opening their formation as the Hunter came through. Ceridwen and her followers took up position, their smaller numbers in the face of the Danann host made up for by the fear they instilled in the people around them.
Ceridwen reined in the dream mare next to me. Maeve narrowed her eyes, a sensing pulse emanating from her face. Ceridwen surprised her by thrusting the scan back with her hand.
“I have met the King of the Dead. You are not the true Hunter,” Maeve said.
“No, I am not he, but I am a hunter who has found her prey,” Ceridwen said. She removed her helm, letting her thick red braids fall to her waist, as she dismounted. The Dananns behind Maeve shifted in place, surprised to see one of their own come back from the Dead.
I felt a tug as Ceridwen called the spear with a mental command. Curious, I let it go. The spear hovered through the air and into her grasp. She thrust her arm up. “I hold the Spear of Truth. I am Ceridwen, underQueen of the Seelie Court. I was betrayed into my death at the order of the High Queen.”
Brion Mal stepped forward, anger sending flashes of red swirling through his wings. “What druid trick is this?”
Ceridwen approached Mal. My breath caught as the two faced each other, the same resolute brow, keen gaze, and royal bearing. “This is no trick, my liege. My blessing is upon this man. Avenge your daughter for the Seelie Court. Show the High Queen the same mercy she showed me,” Ceridwen said. As she spoke, the carnelian ring she had given me flashed on my sword hand.
Mal looked like he was about to explode. “Ceridwen? Is it truly your shade, daughter?” Mal said.
“Aye, Father,” she said.
An astonished murmur ran through the assembled Dananns. The air rippled with sendings as Mal stalked toward Maeve. She didn’t retreat before him but held her scepter higher for all to see. “We are the High Queen. We are the Seelie Court. Do not believe this traitor’s trickery. Ceridwen underQueen died at his hand.”
Mal raised the hilt of his sword to his face, pointing the blade upward. A red burst of essence flashed on his own hand, revealing a ring. The ring on my finger responded by flaring brighter. They were matched. “You lie, Maeve,” he said. “This man holds the blessing of Clan Mal in his hand. You have broken faith with your own people. You have denied yourself the right to our arms at your side.”
He lifted his sword straight up and rose in the air. Sendings vibrated in the air as Mal sent orders out to his followers. The Fianna lifted into the air after him. Bank after bank of Dananns disengaged from formation and flew off toward the sea.
Keeva brought down the Guildhouse contingent and arrayed them behind me. In a flash of white light, Manus ap Eagan appeared next to Keeva. He didn’t appear triumphant, but saddened. “It pains me that you lost your way, Maeve. Abdicate, and this is over.”
Maeve held her hand toward him, palm outward. “I name you traitor to the crown, Manus ap Eagan, and strip you of all your rights, titles, and privileges.”
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