Fey Born

by R. Garland Gray

  Up ahead, she paused to capture her breath, her palm resting in the center of her breasts.

  He hurried to her side, alarmed by her pallor. “Lana?”

  “I am fine,” she wheezed, her eyes closing, eyelashes splaying against cheeks gone suddenly pale, shutting him out. He could see her straining, laboring for each breath. He hated this feeling of helplessness, this inability to fix what was broken within her. Hands clenched at his sides, he stood beside her in silent support, waiting for her to regain her breath. The wait felt eternal to him, the wheezing sounds slowly ending, but not soon enough. He reached out to touch her back, to soothe away the tension of forcing air into her body.

  Her eyes cracked open and he dropped his hand.

  “Do you feel better?” he asked, studying her face.

  She nodded shakily. “Aye, this one took me by surprise.”

  “You know when this thing, this weakness, happens?”

  “Aye, sometimes my body gives me warning. The weakness comes upon me slowly and I can find a place to sit and rest. This time it came fast and unannounced.”

  “What does it…?” He stopped, realizing he should not be asking a question such as this.

  “What does it feel like? Is that what you want to know?”

  He nodded guiltily.

  “I doona mind answering your questions, Keegan.” She smiled brightly at him, her eyes glassy with fatigue. “My heart pounds rapidly in my chest, sometimes with pain arching in my left shoulder and down my arm. Sometimes there is no pain, only the stealing of my breath like being strangled by invisible hands around my throat. I am tired most of the time, but since I know no other way of living, I doona miss being in fine health. I used to resent the other girls in the village, wishing to be included in their friendships. It is not that they treated me poorly, only…” She paused to catch a breath. “They were so careful around me, afraid my weakness might spill onto them.”

  “That is why you were alone most often when I saw you.”

  She nodded. “I have my own friends though. Derina, Lightning, the sea, and the sky.”

  He looked over to the northern hills, concealing his resentment at her seclusion. “You have a brave spirit,” he said grimly, and meant it.

  “I am not brave, Keegan.”

  “More than you know.” He cleared his throat, finding his chest tight with feelings for her. “Lana, do you head toward Knowth as the spriggan said?”

  “What is Knowth?”

  “A sacred passage tomb.”

  “I doona know my path, Keegan. I only know…” She shook her head in denial. “I doona really know where we go. There is a single thread inside me, pulling me north, yet I am unsure of even that. Why do you ask?”

  “If it were Knowth, I could take us there now and save time. One of my fey kin has visited me. She gives warning invaders are coming to our shores. We must find Valor within a month’s time.” He turned back to her. The shadows under her night-hued eyes made her look even more fragile than before. The journey sapped what little strength she had to give him.

  “Knowth,” she said in slow thoughtfulness and then smiled. “Aye, Keegan, let us go there.”

  He moved close to her and rested his hands on her slender waist.

  “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

  Reaching up, she linked her hands behind his neck. Her breasts pressed into his chest.

  “Doona fear,” he said softly.

  “I doona fear, Keegan. We are together.”

  “Aye,” he agreed, and closed his eyes.

  Lana held on to him while a soft white light illuminated the air all around her.

  A muted silence came to her ears and then a strange coolness…

  She sucked in her breath. In the next instant, she stood near a great bend in a river.

  Her guardian mate stepped back from her and said simply, “Knowth.”

  Shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight, Lana stared at a large mound of earth.

  “Knowth?” she murmured, filling her senses with the awe-inspiring sight.

  The hill, or mound, as the land formations were sometimes called, was large and oval. Around its perimeter lay great carved stones, one after another, each decorated with scrolls and lines that seemed to link the mound to the sun and stars. Smaller mounds surrounded its perimeter and Lana counted seventeen in all.

  “Is the sword here, Lana?”

  “I am not sure.”

  “Is it below?”

  She turned to her guardian mate. “Below what?”

  “Knowth is a double passage tomb, Lana.” He pointed to the mound. “There are entrances both east and west within her. The sunrises and sunsets of the land spill into those pathways, marking the ways to our Otherworld.”

