Fey Born

by R. Garland Gray

  Looking through her eyelashes, she let her breath out slowly. Carefully, she looked about to make sure no others watched her.

  The chamber appeared empty.

  Rolling to her side, she attempted to climb to her feet only to find her ankles bound together.

  “Not go,” a craggy voice commanded from above her.

  Startled, Lana looked up, searching for the owner of the voice.

  “Tied your ankles together.”

  On a jutting ledge several feet above, a creature with a big head looked down upon her. Lana could see dull white hair falling in limp strands over large ears. He had a dirty white beard that came to a point over a bulging stomach barely contained by a straining, rock-encrusted gray coat. “Promised to watch you for Cadman.”

  Keeping a wary eye on her spriggan guard, she leaned forward, and reached for the white bindings around her ankles. They seemed loosely tied, yet she could not free her feet.

  Her frustrated groan initiated a chuckle from the creature above.

  She kicked out. “Release me.”

  He shook his head. “Fey ties unbreakable.”

  “Enough,” Cadman said, strolling back into the chamber, followed by as many as twenty faeries, mortal men, and an odd assortment of short spriggans.

  “Kill her,” one of the faeries said, and knelt in front of her, peering with the white eyes of a killer. “I do it.”

  Lana pressed back against the stone wall, a strange calm dissolving into her blood. She did not know why, but she did not fear these creatures.

  “Guardian be enraged,” a spriggan with red hair said hotly, causing a murmur among them.

  They fear Keegan, Lana thought, seeing alarm wash over their faces. All of them do, she observed, and felt a great reassurance in that.

  The spriggan with the red hair stepped forward and gestured toward the feypath. “Guardian coming.”

  “He will not find us here,” Cadman responded confidently. “I was careful to leave no trace of my presence when I winked out.”

  “FOOLISH,” another faery snarled with hard, black eyes. “FOLLOWS HER SCENT, NOT YOURS.”

  A frown crossed Cadman’s face for a moment. It was evident he had not thought of that. “It does not matter.” He waved their concern away. “Traps are in place, the guardian will never get this far, and our plans proceed as expected.” He looked at all of them. “Already Lord Bress, our true fey king, directs his Formorian ships nearer to our shores. When he lands and reclaims his throne, those loyal to him will be richly rewarded.”

  The creature kneeling in front of her asked, “ANOTHER SWORD HOST NOT DANGEROUS?”

  Lana watched as Cadman moved in front of her, forcing the white-eyed faery to rise to his feet and step back.

  “I claim her as part of my reward,” Cadman said firmly. “I took the greatest risk and stole Valor from the vaults of Tara. None of you would do it. I brought Valor to the Faery Mound of Darkness. It was my idea to place her in the black waters there. Where would you be without me?” he demanded, and then gave the answer. “Under the suffocating hand of a blemished fey king. Now go. Our time of victory draws near and we must be prepared.”

  No one moved. Instead, they spoke in hushed whispers among themselves in direct conflict with their half-blood leaders commands.

  Lana took full note of their divergence. Mayhap they did not like taking orders from a half-spriggan being. The tall, willowy faeries had the same shades of whiteness as those who attacked them earlier. The hairy spriggans, in their rock-encrusted coats, all had big, ugly heads and beady eyes. The mortal men stood apart, probably outcasts of their own tribes. These were Lord Bress’s followers.

  “I grow impatient,” Cadman remarked with irritation.

  They were all edgy, she mused, all surly and ill-mannered, with loyalty and credit given only to themselves. An army ready to fall apart. She could not fathom any other outcome with this insolent behavior.

  Cadman took a single step to his right, his back to her, his hands clenched in anger. He wore the sleeveless green tunic and breeches of the men of her tribe. His white arms were long and slender, almost feminine in shape, nothing compared to the muscular slope and contours of her guardian’s strong arms.

