by JK Cooper
The vision bobbed as Ptyas nodded.
She tapped the portal again.
Athena and the rest of the room stared at a field full of flowers. Water poured from a huge pillar of stone in the background in five directions. Blue mountains stood beyond that, topped in snow. Alsvoira?
Yes, watch.
A slash of black and red appeared at the center of the field, a portal to somewhere dark. Demons poured through the rift. The flowers fell as ash and flames spread out in all directions. A monster pushed through the gateway, huge, distorted, scorched skin blacker than the moonless night and a maw full of flame. A crown of molten metal topped his horned head. Where he stepped the world warped toward him as though he had a gravity all his own.
The Goddess appeared, stepping over ash, fresh flowers sprouting in her footsteps. An assembly of the five races stood behind her, dressed in bright gold Fae armor. A battle ensued, the Goddess forcing the demons back into the shadows of their own world, light flowing from her hands in streams that the demon king tried to absorb, but it was more than even he could devour.
He staggered backward through his rift, abandoning many of his demons as the portal closed behind him. The vision flickered and fell apart.
Athena stared at the wisp again. It swam lazily through the air back to the king’s side. The king sat, mouth open, staring at where it had been. “That’s not what happened.”
“No,” Mareus replied. “She let them destroy our world. She stood by and let them devour your sacred pools. She watched our cities burn. She failed us, not me. But I won’t let that happen again. Earth will not fall like Alsvoira did. We’re here for the key.”
Abdonius shook his head and closed his mouth. “You have come to the wrong court. You will find no keys here.” The guards advanced once more.
I knew it. Athena tapped into the ley lines she’d found deep beneath them. It wasn’t as easy to draw from these as the ones she’d leached into at the manor, but she found holes punched in these as well. Demons? She pulled the magic in, the world taking on a tinge of purple.
Illusions vanished as the magic filled her. The room remained beautiful, but the population halved. Ghosts of Fae looked on, held together by orange light. Even a few of the guards weren’t real. Tricks and lies. I don’t think I like the Fae.
“If they won’t give us the key, Father, we’ll take it by force.” She lashed out, sending a burst of Druid magic at the throne. Not all of the ill-made spell made it to her target as some of it siphoned away with a painful tug at her soul, but enough landed home. The Fae spells holding the throne together shattered. The king fell in the pool of unbound blood. It splattered the silver, gold, and bejeweled shoes of the crowd. Athena swung her scythe at the neck of the closest real guard.
Her father caught her blades in his gauntleted hand, the one that hadn’t fully healed, fingers curled at odd angles around her blades. “No, Daughter. This is not the way. Force never works with Fae.” He bowed toward where the king glared at them, soaked in blood, his perfect face blotchy with orange and splattered with red. “Blood has been spilt, but no Fae blood. And payment has already been offered.”
Mareus lifted his hand, letting the gauntlet vanish. His gnarled fingers barely covered a gash to the bone from her scythe, blood dripping down his palm to splatter against the floor.
Athena went to take his hand. “Oh, Father, I’m so sorry. I did not intend to hurt you.”
He ripped his hand away from her. “I allowed you to hurt me to undo the damage you had already done. Silence, child! You’ve said and done enough.” He turned back to the king. “Accept my apology for a daughter who is overly eager and lacks patience.”
Athena took a step back, stung by his tone and words. She bit back another angry retort and was grateful Ptyas said nothing.
The king sat staring at his bloodied pants and then began to laugh. It kept going for several minutes, high-pitched and manic as he kicked his feet and gasped for air. He finally managed to stop and stand, but giggles kept bubbling up. “That was a surprise, dear Athena.” He smiled at her surprise. “Yes, I know who you are. I’m king. Surprises are rare for someone my age. Thank you.” He gestured to the room. “Leave us. And someone bring me a few chairs.”
Half the Fae vanished in a flash of fire and smoke. The others shuffled out. Someone dragged three chairs into the center of the pool of blood.
