Annoyance gripped me. “You must know the talisman might not choose the next heir as its wielder. It has as much of a will of its own as anyone else does.”
“The talisman is not a living being,” she said. “You will agree to these terms or your family will not be protected from harm. I might remind you that a large number of the other Sidhe believe you should be executed or imprisoned for the crime of betraying the Summer Court.”
Damn her. She might have lived for a few centuries, but neither she nor Lord Raivan belonged to the generation of Sidhe who’d seen the gods walk among them and knew the precise origin of the talisman’s power. Lord Kerien had been the oldest Sidhe in the Court I’d known, aside from the Erlking, and both were dead now.
In fact, the only Sidhe I knew of who’d lived as long as the Erlking had were the Seelie Queen and Etaina, leader of the Aes Sidhe. I would prefer not to have to appeal to either of them to help me out if the Sidhe tried to take the talisman away, but it’d be nice if someone reliable showed up to take it off my hands. Maybe the next leader of Summer would be like the Erlking, able to tame and control its power without succumbing to temptation.
Or maybe the talisman would refuse to give up its current wielder without a fight.
Chills raced down my spine. I couldn’t risk pissing off the Sidhe again, but Lady Aiten wasn’t kidding when she said my family and I were all at risk as long as I remained an outsider. Some of the Sidhe already believed the Gatekeeper’s position was obsolete, and if the next monarch agreed, we’d be unceremoniously kicked out for good this time. Others might support my position as Gatekeeper, but the idea of a human wielding a Sidhe’s talisman was more than most could bear. Humans weren’t supposed to be able to use faerie magic at all, let alone a staff which had once been wielded by their beloved king.
You never know. They might have a change of heart when there’s a new monarch on the throne.
I drew in a breath. “Very well. I accept the terms, with the caveat that I have no control over who the talisman selects as its wielder. If I had, I would not have claimed it myself.”
“And do you swear you will not go back on your word?”
My throat went dry. I wasn’t technically going back on my word if the talisman decided not to listen to me, right?
“I swear.”
An invisible force tugged at something deep inside me, the power of the binding spell connecting me to Lady Aiten. Faerie vows backfired if disobeyed, often with fatal consequences. If I didn’t at least try to surrender the talisman, the vow would rip me to pieces, but there was always a way around a binding if you found a loophole. And if the talisman itself was set on keeping me alive, Lady Aiten wouldn’t be able to prise it from my hands without risking the backlash hitting her.
“There.” I clenched my hand over the talisman’s hilt to distract myself from the unpleasant tugging sensation in my chest. “That’s done. Should I resume my place by the doors, or is there somewhere else you want me to stand?”
“The doors will do.” Her gaze fixed on a point over my shoulder. “The heirs have arrived.”
She swept across the hall and through the oak doors, descending the steps outside the entrance. I, meanwhile, retook my position opposite Coral on the inside and waited for the heirs to enter.
“Have the Sidhe ever considered that the reason they have so many so-called traitors is because of the impossible promises they make everyone swear?” Coral murmured.
“That would require having any sense of self-awareness whatsoever.” I watched the procession of new arrivals enter the palace. All were Sidhe nobles, a mixture of genders and ages, though it was hard to tell a Sidhe’s age from outside appearances. The only features they all had in common were their towering height and bright Summer eyes. A female warrior wearing armour textured like overlapping scales walked beside a tall male Sidhe with crow feathers patterning his armoured coat. They were all dressed for war, some carrying swords, others knives or staffs or crossbows, and all were sharp-edged and deadly as their weapons.
One of these people would be the next ruler of the Summer Court.
The Erlking’s sprite fluttered into the centre of the hall. His voice echoed from the high ceilings as he addressed the assembled Sidhe. “You have been invited here by the Erlking himself to compete for the honour of sitting on the throne of the Summer Court. The winner of these trials will wear the Erlking’s crown.”
“And the losers?” asked the female Sidhe with the scaled armour.