  She fervently wished Keegan were here. She had to tell him Valor’s location, a place called the Faery Mound of Darkness. Wherever that might be. The name sounded familiar, something Derina once said long ago, but she could not recall it. This mound of darkness had to be a fey place, she reasoned. Mayhap a hill or cavern, or another passage tomb like Knowth.

  “The longer I wait, the less treasure you will be granted,” Cadman said angrily, hands on his hips.

  For a moment, Lana did not think they would respond. She saw wavering and hesitation in some faces, and resentment and antagonism in others.

  “The guardian comes,” she remarked, adding to discord. Cadman pivoted and glared at her in warning, but she ignored him. “This guardian is among the most ancient and powerful purebreds, a great and menacing first guardian of the waters. He will not take your participation in my abduction lightly.”

  “Not Báisteach!” a spriggan sputtered, his face going deathly pale.

  Lana’s brows drew together. Báisteach meant Rain in the olden language. Rain was Keegan’s fey name. She looked at Cadman, seeking to promote the growing discord among her weak-minded kidnappers. “Cadman, you did not tell them it is Rain who tracks them? Rain,” she emphasized her guardian’s name, “the most dominant, most intolerant, and most powerful guardian of them all.”

  “It matters not,” Cadman interjected quickly.

  “If it be Báisteach,” the faery with the white eyes snarled, “not ever will he stop.”

  “He will not make it beyond my traps,” Cadman snapped back. “He will not find us here. I have thought of everything. Now do as I say and return to the Faery Mound of Darkness. Remain there until I summon you. I want our properly weakened Valor watched until Lord Bress is ready to claim her. Now go!” Cadman bellowed, pointing with his right hand.

  The fey born creatures shimmered, winking out, leaving silver shards behind them. The men left by another chamber, taking their sweat and stink with them.

  Lana wondered if the Faery Mound of Darkness was near. She looked around, seeing shadowy tunnels leading to other chambers. She had to find a way out and get word to Keegan. He would know this Faery Mound of Darkness.

  Lana looked up and suddenly found herself alone with Cadman.

  A sharp crack of pain shot through her right cheek.

  Her head reeled back from the blow, bottom lip split and bleeding. She landed hard on her right forearm, stunned. Through her stinging and watery eyes, she saw Cadman’s flushed and furious face.

  “Never speak, Lana, unless I give you permission. Do you understand? Never contradict what I have said. It is time for you to forget what you left behind. You are my slave now, and will do my bidding.”

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I am not a slave. I am freeborn.”

  “You were never freeborn. The sword spirit claimed you in your mother’s womb.”

  Lana could not argue that.

  “I see you agree with me.” He crouched down in front of her, the tension in him simmering just below the surface. “I have saved you from a dreadful destiny, Lana. Should the current host die, the sword spirit will lay her claim upon you. Your lovely white flesh will reform into the cruel slash of a magical blade, a bringer of death and oblivion. Never would you experience pleasure again, smell the scents of the salty sea in the morning, bask in the warmth of an afternoon sun, enjoy the company of friends and family, or feel the warmth of food in your belly.” A devious smile curved his lips. “Never will you ever again run your fingers through the silken mane of that old stallion you are so fond of. What is his name? Lightning, I believe. You should be grateful to me, very grateful.”

  He mocked her fears, trying to turn her into a terrified female. It made her furious.r />
  “Where is the Faery Mound of Darkness?” she demanded.

  He struck her again, just as violently, and Lana fell backward again, hitting the hard rocky ground. A thousand white lights flashed into her vision and the coppery taste of blood pooled in her mouth.

  “I dinna give you permission to speak, Lana. You have an impressive spirit for a female, but I suggest you learn to diminish it or I will do it for you.”

  She pulled herself up. “You beggarly creature,” she sneered, her heart pounding. “Do you think snatching Valor will make you great? You are nothing but a weakling, an expendable pawn of the tyrant Bress.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You know nothing of what you speak. I am his great high commander. Without me, he is nothing.”

