Of Kelpie Lullabies
Alycia Christine
www.purplethornpress.com
Contents
Of Kelpie Lullabies
Meet the Author
Also by Alycia Christine
Bonus Material
Copyright
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Of Kelpie Lullabies
Blistering black winds whipped around Keiranna, clawing at her clasped cape as she crouched upon the Watcher’s Rock. She slapped wild raven tresses away from her gaunt face and surveyed the scene below her again. Three times the sun had greeted her through the sooty clouds and still there was no sign of her quarry. She knew none but the bravest messengers would risk riding along the Split Spine Mountains and that meant a long time between decent horsemeat meals. She sighed and tried to ignore her surly stomach’s complaints. Some days even starvation seemed a better choice than her usual fare of polecat.
“I wish my waking hours were as comforting as my unconscious ones,” she grumbled to herself. She tried to sing the lullaby from the previous night’s dream. “Boldly call upon the height, Battle cries throughout the night. Victory will come some way, If you can but hold ‘til day...”
Her ears stung at the mockery her gruff voice made of the tune. Finally she gave up and glared at the Stone Spine’s hot springs where the kelpies usually swam. Keiranna had mixed feelings about the horse-like creatures. They would joyfully kill her on sight and yet their nocturnal singing had been her only serenity in the years following her fae aunt’s death. How many years had it been since the curse had made faes of all her family and enslaved them to this wretched land? Fifty years? Sixty? And how long since the last of her family had died in her arms and left her alone in the Split? At least fifteen years or was it twenty? Keiranna frowned at her lapse of memory. There had been a time long ago when she could recall everything and feel each remembrance acutely. Now she could recall faces but not names; the warmth of her mother’s embrace but not the love it signified. She supposed she had existed as a fae shadow of her former self too long to understand anything other than kill and eat when she was awake.
“Maybe I should try to sleep and never wake,” she wondered aloud. “The kelpies’ lullabies could sing me to my death then. That might be pleasant.”
Distant dust churned up along the ribbon of road and Keiranna shifted slightly to retrieve an arrow from her quiver. She notched it and waited. As the rider and his galloping gray steed drew closer, she frowned. He had a second horse with him and it was not a pack animal. She pulled the bow tight and, after a moment’s hesitation, let the bolt fly just off-center. The hissing arrow arced and found its mark in the extra mount’s left flank, which caused the horse to buck with a frantic scream. The fae girl watched impassively as the rider fought the beast and then finally let go of the rein in favor of trying vainly to control his own finicky mount.
The wounded animal loped off in the direction of the tar pits as the rider went flying from his saddle. He awkwardly bounced on his rump across the ash-strewn canyon floor until he came to a spluttering stop next to a pile of bleached bones. Keiranna split the winds and glided smoothly down to the canyon floor some 50 meters below the Watcher’s Rock. She stood with an arrow pointed at his back before the messenger could regain his feet.
“Do not ponder escape, messenger, for there will be none for you if you displease me.”
The man spun around, gawking at her. “How did you…Who are you?”
“Keiranna of the Blacmann Clan of the Daoine Sídhe.”
Surprisingly, he did not tremble at the sound of her name as all the others had. She could still smell his fear, but it was tempered by the stubborn resolve growing in his green eyes.
“I have come to parley with you and to offer the horse” —he motioned after the fleeing beast— “as a gift.”
Her head rolled back as she cackled. “Who would be daft enough to send a valuable rider on such a foolhardy errand, stranger?”
“His Majesty, King Gayal of Aelmosé wishes that I negotiate with you, Keiranna,” he said evenly.
Keiranna brushed her knotted hair back with her spidery fingers and studied the man a moment. The confident stance of his lean body matched the power in his melodic voice. He seemed somehow familiar to her, but his face prompted no memories. Should she kill him and be done with it? A man like this would make a fine meal and would be a nice change from the stringy carcasses she usually consumed. She kept her grim’s-tooth-tipped arrow at the human’s thudding heart, but relaxed the bowstring somewhat as her curiosity trampled her logic.
“What is your name, stranger?”
“Edwin of Hightown Parish.”
She smirked coldly. “Very well, Edwin, what is it you wish?”
“I ask that you cease the hostilities upon Aelmosé riders and allow us peaceful passage through your clan’s domain.”
Keiranna’s malevolent chuckle split the pebbles under their boots. “And why should I grant such a wish when your countrymen hunted the Sídhe and Fae clans to near extinction?”
“Because I can return to you that which was lost,” Edwin said and carefully removed a leather pouch from his belt. He cautiously removed its magic seal with a word in Shee’s Tongue and held the open bundle out for her inspection.
Keiranna drew a few steps closer with her bow still ready. She suspiciously peered inside the brown bag and gasped when she spied a smooth sapphire gleaming in the dim midday light. Even after three decades, she recognized it immediately by both sight and sound.
“The Stone of Creation!” she exclaimed over the gem’s gentle hum.
She stared at it with longing. For years the sacred stone had been entrusted with her family until the vile sorcerer Ember stole it and used it to turn them from aes sídhe into sheerie traitors loathed by fae and sídhe fairies alike. The members of the Blacmann Clan were trapped by the sorcerer’s wards and forced to live on whatever meat wandered willingly into the now volcanic Split Spine Mountains.
The sheerie looked at Edwin in awe. “How did you come by this?”
“If I tell you the story, you must promise not to harm me or my steed this day and allow us safe passage from this place once you and I conclude negotiations.”
“None but a sorcerer can hold the bonds of that stone.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I do not trust sorcerers.”
He returned her stare. “You and I both know that a true sorcerer could wield this gem to rend you in two even if you are protected by grim’s-tooth arrows and pooka cloaks. Yet here you stand uninjured. All I ask is that the same courtesy be extended to me.”
She surveyed him and then his gray horse in speculation. Could he truly do as he said? He might have offered parley to her in case he believed others of her clan were alive and watching. If she revealed to him that she was alone, it would likely mean her destruction. But, then after all this time of numb existence, would death be so terrible?
“Do we have an accord?” Edwin asked. His mouth was set stubbornly, but she thought she saw a glimmer of gentleness flit across his gaze.
Keiranna looked at her would-be prey and again felt curiosity overrule her other sensibilities. Slowly she nodded her head. “Come with me out o
f this horrid heat and we will discuss your terms.”
At her suggestion, Edwin hesitated.
She cocked her head to one side in bemusement and raised her arrow toward the center of his chest once more. “Do you truly believe you can choose to thwart my wishes and live? Even if you use the stone against me, other fae will come and surely destroy you.”
Edwin frowned and swallowed slowly before shaking his head.
Keiranna chuckled then. “Come. There are worse things than me to contend with in this land. We must seek shelter before the other fae creatures hear the stone’s song.
“Collect your horses quickly and do not worry. I would never allow harm to come to such a messenger of hope.”
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