“One alone will stand victorious,” Swift proclaimed. “There will be three rounds of trials. Half of the competitors will be eliminated in the first round. In the second, the remaining contestants will be whittled down to the sixteen best, while the final round will end with only one victor.”
“Damn, he’s pretty good at this,” I said to Coral in an undertone.
“He worked for the Erlking,” she said. “Probably saw him making dramatic speeches for years.”
“Not sure he did much of that,” I reminded her. “World-destroying talisman, remember?”
“Good point.”
Though given the sprite’s words yesterday, I was starting to suspect that the Erlking had played on the talisman’s fearsome reputation both to keep himself safe from being challenged and to ensure nobody disturbed him. Which was fair enough. Ilsa had remarked that she’d often been tempted to do the same if she wanted to finish a good book without being interrupted. Being alone for a few hundred years was a bit excessive, but who was I to judge?
“The first test will begin momentarily,” Swift said. “It is intended to eliminate those whose temperaments aren’t becoming of a ruler.”
“Temperaments?” I whispered. “Does he mean people who won’t throw tantrums when they don’t get their way?”
Almost all the Sidhe I’d met had been volatile by nature, but I would feel much easier about handing over the talisman if I knew the person wouldn’t use it to slaughter anyone who didn’t agree with them. The monarch’s main goal was to ensure peace and prosperity. Thank the gods the Erlking had understood that, at least.
Murmurs travelled through the group of gathering Sidhe. Then Lady Aiten spoke. “The palace is already set up for the first trial, which will take place here and now. Your goal is to reach the doors behind me.”
My body tensed in anticipation as a wave of magic swept through the hall. Coral and I grabbed the handles of the oak doors for balance when the floor slid backwards, the statues and fountains folding back as though the whole room was nothing more than a cardboard model.
When the palace ground to a halt, I let go of the door handle and stared down into an enormous pit dominating the space where the floor had once been. The contestants stood within the arena below, while Lady Aiten and the other non-participants gathered around the edges.
A rumbling sensation beneath my feet prompted me to grab the door handle again. Rows of stone seats appeared in tiers, coliseum-style, surrounding the pit. Coral exclaimed as the doors flew from our grip, opening to allow a swarm of Sidhe to enter. Head swimming, I held onto the staff for balance, while a tide of finely dressed courtiers filled the stands around the arena, accompanied by attendant hobgoblins and piskies and sprites. Lord Niall swaggered in, taking a seat in a central row, and cups of elf wine appeared in the hands of everyone around him. Luckily, they were too interested in the arena to notice me standing by the doors.
Speaking of which, the world outside the doors looked the same as ever. Only the inside of the palace had changed. The steady flow of guests petered out, and the doors closed behind me, prompting me to turn back to the arena. The Erlking’s sprite flitted above a podium on the highest tier, where Lady Aiten stood overlooking the curving seats surrounding the pit.
Below, hedges had sprouted from the floor in zigzagging patterns around the contestants, turning the arena into a vast maze, while the doors that had once led onto the back lawn of the palace had dropped to ground level along with the contes
tants.
“Let the test begin,” said Lady Aiten.
May the best Sidhe win.
3
The Sidhe in the arena below remained still for a moment, as though adjusting to the sudden change of surroundings. The hedges were tall enough to tower above their heads, and within, dark shapes moved among the leaves. I tensed, my hand on the talisman. If an outside force attacked them within the maze, I wasn’t convinced I’d reach them in time, unless the sudden distance between us was an illusion. And how was I supposed to tell if the threat was part of the test or not?
“There will be no outside threats within the maze,” Lady Aiten said, as though sensing my thoughts. “The contestants will face various obstacles, but your job is to watch for threats on the outside. There’s no way into the palace aside from the doors behind you.”
“Uh-huh.” I looked around, marvelling at the utter transformation of the entrance hall. If the arena was just an illusion, it was almost worthy of the Aes Sidhe. “Why hold the contest in the palace? It’s an obvious target.”
