Fey Born

by R. Garland Gray

  The faeries and men who thought to attack him from behind were no more, as the form of Keegan was no more. He preferred to remain in his true shape now, the one of deadly strength and intolerance. Something once safely contained was now dangerously released.

  Emotions.

  Passions.

  Wants.

  Craving vengeance.

  They had taken Lana.

  Stolen Valor.

  Murdered MacLir.

  His hands fisted. They threatened the fey, his lands, and his waters.

  Flinging his head back, he bellowed out his challenge, the rampant echo traveling through the dark shining fey-paths of his kin.

  He wanted those who took Lana to know a fey guardian hunted them.

  He wanted them to know what they had let loose.

  His nostrils flared once again; the faint scent of heather lingered in both passages. Her captors were trying to assist him in making a wrong choice.

  His eyes narrowed into gleaming slits. He could hear the flow of the river, a muffled melody, just to the right of his position.

  What lay ahead were the ancient passage tombs of Knowth and Dowth.

  He had already been to Knowth.

  Dowth was located north of the river and had two entrances.

  Dowth North and Dowth South would take him to two different locations within the great faery mound.

  He studied the smooth stone feypath at his right. This one would lead him to Dowth North, a long passage, about twenty strides in length, ending in a cruciform chamber. He had been to Dowth North only once in his lifetime, but remembered it well. At the end of the cruciform chamber lay two more entranceways. Both of them led deeper into the faery mound. The first dark passage, seen only by fey born, led to the chamber of cave pools, a sacred place. The second passage had a corbelled roof and led nowhere. He dismissed it immediately from his mind.

  He focused on the jagged walled feypath at his left. This one would lead him to Dowth South. A shorter passage of about five strides, Dowth South ended in a circular chamber. Within the circular chamber lay two more entranceways as well. One was a single recess to the right, and the other seen only by fey born. The ancient builders of Dowth South aligned the passages to the setting sun of the winter solstice. On that one special day, sunlight spilled down into Dowth South’s darkness.

  He had a choice to make.

  Valor lay imprisoned in water.

  When he found Valor, he would find Lana.

  His hands fisted.

  Dowth North had a chamber of sacred pools.

  He launched himself into the confined space, choosing Dowth North, and became a deadly hunter seeking prey in the sacred Faery Mound of Darkness.

  ———

  “Walk, Lana,” Cadman growled, shoving her forward.

  They were in the feypaths once again. Dwindling light flickered across her skin in violet shades. The eerie hues slithered along the feypath’s rocky walls with an intimidating radiance. Yet, majesty existed here, something untamed and admirable. Beneath her bare feet, black pebbles littered the uneven dirt floor. She had the sensation of moving downward, the pressure in her ears varying. The sea-hued gown she wore kept her in comfort, no matter the swift changes in temperature from the periodic winds. She glanced at one of the dragonfly cuffs adorning her upper arms, a reminder and reassurance of Keegan. He would come.

  Wrists bound with the same fey threads once tying her ankles together, Lana covered her mouth with both her hands and coughed. The rotting smell that permeated the dank air felt like a living entity, tainting her breath. It drifted through the underground passages, a mourning wind of stink and regret, not like the salty breezes of the calming seashore. She wondered if she would ever see the foamy waves of the sea again, and thought probably not.

  She walked slightly ahead of Cadman, the pain in her chest sharpening and waning, a constant companion in these last few hours. She remained calm, keeping the discomfort hidden as best she could, fighting the tidal wave of fear that her damaged heart had had enough of this life.

  A growing feebleness in her limbs sought to steal her perseverance and slow her stride. She fought it, concentrating on the winding feypath ahead instead of herself.

  With a bend to the left, a growth of sickly brown vines sprouted from the stone walls. Branches growing thick upon themselves, they appeared to be strangling each other in their zeal for life.

  On the opposite wall of the long purple-lit passage, concentric circles and small and large spirals swept the gray stone. She ran a hand along the etchings that looked to be ancient symbols of a long ago moonset and moonrise.

  “Stop touching the walls and move,” her captor growled from behind her.

