Unfettered III

by Shawn Speakman (ed)

  “We must be cautious, Heliwr,” Aderyn whispered from ahead, turning in her seat. “These are people who have shut out the world.”

  “Feeling uneasy about this?”

  The Druid nodded. “Something does not feel right.”

  “It doesn’t,” Richard agreed. “The ashterbach attacked us multiple times on our journey. Now here, nothing. Haven’t seen even a hint of it. Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Aderyn said. “But it is still out there. And it still wants to kill that phoenix, one way or another.”

  The Heliwr of the Yn Saith hiked the pack up higher on his shoulder, keeping it safe as they rode. None of it made any sense. Then again, events in Annwn rarely did. Preconceptions could kill in this land and survival meant being open to all possibilities—no matter how odd or inconceivable. Richard had survived a long time, longer than most in his position. He had done so by being cautious, by looking at all angles, and keeping focused on the problem at hand. Right now, he was entering a viper pit of cultists, even if their intentions may be in the right place. He would wait to discover that on his own.

  It didn’t take long to reach the village. It was clear that the Anfarwol Order had remained a small sect, the homes relegated to several dozen just down the hill from the mountain’s stone summit. The massive trees above them had been limbed high, and many paths connected one home to another below. After the group had been shown comfortable accommodations, the Ard-Sagart escorted them to a larger home, one better constructed and filled with lavish items. Richard knew it to be her residence.

  “Tomorrow night will see the Anfarwol Order’s dedication come to fruition, a celebration. Tonight, though, I thought it would be a good time to see to the needs of my daughter, Laura Goodnight,” Fianna Hier said, having made some tea and guiding them to a door that led to a side room. Her consort listened to her, then bowed his head and left. “And possibly become reacquainted with my first daughter after so long.”

  “You had a Goodnight as a consort, Mother?” Aderyn asked.

  “I did. You remember that honorable line then,” Fianna Hier said, nodding her approval. “He was a good man, like those you knew so long ago. Now dust ten years gone. He did give me Laura, and I thank the phoenix for that.”

  Richard couldn’t imagine living so long that one could have multiple wives or husbands, multiple sets of children in different centuries. He found it unnerved him in some visceral way.

  Fianna Hier opened the door. Beyond was a room lit by several candles that drove back the darkness of the coming night outside the window. On the bed lay a blanketed woman, lithe and fair, long dark hair framing a face serene and beautiful. Though dark circles swam under her eyes and her skin carried a waxy sheen. She did not awaken, eyes fitfully darting beneath their lids. She had been ill for some time.

  “What is wrong with her?” Richard asked.

  “We do not know. But there seems to be no cure.”

  The Heliwr went to her bedside. He sat beside her.

  “May I?”

  The girl’s mother mulled it over, eyes taking in Richard’s measure, before drinking a sip of her tea and shrugging, stepping aside. The Heliwr picked up the young woman’s hands, warming them with his own, calling upon the magic of two worlds. The heat of magic responded, and he sent the abilities the Dark Thorn afforded him into her body, seeking what he knew would be there, hunting for the affliction. In a moment, he returned to himself.

  “She is dying,” Richard said. “Burning up. A malignancy unlike anything I’ve ever encountered before. But not of the flesh. In the blood. Dank gray spots traveling through her, clotting, a moving fever. I could not pin down its origin. Was she in contact with anything unusual before this?”

  “Nothing that the rest of us haven’t been,” Fianna Hier said. She looked down on her daughter, concern etched in her features. “I had hoped that Aderyn would take on the mantle that I would pass along one day. When she left, I took it upon myself to find another who would do so. From the moment she was born, I knew it would be Laura. But now she is dying. And all my greatest fears are here.”

  “That you may lose another daughter,” Aderyn said.

  “That the Anfarwol Order would end without the wisdom I can pass on to one of my children,” Fianna Hier said. She took a sip of her tea and moved to sit on the bed next to her daughter. “A life’s work wasted, knowledge lost.”

  “Losing a loved one is never easy,” Richard said, thinking back to his long-dead wife. He decided to ask the hard question. “How is it that you’ve lived these many centuries? A Druid like Aderyn can live with quite an extended life. But you are not a Druid. And not one of the Seelie or Unseelie, as far as I can tell.”