“The tests must take place on neutral territory that doesn’t belong to any individual Sidhe,” she explained. “This is the only way to ensure nobody interferes.”
Ah. Some of the Sidhe might well have tried to manipulate the tests if they’d been held elsewhere. There was a good reason the Erlking hadn’t opted to have a vote based on popularity, considering the racket coming from the row where Lord Niall sat with his group of cronies.
Swift landed on my shoulder. “The task is beginning.”
I followed his line of sight to the maze. Rippling hedges formed dark walls between winding paths, and only one route led to the doors at the back. From ground level, the way out wouldn’t be obvious at all.
“What’s the test?” I asked. “Reach the doors and don’t get killed on the way?”
“Before the test began,” said the sprite, “half the Sidhe in the maze were given keys to the door. The other half were not.”
“Really?” I frowned. “Doesn’t that give half the Sidhe an advantage over the others?”
“The choice was random,” the sprite went on. “Only one who holds the key is able to get out of the maze.”
Still not getting it. I glanced down again. Some of the Sidhe had begun to advance through the maze, but others remained oddly still. “Are they under a spell?”
“They are,” Coral said, pointing at the male Sidhe immediately below us. His body had frozen to the spot as though caught in a Winter Sidhe’s magic. “What caused that? I didn’t see.”
He wasn’t the only one. All over the maze, the Sidhe stilled, their bodies locking in place, as though an unseen spell pinned them to the spot. Within a minute or two, it became clear about half the Sidhe in the maze were stuck under the spell, while the others were free to find their way through the labyrinth unhindered.
I looked down at the sprite. “It’s the keys, isn’t it? Half the Sidhe have the keys, but they can’t move. The other half can move but they can’t get out.”
Coral pointed. “That guy’s already at the door, look.”
A male Sidhe with pale skin and long silky dark hair had reached the pair of oak doors at the back. As he touched the door handle, a flare of vibrant green light blasted him off his feet, sending him flying into the hedge. He sprang upright and tried again, with the same result.
“Yeah, he’s not cut out to be a ruler,” I said. “Let me guess… he doesn’t have a key.”
The Sidhe had finally figured out the door wasn’t going to open for him. He turned down the left-hand path, towards the spot where one of the other Sidhe stood frozen on the spot. For a moment, he stood still, examining his fellow Sidhe. Then he reached for something gleaming in the statue-like Sidhe’s hand. The key.
In one decisive move, the Sidhe took the key from the other man’s hand. At once, his own body locked into position, freezing mid-motion. The Sidhe he’d stolen from, meanwhile, stirred, his hand dropping to his side. Shaking off the spell’s remnants, he edged around the newly trapped Sidhe.
“Oh.” I nodded in understanding. “The Sidhe have to cooperate to get out of the maze. The half who are carrying the keys can’t move, and can’t give up the keys, either. If someone tries to steal it, they end up frozen themselves.”
“So the non-frozen Sidhe have to take a frozen companion with them to get out of the maze?” asked Coral. “There’s got to be another catch there. How are you going to eliminate exactly half the competitors?”
“Wait and see,” said the sprite.
“I get where the Erlking was coming from,” I said. “A ruler who acts rashly and thoughtlessly isn’t going to last long. Nor is one who tries to steal from others rather than winning fairly.”
“Or who throws parties while there’s a war on,” added Coral, with a meaningful look at Lord Niall. He and his friends weren’t even paying attention to the task, too intent on swapping outrageous stories.
“Bet he organises the after-party,” I muttered. “Does the task have a time limit?”
“The maze is enchanted to vanish in one hour,” said Lady Aiten. “Those who are left behind will be disqualified. If nobody makes it outside, then a second test will be devised to lower the numbers.”
One of the Sidhe had figured it out. He waved a hand, levitating his frozen companion into the air, and carrying him along through the maze’s winding paths. As they rounded a corner, the maze’s walls moved, leaves rustling together and swallowing both Sidhe whole.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “That’s not fair. What did he do wrong?”