  “Why does Bress need Valor?”

  He tilted his head, one eye squinting down at her. “It seems I am going to have to teach you obedience, but for now I will answer your questions because it pleases me to do so. You are mistaken if you think Lord Bress needs anything. He wants Valor. The enchanted sword brings greatness to its owner.”

  “Valor belongs to the High Faery King, Nuada.”

  “Valor belongs to the hand that wields her. She is not faithful.”

  “That canna be true.” She wiped blood from her mouth.

  “Why? Doona give loyalty to a fey talisman, Lana. The fey doona abide by the rules of men. Has your guardian not explained the dark side of the female to you?” He gestured with his hand. “Valor is the bringer of death, Lana. There is no goodness in her, no mercy, no compassion. She is a killer.”

  “Valor is a great defender of our lands,” Lana said with indignation.

  “Defender?” He stroked his chin and laughed acidly. “She is no great defender, no honorable spirit. Do you want to know what she is? Very few do.”

  Lana nodded that she did, even though she knew she could not trust his words.

  “It is an old myth that fey blood flows in the veins of a claíomh host. It is not fey blood that flows there.”

  Lana listened intently despite her mistrust.

  “It is the bloodline of a sorceress.”

  “A sorceress?” she echoed in surprise.

  “Aye,” he breathed, “a very powerful sorceress. During an ancient time of peril and war, a withered old sorceress cut a white branch from a sacred oak tree, angering the Gods and Goddesses. Under the amber light of a full moon, she conjured up a dark enchantment from the bowels of the land turning the oak branch into a gleaming sword unlike any the world has ever seen. A living sword spirit, so potent the Gods and Goddess, already angered by her act, became enraged. In retribution, they cast the sword spirit into the flesh of the sorceress’s first granddaughter, and Valor was born.”

  “So the current sword host…”

  He did not let her finish. “The current sword host has always been Glenna, the sorceress’s first granddaughter,” he answered. “There has never been another sword host.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Spriggans once served the ancient sorceress. They vowed silence when the Gods and Goddess threatened punishment, and so none have ever spoken of it.”

  “The sword spirit gave Glenna immortality?”

  He sat back on his heels. “Aye, she did.”

  “If that be true,” Lana asked suspiciously, “why do I bear the mark of the sword spirit? Why does Valor need another sword host?”

  A calculating look came to his eyes. “Valor is not entirely invincible, Lana. Fire and water can destroy her. I am sure the guardian could not have been entirely lax in his duties. He must have at least told you this.”

  Keegan had explained it to her, but she would not admit it to Cadman.

  Her tormentor looked away for a moment. “Generations have come and gone, and always there has been a sword host born, sometimes one, sometimes more than one.”

  He looked at her, a smug smile on his lips.

  Lana understood immediately, the certainty of it jarring her. Her voice came out barely a whisper. “The sorceress had another granddaughter.”

  He leaned back and smirked with importance. “Aye, she did.”

  “I am a descendant of the sorceress.” A shiver of cold ran down her spine.

  “Aye.” He gave her a leering grin. “The Gods and Goddesses doona like to be threatened. They cursed the sorceress’s entire female line. There were two granddaughters. You are a descendant of the youngest, Erin.”

  Lana looked away and stared blankly at the ground. She fought the sense of gloom, the sense that her life had never been her own.

  “ ‘Tis a curse, Lana. Not a privilege, but I will overlook it.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you are beautiful and I want the sorceress’s bloodline flowing in my offspring.”

  Lana fought back her revulsion. “Why?”

  “To some it is a curse, but not to me. Dark power lives in you and I want it for my heirs. I will be a great king someday; I must have great heirs.”

  “What of your Lord Bress?”

  He gave a small chuckle. “His rule will be short.”

  Lana studied her captor closely. “You have no intention of giving Valor to Bress, do you?”

  He shook his head with obvious relish. “I will keep up the pretense while it suits me, but she is mine as you are mine.”