Athena released her hold on the ley lines as she took the seat next to the king. The scythe disappeared. “Sorry and you’re welcome.”
Abdonius chuckled. “You made a feisty one, Mar-Bar.”
Mareus growled. “Really? Still with that nickname?”
The king shrugged. “It is law to give nicknames to those we care for. A human affectation we’re still attempting to understand. You were one of my dearest friends. Seems you remain so. I can’t believe the Goddess let Alsvoira fall. It is madness.”
“And that’s coming from you.” Athena realized what she’d said too late to stop herself.
The king eyed her and laughed again, slapping her shoulder with a heavy hand covered in blood. “I like her. Madness is another law here. You humans fall into it so easily. We have to work so hard to hold onto it.”
Athena wiped at her shoulder with a gauntlet, trying not to let her disgust show. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“That is the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.” The king looked at her with pure sincerity, a tear in one eye. “Refreshments!” He shouted the word in her face so forcefully Athena’s hair moved, and she wondered if she was supposed to get up and find some for him.
But a thin Fae woman carried a tray in before Athena could stand. The king took an assortment of fruit, meat, and cheeses, stuffing them into his mouth quickly before letting the tray pass on to the others.
Mareus waved the tray away but nodded at Athena’s unspoken question.
She took a skewer with strange fruit on it and a fluted glass with a pink liquid inside that smelled faintly like strawberries. “Thank . . .” Athena trailed off as she caught her father’s widened eyes.
The Fae with the tray was leaning forward, a look of rising anger on her face, with an undercurrent of eager excitement.
“. . . goodness the weather’s been so nice. Am I right?”
“That was close. Did your father explain what happens when you thank a Fae?” Abdonius waved the servant away after Mareus showed no interest in the refreshments.
Athena shook her head as she sipped the beverage, aware within seconds that it was laced with something that felt more magical than narcotic. She fought an urge to giggle and shook her head harder to clear it.
The king frowned at Mareus. “You didn’t prepare her well.” He turned back to Athena and threw a grape in his mouth. “Humans arrived on Alsvoira, so thankful for everything. It didn’t take us long to realize you use those words to dismiss what was done for you. You speak the words and then promptly forget all the work, the anguish, the heart that went into the acts. Nothing angers a Fae like being thanked. Not a single one here is your servant and not a single one wants you to dismiss any kindness they do.”
“I can handle one angry Fae.” Athena sipped again and couldn’t suppress the giggle that bubbled out.
“You misunderstand. You also would have owed her something to show your gratitude was not a simple spell to forget. It is law. You would not be able to refuse, not here, not with Fae air in your lungs and Fae drink in your mouth.” He watched the woman with the tray slip out a side entrance to the throne room, giving a disappointed glance back at the Lycan. “That one is partial to eyes.”
Like I’d let her take one of my eyes.
No, you would have plucked it out yourself and handed it to her. Ptyas snapped, obviously angry at her flippant attitude.
Athena shrugged. Eyes heal.
Ptyas growled inside her. Not in this case. She would have kept it alive and whole. Your body would have never recognized the wound. You would have seen glimpses
of whatever maddening glamour she cast upon it for the rest of your life. And she would have been in possession of a piece of you, given freely. That’s a magic that can be used against you, even decades later. You need to take this seriously.
Athena swallowed what was in her mouth but set the glass down on the bloodied floor next to her chair. Fine.
Athena looked up to find the king contemplating her.
“Talking to yourself? Who’s mad here?”
“To Ptyas, not myself,” she corrected him.
Abdonius laughed, only slightly manic this time. “Is he not a part of you? Just because the voice in your head has a name does not make you less of a shattered creature than the rest of humanity.”
Athena swallowed her argument. She’d already lost that one with Ptyas. “What about the key? Are you willing to give it to us now?”
The king smiled, his lips curving farther than human lips could. It was disconcerting. “I told you. There are no keys here.”