  She had not considered that, had not considered the sword would be in a mysterious and magical place. The Otherworld, rarely accessible to mortals, belonged to the olden deities. It was a place of enchanted halls and beautiful hills and valleys, existing below the lands and seas. Those mortals allowed to enter through a magic tree or waterfall spoke of living in perfect harmony. She often wondered if the Otherworld was truly real. Now she knew.

  “Lana, what do you sense?” her guardian mate asked, bringing her out of her ruminations.

  She looked over her shoulder. Tall grasses swept before the shore of the river. It felt like they had come too far.

  “Lana?”

  She chewed her lip and looked up at him. “I doona know. The sword feels closer to me, but I am unsure.”

  “Let us enter Knowth then and see her pathways with our own eyes. I will not leave this place until I am sure.” He took her hand and for the first time in their journey, he led the way.

  Lana forced down a wave of apprehension. The soil rose up in front of them, marking a steep incline. The sun was bright in the sky, almost blinding. She held tightly to his hand, struggling to keep up with his pace.

  They walked beyond a single limestone pillar standing outside the eastern passage and entered the dark coolness of Knowth. The light of day retreated behind them. Her guardian led her along a path of sod and clay and into shadows and dimness. An eerie purple light lit the way ahead of them, and there was an offensive smell to the air, as if something had died. The walls were beautifully decorated with spirals and faceted droplets and the stone ceilings were high above their heads.

  “This path be a fey place, too?” she inquired, slightly in awe. After all, she had never walked down into the below depths of the land before.

  “Aye.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Do you smell that?”

  “ ‘Tis the taint of fey spitefulness you smell. The faeries doona like mortals trespassing on what they consider theirs.”

  “Do we trespass here, Keegan?”

  “We do, but I would see all of Knowth’s ways, so I know that Valor is not here.”

  They walked a short while, ever downward, and came upon an empty cruciform chamber. Lana did not like the feel of the place.

  “Wait here.” Her guardian mate let go of her hand and approached a smooth flat stone embedded in the wall of the east corner.

  She rubbed her arms to ward off the chill and followed.

  A thin stream of water trickled from a crevice above the flat stone, followed by a seeping white mist. Upon closer inspection, she could see an etching of scrolls in its center.

  “What is it?” she inquired, coming up beside him.

  “A doorway to the Otherworld. The water marks its entrance. It is seen only by the fey born.” He glanced at her. “Do you see it?”

  “I see a flat gray stone with some sort of carvings, water, and mist.”

  “You see it then.”

  Her guardian mate turned back, a sudden tension stiffening his body.

  “Lana, go back,” he warned.

  “Why?” she asked, taking a step back. Her gaze darted to the flat stone and trickle of water. She was not afraid to face danger.

  “Go back
now!” he roared.

  Metamorphosing to his true form, Keegan took the brunt of the attack from the two white faeries emerging from the fey entry. He brought the fight into the air. They were as swift and strong as he was, their skin tinted the palest of white shades, marking a lineage to the oldest of the fey born.

  Slamming into the ceiling of the chamber, he grunted and fought back. Wings battering, rocks cutting into his right shoulder, he smelled their hatred, their dark eyes pulsing with blood lust. He swung his right arm up and caught the smaller one in the neck, gaining a momentary reprieve.

  “You die today, guardian,” the larger, white-haired one said, pulling out a Darkshade dagger. “Hold him.”

  Twisting, Keegan blocked the thrust of the dagger to his mid-section and punched the smaller brown-haired faery full in the face. In the corner of his eye, he saw something move below, a shadow darting across the floor…

  Without thought, his free hand came up, reaching for the mortal sword strapped between his wings. It left him open to attack.

  White-hot pain slashed across his stomach where they cut him with the dagger. He struck out blindly, knocking the mystical dagger out of the faery’s hand; it tumbled below.