  She could not believe what she was hearing. With a slender hand, she pushed tangled curls out of her eyes.

  “You have lovely hair, a rich golden fire that tempts me. I look forward to mating with you,” he said.

  “I will not lie with you.”

  He raised his hand to strike her again.

  Lana glared at him. She did not flinch, did not cower.

  “You bruise too easily,” he murmured, and dropped his hand. “I will have to be more careful in my discipline of you. I canna have my mate’s snow white skin a blanket of purple bruises.”

  “I am not your mate, not ever. Keegan has already claimed me.”

  Her captor’s face hardened, his gaze lingering on her jaw.

  “I can smell the taint of the guardian’s mating claim on you.” A scowl furrowed his brow as if he just realized what that meant.

  He held up a hand. “Bah, ‘tis nothing,” he growled.

  Lana smiled quietly.

  He did not like her show of defiance. “You are mine and will do what I say.”

  She shook her head slowly.

  “There are ways to break your spirit without breaking that beautiful body.”

  “I am a descendant of the sorceress, as you said. Even the Gods and Goddesses feared her conjuring. Do you think a mere spriggan half-blood worries me?”

  “You are defiant now.” He stood and stared down at her. “But I wonder if you realize how truly dark your destiny would be without me.”

  “My destiny will not be dark.”

  “With me, you will live in light, warmth, and comfort. With the guardian…” He shook his head. “He will give you to the sword spirit and you will live in eternal night and bloodshed.” Pivoting on his heels, he walked away. Lana stared after him, listening to the silence of the chambers.

  Her hands were shaking. With a fierce kick, she again attempted to free her bound ankles. Whatever she was, whatever her true destiny, two things remained perfectly clear in her mind.

  Keegan would never give her willingly to the sword spirit.

  And invaders were coming to her lands.

  She would do everything in her power to protect her tribe. Above her head, a distant rumble of thunder echoed through the chambers, followed by a swift crack of lightning. Soon after, the violent patter of rain drenched the land.

  Her guardian was coming.

  CHAPTER 14

  THE PURPLE SHADES OF TWO primordial feypaths lay before him, a beguiling and malevolent crossing from which he must choose his way.

  The underground passages of his fey kin were unexpectedly beautiful to him, pale pink crystals and ge
ms in surrounding rock faces, faded colors in shadows, swift breezes carrying the scent of fey taint and spitefulness only to disperse into nothingness and easy breath.

  The feypaths always evoked envy and fear among men, something unknown just beyond the reach of understanding. They had, and always would, belong to the Daoine Sidhe, the faery folk. They were passages crafted in long ago times, sparse of life and full of glows.

  These glows disintegrated now through the crimson haze of his anger and urgency. His gaze moved over the three dead faeries and what was left of the two men. The fury within made him more aggressive, more violent, and more destructive in his reactions, especially to those stupid enough to seek his death. He felt no remorse for his response to their ambush. Crouching low, his hand rested on churned soil from the fight. His wings moved back and forth in agitation, the sword scabbard on his back of little hindrance to muscle and sinew.

  He bared his teeth in silence, a brutal wildness humming through his blood. An uncontrollable deluge of hatred flowed within, where there should be only deadly calm.

  Calm.

  He reached for it. He must be calculating and composed to rescue Lana and Valor.

  No battle had ever been won by joining unmanageable rage with stupidity, and he had fought many to know. He scanned the crossroads that lay before him, identical shadows and glimmerings. He reached for the discipline and patience that had seen him through many a trying time and examined his choices. In the serpentine descent, he could not stand to his full height. Carved out of rock and stone, both jagged and smooth, the narrow fork awaited his decision.

  He lifted his head and inhaled slowly.

  The foul taint was cast into the air by a long ago faery king to dissuade the interest of men from entering the underground passages. Beneath the taint, he detected a faint trace of heather, confirming his tracking of Lana to this place. He looked down at his bloodstained hands.