“Riddles.” Mareus said. “Fae love them. So, no keys here, but they are somewhere? Seely Court?”
The king winked at Athena before turning to his old friend. “Always so clever. The Goddess, taking into account the unique nature of the Fae, divided the key between us. Only royal Seely blood can unlock the key, in the place where keys were forged.”
Mareus leaned forward. “That means there is a second part that you can offer.”
Abdonius grinned, revealing perfect white teeth with tiny silver designs carved into them. “I am the singular individual that can give consent.”
Athena scooted to the edge of her seat. “Do you? Give it?”
“Of course. I give consent. You have it.”
Athena felt an electrical sensation in her bones, a tingling that rolled from toes to crown. “Yes, I do. How do we get the key?”
“I’ve told you.”
Mareus leaned back. “Silphinaera will never give me or my daughter the key. That’s why I came to you.”
“And I’ll never give consent to Thyra-mit-Eira, not after all she did to me and mine. So many Fae deaths at her hand.” The king’s countenance had gone pale, his eyes dark and far away, but then he cackled, slapping his thigh. Blood droplets flew everywhere. “The Goddess set up the perfect ironic logical trap. Two want the key and neither can get the whole of it. Perhaps you are right, Mar-Bar. Maybe she really did want the demons to win. Maybe our sweet Goddess embraced madness at the end too.”
Athena wiped drops of blood from her face. “What now, Father?”
The king answered before Mareus could say anything. “I can get you to the right place. Maybe that will be enough.”
Theo’s powder-blue Vespa skidded on the gravel as he parked too fast near the side entrance to Salt Air, kicking up a cloud of dust that blew out over the water. Brine flies dodged his dust as Theo set the kickstand, pulled off his helmet, and grabbed his meager gear from the compartment.
He relied on the current owner of Salt Air to provide most of the equipment. Theo could have had the best gear, a swanky apartment, and a better vehicle, but he didn’t like leaning on Fae contacts if he didn’t have to.
The stuffy interior of the helmet was replaced by the scent of salt and decay. Ah, the beauty of Stank Air. That was a common nickname for the location, but it was one of the largest venues in Salt Lake area and well away from the city, so the concerts and events could get loud and go late.
Theo pulled the door open and stepped into one of the employee’s areas, which was as run down as they come. The building had been moved, rebuilt, and changed hands too many times to count. The original had been a sight to see, with copper-topped towers, polished wood, fancy pavilions, and plenty of boardwalk space to take in the view. The latest version was a squat warehouse made of concrete. The dome-roofed towers were reminiscent of the original Moscow-esque architecture, but they were fiberglass and sun-rotten. People didn’t show up for the fancy décor. Salt Air was all about the wild parties and the music.
Theo ran up the concrete stairs to the landing where all the equipment waited. The venue owner paid a company to set it all up for him beforehand, get the lights running, kick on the fog machines, and play a pulsing track on repeat in the background so the early comers didn’t file in to silence.
Theo checked the soundboards, adjusted a few levels, plugged in a mic, booted up his laptop, and put on the most expensive thing he owned: his headphones. When he felt good about starting, he flipped a switch that swung multi-colored lights his way as he dropped his glamour to reveal lavender eyes that were larger than most humans, pointed ears, and long hair that shifted colors in the light. He stared out at the mob of humanity that huddled in the dark between cinder block walls painted black.
“Are you ready to dance?” he shouted into the microphone.
The crowd screamed. Theo loved that moment, the pure excitement and anticipatory joy. “DJ Elf is in the house! Let’s get it on!”
He kicked on the first track and then blended it with another, pumping the bass into overdrive. It was always good to start with something fast-paced and thumping. The crowd came alive, pulsing in rhythmic movements that created rippling patterns through the room.
Theo hit a program that would run the lights through a series of movements with his music. He also cracked opened a spell-lined shoebox and whispered inside. “You know the drill. Stay high, don’t bump into people.” He widened the crack and Fizz shot up to dance among the lights and artificial smoke near the ceiling.