  “Where are you taking me, Cadman?” Lana looked over her shoulder.

  “We go to Dowth.”

  Dowth was the name the druidess once called the Faery Mound of Darkness. She remembered the reference now. Dowth meant darkness.

  “Is Valor at Dowth?” she prompted.

  “You ask too many questions.”

  She stopped and faced him, unwilling to be put off. “Is Valor at Dowth, Cadman?”

  “Aye, Valor is at Dowth,” he mimicked sarcastically, grabbing her upper arm hurtfully. He propelled her forward. “I should have left you tied up back in my home, but unfortunately I doona trust you would wait for me.”

  She coughed again and felt a jolt of pain in her chest. It was gone in the next shaky breath. With her right hand, she held on to her left wrist, a small security that kept her spirit from splintering into ruin and despair.

  “Cadman,” she said, keeping her tone even, for he eyed her suspiciously now. “Why do you not wink us there to Dowth?”

  “Wink to Dowth?” He frowned as if just remembering he had the power to bring them there in an instant.

  “You are fey, Cadman. Would it not be faster to wink us to Dowth instead of trudging through these stink filled paths?”

  “It would be,” he agreed, and then sneered, “but then your lovely scent will not be in the feypaths, and I want the guardian to come this way.”

  Anger replaced her weariness and fear. “You have set a trap for Keegan?”

  “I have set many traps,” he retorted. “The first few needed to be stronger, that is all.”

  She smiled knowingly. “Your other traps dinna stop my guardian. What makes you think these will?”

  He glared at her and then looked over his shoulder, a general disquiet marking his features. “These will stop him. They must.”

  “My guardian is fiercer than the rest. He will not be stopped.” She let her tone show her pleasure. “Never.”

  He looked back at her.

  “You canna win, Cadman.”

  “I have Valor.”

  “For now,” she admitted, giving him that.

  He continued to stare at her, his features scrunched in observation. “What is wrong with you? You look all white and sweaty.”

  “Nothing,” she rebuffed. “I am tired only. You dinna allow me any food or drink.”

  “You deny too quickly.” He stepped forward, pushing her roughly against the wall, his hand a hot brand upon her chest.

  Leaning forward, he sniffed at her jawline. Lana turned her face away at the sour scent of his breath.

  “The guardian has taken you,” he said with low fury, pulling back. “You are no longer unbled.” He slid his open hand down her body, coming to rest on her stomach.

  “Stop it, Cadman.”

  “Hold still.” His fingers dug hurtfully into her tender flesh. “But no babe grows in your womb.”

  He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

  “A claiming and a mating of a claíomh host is forbidden, Lana. What spell did you cast upon him? A fey guardian would never breech a vow.”

  “I cast no spell,” she replied indignantly.

  He searched her eyes for truth and then released her. “They will punish him, you know.”

  �
��Who will punish him? Why?”

  A beastly smile crossed his features. “When I am fey king I will make sure of it.”

  Her heart pounded in her breast. “You must also be made to pay for this lack of discretion. You look pale, my lovely. Doona fear. I will be lenient with you. When Valor submits to my hand, I will ride you in celebration every night thereafter, and you will drop many of my sons.”

  “I will not surrender to you. Neither will Valor.”

  He smiled. “Both of you will learn.”

  Suddenly, a fearsome howl rent the air.

  Cadman balked, covering his ears and flinching in pain.

  Lana turned toward the reverberation, searching the purple shadows beyond. The sound did not hurt her ears. “Keegan,” she guessed aloud in triumph, and then bolted toward the sound.

  “Stop.”

  A foot shot out and tripped her.

  She fell forward, sprawling on her stomach. Her bound hands were unable to break her fall.

  “Keegan,” she cried, her chin cut and bleeding from impacting on a jagged rock. “Valor is at Dowth!”

  “Shut up!” her captor said loudly, arms locked around her waist from behind.

  Lana rolled over and kicked out, missing him. “Valor is at DOWTH!” she yelled, determined her guardian mate hear her.