  His stomach awash with fire, he doubled over and pulled his wings in protectively. Dropping fast to the ground, he took the more aggressive white-haired faery with him. The pain made him angry. They landed hard on stone and sod. Freeing himself, he rolled and climbed quickly to his feet. In the next instant, the mortal sword was poised for battle in his hands.

  “Lana!” he bellowed, searching for her.

  “Here!”

  He turned. Locked in the arms of a third faery, his bride fought for all she was worth. Her face set with fierce resolve, her right hand came up in a stinging slap, slicing a cut in the fey born’s cheek as she once unintentionally did to him. It was a mark of her true dark destiny. Her captor reared back in surprise and she kneed him in the groin, gaining her release. She was free and running to him. “Keegan!”

  Launching himself toward her, he scooped her up despite his stomach wound and headed back the way they had come.

  “Hold on, Lana.” He had to capture one of the faeries and question him. He would not wink out to safety and chance them not following. Instead, he would draw them out.

  Lana did not understand why he did not wink them outside. “Keegan!” she cried, “they follow us.”

  “Good,” he replied. “I want them to.”

  Powerful wings lifted and carried them through the tunnel. Heart pounding violently in her chest, the swish of air pummeling her face, Lana clung to him. She was dimly aware of the ground rising up, then sunlight kissed her face.

  “Let go, Lana.”

  Her guardian pulled her arms free and she dropped safely to the ground, rolling easily to her feet in the tall grasses.

  The sound of wings and shrieks of rage broke the silence behind them. Shielding her eyes, she looked up and watched in horror as her guardian rose toward a pair of furious winged faeries. Locked in battle, they plunged like battling kestrels into the blue sky.

  Sensing danger, Lana looked to the east entrance of the tomb. The third faery with the bloody cheek spotted her. Wings beating, he leaped in her direction. Jumping to her feet, Lana reached for the nearest weapon, a jagged hand-sized rock. With single-minded determination to bash the attacker in the head, she gripped the stone in her right hand.

  “THINK THAT STOPS ME?” her white-skinned stalker taunted with a snarl.

  If she were going to die, she would die fighting. The faery circled her, a smile of menace lighting its face.

  “TIME TO DIE, SWORD HOST.”

  It lunged, big hands reaching for her throat.

  Legs braced, wheezing faintly, Lana flung her rock at the faery’s head, but it was all for naught.

  To her stunned amazement, the point of a sword stuck out of her attacker’s chest. The faery landed on his knees, wings scrunched up, dark eye’s glazed with astonishment. She watched it shudder and then drop, face smashing into the ground in death.

  She stared at Keegan’s sword, at the sunbeams reflecting off the blade. It stood upright out of the faery’s back, wobbling slightly, having been flung from the reaches of the sky.

  “Keegan,” she said in sudden realization. He had no weapon.

  Shaking off her fright, she ran over, grabbed the sword hilt and yanked it upward. The sword slid out of the fey flesh easily.

  Adjusting her grip, she held the bloodstained blade out in front of her. It felt like an extension of her arms. It felt right in her hands, strong and able and deadly.

  She should not be able to wield a weighty weapon made for a strong healthy male.

  But she could.

  She knew she could.

  In the inner reaches of her mind and body, she tapped into what lay dormant within her and turned toward the battle raging above.

  Her lungs no longer struggling for breath, she moved under the fight. Here on the ground, she became a true sword host, magical, courageous, resolute, a formidable fighter. Her focus intense and unflinching, she waited, fiercely determined to save her mate. When the fight in the sky moved toward the riverbanks, she followed at a dead run.

  Head ringing from a punch to the jaw, Keegan swung out and tore at the fragile tissue of the left wing of the larger faery. The scream that followed nearly pierced his eardrums. Writhing in pain, the injured faery jerked off him and tumbled in upon itself, plunging toward the damp shores of the river below.

  Without getting a moment’s breath, Keegan turned to meet the remaining attacker and flinched when a dagger sliced his upper arm. The brown-haired one was quicker than he was and knew it. He was running out of strength, the deep gash in his stomach dripping blood down his loins to his thighs. He had to finish this one off quickly and then stop the white-haired one before it got to Lana. He pulled his wings in close and let the sudden weight of him pull them both down.