  The woman darkened, eyes turned fiery. “There are many forms of longevity in this world. And there are some secrets that should not be shared.”

  “You can tell me,” Richard pressed. “After all, I’m beholden to Myrddin Emrys, a man who has lived far longer than even you.”

  “It may help, Mother,” Aderyn added.

  “Knight of the Yn Saith,” Fianna Hier said, her mouth twisting ugly. “I have encountered your kind twice before. You do not know everything, and nor should you. If you cannot help her, the fate of my daughter will be as the phoenix wills it.” She paused, looking out the window. “On to happier things. We will have a joyous feast tonight. We will celebrate. And we will free the phoenix within its egg. We will dance and chant and call to those who came before and pray it will bless Laura back to health.”

  Richard did not want to fight with the Ard-Sagart. Too much was at stake with birthing the phoenix once more. Fianna Hier acted like cult leaders he had witnessed in the past—hiding information to create mystery that could be leveraged.

  Fianna Hier tipped her tea cup to Laura’s lips. Some of the liquid entered the other’s mouth. Richard was not sure, but he thought he saw vitality color her cheeks and a reduction in darkness beneath her eyes.

  The Heliwr gave Snedeker a look. The fairy returned it.

  What had transpired had not been lost on his fairy guide.

  “It has been a long trip,” Richard said. “I would love some of that tea to help rid the road’s dust from my tongue.”

  “The tea is for my family, and none other. But I shall find you refreshment that will be to your liking,” Fianna Hier said, standing to leave, brushing aside the knight’s wishes. “There is much to do. I will prepare the Order for the forthcoming joy.”

  “The fire . . . is . . . coming. And darkness,” Laura said then, eyes fluttering but not fully opening. Her mother stopped and turned, shock on her face.

  “What fire? What darkness?” Richard asked, leaning closer.

  “They rise, together,” Laura added. She turned her head then, weakly, eyes still closed but facing toward the backpack with the egg in it.

  As if she sensed it.

  “Laura, come back to us,” her mother said. “Please.”

  The daughter said nothing further though, returned to whatever coma she had been in. Fire and darkness couldn’t rise together. It made no sense. The words she had spoken infiltrated Richard, took root as worry. The phoenix. The ashterbach. The Anfarwol Order and its cult leader. The Druid. A fairy enchanted by the egg. It left Richard feeling cold inside, the Heliwr unable to unravel the puzzle before him.

  And all the while, he could not ignore how the Ard-Sagart had reacted to his request for a cup of tea.

  A tea that had lent a flush to her cheeks.

  He stood as well then, aware that his own magic might not be up to the test.

  What had he gotten himself into?

  The knock at the door tore Richard from fitful sleep.

  He swung his legs off the bed, awake in an instant. He had been tossing and turning, aware of every nighttime sound, discerning if it could be the ashterbach. He looked over at Aderyn. She sat in a chair across the room, having taken the first watch to keep the egg safe. Their eyes met. Snedeker had awoken too, th
e fairy fallen asleep upon the egg, in the best place to protect it. The Unseelie creature had not shown itself again—yet—leaving Richard with growing unease at why. And having observed the Anfarwol Order the previous evening, the Heliwr now believed they had fallen into a pit of vipers without knowing which snake would strike first.

  Richard stood and called the Dark Thorn. The warm wood materialized. With a nod to Aderyn, he went to the door and opened it.

  Fianna Hier stood in the doorway, cloaked and hooded. “We must go, Heliwr. Now.”

  Richard did not move. “Why?”

  The Ard-Sagart pushed her way in and closed the door. “By design,” she said, looking to her daughter. “The Anfarwol Order believes we will be releasing the phoenix tomorrow night. I wished that. A rebirth has never been done, not so long after its fiery death. I do not want outside influence impeding us.”

  “Like any group, there are factions?” Aderyn guessed.

  “I do not fear my Order companions, daughter,” she said. “I simply do not want a committee telling me how to do this. Even with centuries of study, I do not know how this will go, only the bits and pieces I’ve gleaned.”