  Cadman grabbed her bound hands and yanked her to her feet. She did not have the physical strength to fight him, but it did not stop her.

  “Let go of me!” she shouted, twisting in his arms. “You have no right to hold me!”

  “Stop fighting me, Lana.” He easily stilled her efforts, his thin body pressing into her back.

  “Nay!” Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “Keegan, Valor is at…”

  A cold hand plastered across her face, blocking her air.

  “Silence,” he hissed in her ear, and then a piercing white light burst before her eyes. She flinched in surprise. He was winking them to Dowth.

  A terrible silence roared in her ears.

  Cold air slid along her skin.

  In the next instant, she lay prone on the edge of a ledge.

  CHAPTER 15

  LANA LIFTED HER HEAD AND looked down upon the timeless, serrated ridges of a double shore. Dotted crystal prisms refracted light and color in the underground chamber.

  Two dazzling black water pools held dominion here, one spilling into the other amid a shawl of white mist. Fingerlike wisps of mist crept insidiously outward from the waterfall to the triple boulders flecked with pink gems. A small, shallow valley of stunted, white-barked trees stood in the northern corner. Never had she seen tree branches twisted and bent as these, growing downward into rock and soil instead of upward to the scarce light. They seemed forlorn, etched in dimness and shadow, an unforgettable solitude and wildness clinging to them.

  Uncomfortable with their white presence, she looked away taking a shaky breath. The air was crisp and cool, every breath clean and sweet.

  “Welcome to the Faery Mound of Darkness, Lana.”

  Lana glanced over her shoulder at Cadman. Her captor sat perched on a small ridge behind her, streaks of refracted light spilling across his thin face.

  “Is it not beautiful?” he asked, his black beady eyes watchful of her every response, her every emotion.

  Aye, it is beautiful… in a distressing way, she thought, and nodded in answer. This was a place of whiteness and shadow, of treachery and deceit, but also of regal grandeur and olden sacredness. She searched the magnificent pools for the enchanted sword, Valor. Sitting up to see better, the inside of her right knee scraped against a bulging stone she barely noticed. Her attention focused below, she saw three men standing at an entranceway to the pool cavern. In each hand they carried a short sword and dagger. The men were guards, she reasoned quickly, the same as the six faeries who stood near the flowing waterfall, more of Lord Bress’s loyal and misguided followers.

  Then a glint in the water caught her eye. She looked again, sitting up straighten Hung from the ceiling on a thick rope was a cage made of branches. Partially submerged in the farthest pool, she could see the hilt of a sword peeking above the surface of the rippling waters.

  “That is Valor,” Cadman said proudly.

  “How long has she been in the water?” Lana glanced over her shoulder.

  “Long enough,” he replied smugly. He leaned forward, his eyes bright with expectation. “Have you ever seen Valor, Lana?”

  She shook her head.

  “There is none other like her in all the lands. She was conjured from the branch of a sacred tree whose roots fell to the deepest hollows of the most forgotten places. Her blade is made of an unknown metal, but her most important and unique feature is her hilt. The place where her master holds her is crafted of spiral-cut bone. She is lighter, swifter, and longer than any other sword ever seen.”

  Lana thought only of the sorceress’s first granddaughter, Glenna. Locked in the enchantment of the sword spirit for all these years, she wondered if anything was left of the young woman.

  “Valor is a fearsome sword which will smite her master’s enemies, but it is not what makes her great. Do you know what makes her great, Lana?” her captor prompted excitedly.

  “Nay,” she whispered, sickened by the sweaty flush on his face.

  Savoring the moment, his voice came to her barely above a whisper, imparting his great secret to her. “It is said Valor is the only blade that can stop Freagarthach?”

  Lana quickly searched her mind for the translation of the olden word. “The Answerer?” she prompted in alarm, “the great sword defender belonging to the High King of the Faeries?”

  “Aye.” Cadman leaned back, pleased by her intelligence. “Answerer is one of the four talismans of the fey. I see you know your mythic legacy.”

  She knew very little about legacies, mythic or otherwise, and shoved a blond curl out of her eyes.