Theo tapped into his magic, altering entropy enough that unusual and unlikely patterns formed in that smoke. Checkers, swirling designs, and fractals filled the air above the crowd, highlighted by lights and lasers. The crowd went crazy, pointing upward as they danced, picking out images, like kids do with clouds. Theo grinned, let one track end and slid another into the background, and he turned on the projector that sent psychedelic video splashing along one large wall. Yeah, he definitely liked his job.
Athena followed the elf-like woman who had almost taken her eye through the winding and weird paths of Underhill. Her father had remained behind. He couldn’t join her in the quest for this key. There was too much going on in the world for him to take the time, especially as the king hadn’t been specific on how long she might be waiting in Alsvoira. Why can’t he leave a lieutenant in charge for a couple more hours at least?
Ptyas answered the question she’d posed to herself. Because you are his most trusted, and he can’t leave you behind. I suspect he also wants to avoid Alsvoira.
Athena managed not to flinch, despite his sudden voice surprising her. She smiled inwardly at her control, but then realized he was grinning at her. Weird to feel someone grinning inside me. You noticed you startled me, didn’t you?
Of course. We are one.
When will I get used to that?
Probably never. It is unusual for me too. I tried to be a comfort for my previous host, but we didn’t really converse. Thank you, again, for what you’re doing for her.
Athena shrugged. I made a promise. I usually keep those.
Ptyas chuckled but said nothing more.
They walked in silence again for a few more minutes, staring at the perfect backside of the Fae woman, rustling silk, before Athena spoke again to her Immortal Wolf. Why?
Pardon?
Why wouldn’t my father wish to see Alsvoira? It was his home. He talks about it all the time. He’s kind of obsessed really.
Ptyas sighed. It isn’t what it once was. He is partly responsible for that. I’m sure it would pain him more than it will me to see the corpse of our world.
Athena mused over his answer. That makes sense. Are you sure you can handle it?
I have to. You need the key, and I am not in charge of this body.
Sorry. Athena didn’t know why she said it.
It’s okay. I was barely in charge of the last body, so it is kind of nice to sit back and stop fighting for every tortuous movement. You have no idea how hard
hunting is when every nerve resists you.
Did it hurt?
It was agony.
They fell silent again.
“We are entering Seely Court territory,” the Fae woman said.
Athena grinned as she felt Ptyas jump at the Fae’s voice.
She hadn’t needed to say so. There was a sharp distinction when their journey crossed from the Unseely madness into the more orderly Seely weirdness. The paths were less winding, the landscape less bizarre, but there was still an otherness about the place that reminded Athena she was not in the world she knew.
“How far now?”
The Fae woman glanced back, her perfect blue eyes too large in her skull as she blinked languidly at Athena. “Not far to the demon gate and then a short hike to your destination. Do you still have the token?”
Athena rubbed the silver coin in her pocket, given to her by the Unseely king. “Of course. I would not lose a Fae gift so easily.”
The woman nodded as if Athena had just passed a test. “This way.” She stepped off the main path into a wall that swirled around her like smoke before it solidified back into the wall.
Athena stared at the solid stone for only a second before stepping through. Here’s hoping this isn’t some Fae trick to make me break my nose and spill more blood.
It wasn’t a trick. Athena passed through without harm, though it felt like walking through spider webs. She rubbed the tickles on her nose away as she stepped through the smoky illusion, almost running into two Fae draped in silver and green armor. Two more stood near the center of the chamber, staring at each other. She froze, but neither of the guards closest to her acknowledged her presence, so she stepped forward, admiring the strange metal. So much like my own.
Ptyas answered her thought. They made it, remember, though my . . . now your armor was crafted by Unseely hands, so it has some more flare.
Thank you, Ptyas. I know. She elongated the last word, sounding snippier than she intended, but didn’t apologize. I would love to see how it’s made.