  “Do you have the ashes?” Snedeker asked.

  Fianna Hier brought forth a small rock-hewn urn with a flame chiseled into its side.

  “The sooner the better,” Richard said, already gathering the pack with the egg. “We have waited too long already.”

  The four of them left the little home. Richard walked with the Dark Thorn before him, sending tendrils of magic into the night, seeking any danger that could lie in wait. He discovered none. The moon had risen, casting a weak light for them to see by, and the shadows lay thick beneath the canopy of ancient trees they passed under. Snedeker flew from tree to tree, a blur of quicksilver above. Only the sounds of an awake night greeted them as they traveled upward along well-worn paths, diamonds within the star-strewn sky seen between thinning leaves. Upon reflection, the Heliwr was pleased Fianna Hier had decided this course of action. Fewer people present meant he could focus on protecting the egg if the ashterbach attacked—without worry of innocent people getting hurt.

  When they gained the massive thrust of white granite at the mountain’s top, Richard swept the area with his magic, as did Snedeker. They were alone. The Heliwr noticed the Anfarwol Order had been busy during the day, dry firewood logs added to the existing stacks along the rock edifice. It was the only change that he witnessed though; the carved life stages of the phoenix still bore the scars of past fire.

  “Bring forth the egg, Heliwr of the Yn Saith Richard McAllister,” Fianna Hier said with formality, standing upon the ash-smeared stone. She held the urn with its ashes.

  Richard let the Dark Thorn fade and did as he was instructed, removing the egg from its pack. The crystal warmed his hands, pulsing with life. The orange-purple light of the phoenix within had lessened after so many attacks, but the Heliwr could feel its vibrant life still. He took a steadying breath as he placed the egg upon the ashes that Fianna Hier had scattered upon the rock at her feet.

  “Step back,” Fianna Hier instructed, eyes alight.

  Richard and Aderyn did, but only a few steps. Snedeker sat upon the Heliwr’s shoulder, hopeful eyes staring at the egg.

  Fianna Hier began to chant then, arms raised as if calling power from the sky.

  “What is she doing?” Richard whispered to Aderyn.

  “I do not know,” the Druid said, frowning. “I have been gone a long time, but this chant and language is not something I have discovered in my own pursuits. It is . . . dark.”

  As the words echoed off the granite, the light inside the egg began to twist this way and that, becoming more frantic with every word spoken.

  “Rick!” Snedeker yelled. “The phoenix is afraid.”

  Recalling the Dark Thorn, the Heliwr strode forward, to put an end to whatever was going on and to demand answers, when he caught a vast darkness gathering in the night sky. It deepened until the ashterbach landed upon the rock face above, giant talons gripping the granite, baleful eyes glinting malevolence.

  “Mother!” Aderyn yelled, bringing her fiery magic to bear.

  The Ard-Sagart paid her no heed.

  “Do not approach, daughter!”

  Snedeker shot like a dart at the creature, unwavering, his silver dust thrown above and at the ashterbach. The Unseelie screeched rage and deflected it, the dust exploding fire along the birdlike monster’s shielding wings, the fairy’s magic not harming it. Roaring, Richard sent his fire at the beast as well, trying to keep the ashterbach from falling upon Fianna Hier and destroying the egg.

  “Mother, no!” Aderyn screamed from his side. Richard glimpsed what the Druid had already seen.

  A hammer in her hand—even as she brought it down as if to an anvil.

  The crystal shrieked at the strike, as did the light within. It couldn’t be the way to rebirth the phoenix. Confirming his fears, Aderyn was upon her mother like a wailing banshee, arms coated in angry flame, the Druid trying to wrestle the weapon away and keep it from hitting the egg again.

  Richard had no time to help or even react. The ashterbach attacked, flying at the knight, a landslide of darkness falling. It was all he could do to stay on his feet, bringing the power of the Dark Thorn up as a shield like he had done so many times already. The Unseelie creature raged at the magic, trying to fight through its protection. It clawed and bit. It smothered him with its tendrils and wings. The Heliwr felt his limited strength waning, the man pressed into the ground, the air about him filled with the shadow of rotting, dead things.