  “Freagarthach is Answerer’s olden name,” her captor explained. “The great Answerer inflicts only mortal wounds when drawn and only the dark enchanted blade, Valor, can defeat him.”

  “Him?”

  “Answerer was crafted for a male hand, Lana. Therefore, the sword must be male.”

  “You stole Valor to destroy Answerer,” she stated, knowing the truth.

  “Aye, what better way to destroy a powerful magical sword than with another powerful sword crafted from dark conjuring?” He grinned.

  “You have no guarantee Valor can destroy Answerer,” Lana argued.

  “She will,” he said confidently. “Valor is crafted of the dominant dark side of the sacred female, the taker of life. Taking life is much easier than giving life. Dark always wins over light, whether male or female.”

  Lana strongly disagreed.

  He leaned forward again, his face flushed and earnest. “Do you want to see Valor? Do you want to see the darkness I am protecting you from?”

  “I want to see her,” Lana said, but not for the reasons he stated.

  “Come then, my lovely.” Jumping down, he walked over to her and reached for her arm, pulling her roughly to her feet.

  Lana pulled her arm free, not liking his touch.

  “You will be grateful to me.” His gaze slid down her body with vile intent. “Very grateful,” he murmured.

  “I want to see her now, Cadman.”

  “So you will.” He gestured behind her.

  About two horse lengths from where they stood, a narrow stone stairway curved down the wall to the pools below. “Shall we?” He placed a hand on her arm and pushed her forward.

  “The steps leading down to the pools become very narrow, so I will lead.” He walked in front of her. “In case you trip and fall, I will be there to catch you.”

  “How noble,” she muttered under her breath.

  He turned his back and started down the steps.

  Lana reacted on impulse. Had she taken the time to contemplate her tackling maneuver, she probably would have proceeded more cautiously, but all she c
ould think about was rescuing Valor. She jumped and landed on his back. Snaking her arms over her captor’s head, she pulled the binding on her wrists snug under his pointed chin.

  Cursing, he clawed at her wrists and bindings, trying to free himself.

  With all her strength, Lana held on. She pulled back hard, wanting to choke the life out of him.

  He slipped on the third step, falling forward and taking her with him.

  They tumbled down the rest of the twenty or so narrow stone steps in a struggle of flailing limbs, and hit the bottom stone slab with a loud thud.

  Lana lay in shock, her body hurting, breathing heavily.

  The spriggan half-blood landed on top of her, knocking her nearly unconscious.

  “Foolish female, you will be punished for this.” He pushed off her in a rage and climbed to his feet. “I have treated you well, but you will soon learn the meaning of my anger.”

  Lana barely heard him. She felt the bruises already forming on her back, right arm, and hip. She tried to steady her breathing, but the clutching pain in her chest sent a wave of cold dread into her bloodstream.

  “GUARDIAN COMES,” one of the faeries warned loudly from the other side of the pool.

  In a blur, Lana lifted her head, wiping the burning tears from her eyes.

  For a single breath, silver shards of light formed above the pool closest to her, a glowing power of deliverance.

  “Drop the net!” Cadman snapped, gesturing wildly with his hands.

  A black net of fey webs fell from the ceiling in a soundless whoosh.

  Keegan.

  “Nay!” she screamed, but it was too late.

  The net closed around him. Her mind reeled back at the sight of him, suspended above the pool in front of her, ensnared, caught like a fly in a deadly spider’s web. Except, he was Rain now. His true form made him look bigger, more threatening than she remembered.

  His beautiful head lifted. Amethyst fire glinted at her and Lana swallowed down her fear. She realized instantly he wanted to be caught. He turned away and focused on her captor, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the spriggan half-blood.

  Cadman chuckled and slapped his thigh in triumph. “Welcome, Great Guardian of the Waters. You may wink in but the dark enchantment of the webworking will not allow you to wink out.” He bowed and swept his arm out in feigned respect. “I see you have followed Lana’s sweet scent. And I, rather brilliantly, entrapped you. Who is the greater fey warrior here?” He flashed her a grin and Lana realized the display of power was meant for her benefit and her benefit alone.