  On the ground, Lana did not wait for the white-haired faery to rise to its feet. As its head and shoulders lifted from where it lay, she swung and chopped the head off at the neck with one swing.

  Pivoting on her heel, she searched the sky. Out of the clouds, her guardian plummeted, twirling and locked in battle with their third attacker. They hit the edge of the riverbank hard, muddy water splashing in the air from their impact.

  Tearing through the tall grasses, Lana held the deadly sword above her head.

  She saw Keegan was badly hurt. The taste of bitter fury filled her mouth. Swinging with all the force within her, she decapitated the third faery, the severed head landing at her feet.

  Lying on his back, Keegan froze, splattered in white blood.

  He blinked, trying to clear his vision.

  The body of a headless faery lay atop him and his claíomh host bride stood above him holding his sword in a death grip. Her eyes were feral with the battle rage seen in the eyes of warrior men, and she was streaked in faery blood.

  “Lana?” he said quietly, battling pain.

  She was breathing heavily, her blond hair a mess about her shoulders. She did not seem to recognize him.

  “Lana, put the sword down.”

  She held it as if she would take off his head, too.

  “It is done. Put the sword down, Lana.”

  “Keegan?” she grated out, and he saw reason returning. She abandoned the sword near his shoulder.

  “Aye, my trusty warrior.” He grunted, and his head fell back into the sucking muck. “I wanted to question one of them about Valor.”

  Reaching over, he shoved the dead weight of the faery off him. The creature had retrieved the Darkshade dagger from Knowth and attempted to stab him with it. He tossed the deadly mystical dagger behind his head and into the moving river.

  “The one chasing me on the ground called me a sword host.”

  Clenching his jaw, he stared down his blood stained body, trying to see the stomach wound. “They attacked us because they
knew we sought Valor,” he rasped. “But how?”

  “Someone must have alerted them.”

  Those were his thoughts exactly. “Very few know of this quest.” His head fell back. The faces of those who knew of the quest flashed in his mind. The King, Lugh, Blodenwedd, Derina… the spriggan.

  “One of them,” she murmured as if reading his thoughts.

  “Aye, one of them.” He trusted all except the spriggan.

  “Keegan, how badly are you hurt?”

  Bad. His vision began to fade. “Lana, you must listen to me.” He felt himself sinking into cold darkness. “You must leave me. Avoid Cadman. He is not to be trusted. Find Valor and return her to the faery king.”

  “I will not leave you,” she said stubbornly from some place far away.

  He wanted to shake her into doing his bidding, but the wash of pain came again. It flowed into the pores of his flesh, stealing his strength. “Lana, find Valor.” The all-consuming darkness covered him in the next breath and his eyes fluttered closed.

  “Keegan?” Lana cried out in alarm. “Nay!”

  She had to get help. Jumping to her feet in a panic, she wavered on the slippery incline of the riverbank and then fell to her side. Whatever courage and strength possessed her earlier fell away into nonexistence. Fighting weakly, she slid several man lengths down in the slick mud, the flowing river creeping over her ankles like icy manacles. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an iridescent shine, a dragonfly hovering in watchful silence. Fighting for breath, she collapsed into muck and oblivion, fainting dead away near her gravely injured mate.

  CHAPTER 10

  SHE FELT UNEXPECTEDLY WARM AND comfortable, given the fact she was dead.

  She was dead, was she not?

  At least, she expected to be dead.

  Licking dry lips, Lana peered up into a world of soft pink light and smooth rock formations. She wondered where the blue sky and puffy white clouds had gone. She blinked several times, her mind slowly focusing.

  She was in a cave, she thought. Long needle-like aragonite and flowery white quartz crystals were high above her head. In a limestone recess to her right, a white spider waited in the center of a pale web, her gray legs nearly invisible among the cream and amber icicles.