  One giant talon made its way through his magic—and picked him up effortlessly, flinging him like a pebble.

  Encasing himself in a cocoon of magic, Richard still gritted his teeth as he slammed into the ground yards away from the carved stone edifice. Stunned, he regained his footing.

  It was too late. The ashterbach already rushed toward the egg.

  Richard yelled warning, running to help, but Snedeker had already seen the danger. The fairy had taken up a defensive posture over Aderyn, who now cradled her unmoving mother in her arms near the phoenix egg, the leader of the Anfarwol Order staring vacantly at nothing. When Snedeker saw the coming Unseelie, he flew overhead, tiny pack with its dust held at the ready. The feathery tendrils of the ashterbach reached for him. The fairy threw his remaining silvery dust at the beast, a last-ditch effort to keep safe the phoenix.

  It was not enough. The Unseelie creature swiped the dust away even as its beak snapped upon the body of the fairy, dark magic coursing into its prey.

  Snedeker vaporized, spit out as ash on the air.

  “No!” Richard yelled.

  The Dark Thorn became hotter in his hands than it had ever been, the wood barely able to channel all the fury within him to the fore.

  Wrapped in its darkness, the ashterbach reached for the egg.

  Powered by the death of his longtime fairy guide and friend, Richard sent his magic at the nightmare creature. Fire became a hurricane within him. Driven by need. By vengeance. By sorrow. The Unseelie creature fought him, dark wings beating at the knight, but it would not relent. Magic coursed in his blood and heart, but it would not be enough. He didn’t care though. He would burn it to cinders or be consumed himself.

  “Heliwr! The fire to me!” Aderyn screamed.

  Heat threatened to undo him, the flames he had called into existence hotter than any dragon’s furnace. He saw what the Druid wanted then. He sent his power forward, not at the descending ashterbach but at Aderyn Hier. She sat now with the egg upon her dead mother’s lap even as she cradled both, the Druid alive with fire that did not kill her somehow. When Richard’s fire met her own, Aderyn absorbed the torrent of power, channeling it, becoming one with it. It twisted around her and upward in a tornado of yellows, reds, and oranges, fending off the ashterbach for a small time. Not immune to the fire, Fianna Hier blackened, hair disintegrating, then flesh, and after that even her bones. Red-
hot ash of her mother coated Aderyn while the Druid held onto the egg, but the ashterbach did not stop.

  A loud crack shattered the night—and the phoenix rose from the broken crystal of its egg, the orange-purple flame coming into contact with the air and erupting into a brilliance of fire forming the shape of a bird, not as a hatchling but as a rival to the ashterbach’s size. The phoenix rose above them, growing, expanding, its fire-tipped wings reaching wide into the night sky. It seemed to encompass the world.

  The ashterbach attacked, seemingly not concerned by the great bird’s appearance, grappling with its fiery foe. The phoenix pulled power from Aderyn Hier, draining the fire that she and Richard had created. It latched onto the Unseelie creature with talons of its own and sent the fire coursing into an enemy that had killed so many of its kind.

  The ashterbach howled once—fighting to get free—before the power flushed the darkness of its body and disintegrated it into melted nighttime shadows.

  Peace filled the night.

  The Unseelie hunter was no more.

  —Heliwr of the Yn Saith Richard McAllister—

  The voice entered his mind; it sounded like the crackling of a fire.

  Richard looked up from where he knelt, where he had seen the ashes of his fairy guide fall, tears for the loss of his friend making his vision blurry. The phoenix hovered above him, brighter than the day, its form etched in flame, heat pouring off of it from its ethereal release. The heat should have burned him but it did him no harm, as if it had embraced him. He had rarely seen anything so beautiful or more alive.

  “I am here,” he said simply.

  —I am what once was, from whence my long days had forgotten. You gave my memory remembrance. Your companion gave his life so that memory could become real again. It is a life that I owe you—

  Richard looked around, dazed. Aderyn lay on the stone shelf, unmoving. No evidence of her mother existed. All that remained there were the crystal shards of the phoenix egg, crystal that had once been lovingly caressed by Snedeker—a fairy who only wanted to help another creature live.