“He didn’t watch his step,” said Lady Aiten.
And you could do better, could you?
The hedges had claimed a few more victims, forming barriers to halt the Sidhe in their tracks. Some tried to cut the bushes down, only to end up ensnared twice as fast. Others tried to use their Summer magic to force the hedges to bend to their will and let them through, but the hedges always moved back into place, taking their prey along with them.
Other Sidhe were out to make trouble. Two of them attempted to use their bare hands to break down the doors rather than finding a Sidhe with a key to aid them, but the resulting blast sent them flying back into the hedges. Only the keys planted on the frozen Sidhe would allow anyone to leave the maze at all, and if anyone tried to cheat, they found themselves unceremoniously thrown into a hedge or frozen into an unmoving statue.
After ten minutes or so had passed, Lady Aiten stiffened. “That is not part of the task.”
Her sharp eyes fixed on a point where a dark shape hovered above the maze. Wraith.
I took a step forward. “I can’t reach it from here. Not without causing a scene, anyway.”
The audience’s attention was fixed on the maze and none of them seemed to have noticed the intruder yet. Inside the maze, meanwhile, the Sidhe carried on making their way to the exits, oblivious to the dark form hovering above their heads. When Lady Aiten had claimed there were no ways in or out of the palace aside from the doors, she hadn’t accounted for ghostly forms which could pass through walls.
Coral drew her knife. “That’s a wraith, right? Can it hurt the contenders?”
“Depends what its magic was like when it was still alive.”
Wraiths were rarely as powerful as the Sidhe they’d once been, but nobody in the arena would see the threat until it descended on them. Those who were frozen were completely undefended, and if the wraith caused them to lose the challenge, it wouldn’t be a fair way to get eliminated.
“Someone must stop that creature!” Swift insisted. “If they don’t, it will disrupt the task and invalidate the results.”
“This is unacceptable,” said Lady Aiten. “If the task is ruined, there will be no second chances, and I will not allow the outcasts to have a say in who we elect as our new ruler.”
Yeah, but I can’t stop it without the talisman. Problem was, the shadows might well devour the maze as well as the wraith if I wasn’t
careful. And just where had it come from? “Did it get in from outside? Because I can’t watch the doors at the same time.”
“No.” Lady Aiten’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. “The palace is guarded on the outside. The doorway to the Vale must lie within the maze itself.”
One of the contestants did it. The thought banished any notions of avoiding using the talisman inside the maze. If the doorway remained open, much worse than a single wraith might infiltrate the challenge. The Seelie Queen herself, for instance.
“I might not be able to reach it without the talisman interfering with the magic of the maze itself,” I warned her. “Do you want to risk it?”
“Do it,” she ordered. “If the task is disrupted by this wraith, the results will become irrelevant, and we cannot reset the spell now it’s already in motion. The trial must go ahead as planned.”
So be it. I climbed into the row of seats below, landing between two finely dressed Sidhe. They recoiled from my staff with outraged expressions.
“Don’t panic!” I moved to the edge of the tier. “I just have a little security issue to take care of.”
The wraith hovered above the arena, a cloud of darkness wreathed in icy magic. The talisman hummed in my hand, reacting to the presence of the magic sustaining the arena. I mentally pleaded with it to stay calm and not react until I got to the wraith.
Keeping one eye on the intruder, I climbed down to another row of seats. One of Lord Niall’s buddies damn near elbowed me in the face and I gave him a firm shove as I passed by, unwittingly causing him to tumble headfirst into the row below. The resulting chaos distracted everyone from the human awkwardly climbing through the stands, and as a bonus, stopped them from noticing the wraith’s hovering form. When I reached the ground, however, the wraith was no longer visible to me. I’d need to enter the maze to stand a chance of banishing it, let alone closing the doorway.
The shadows from my staff licked eagerly at the magic fuelling the hedges, and I gave a sharp tug, demanding they stay put. Not the time, talisman.
The Gatekeeper's Trials: The Complete Trilogy Page 46