Faerie Tale

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Faerie Tale Page 11

by Nicola Rhodes


  Still Tamar hesitated and suddenly it came to Denny in a flash.

  ‘Hecaté,’ he said. ‘It was Hecaté, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I asked her, yes,’ said Tamar.

  ‘And she bargained to give up your freedom?’ Denny could hardly believe it.

  ‘It doesn’t work like that,’ said Tamar. ‘She had no choice. If I hadn’t given something up she wouldn’t have been able to do it. It’s the way it is. And I needed her to do it. It was my choice. Don’t blame her.’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Denny meaningfully. ‘You could talk a dwarf out of drinking, a mermaid out of swimming, a …’

  ‘… A woman out of letting the man she loves die,’ finished Tamar.

  ‘Really?’ said Denny bitterly. ‘Which one of us did you have in mind?’

  ~ Chapter Eighteen ~

  The gypsies all appeared to have gone. The camp was deserted anyway, and it looked as if something bad had happened here.

  ‘We are sure that they were gypsies?’ said Stiles. ‘I mean, considering who their king was.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Tamar. ‘They were, at least most of them anyway. Finvarra just took over because they had power he could use. I’m almost certain,’ she added.

  ‘Do you think they knew who he was?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ she shrugged.

  ‘What power?’ said Cindy. ‘I know that gypsies use magic, but Faerie magic is much more powerful.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Tamar. ‘I wonder. He must have thought they had something.’

  ‘You mean you don’t know,’ pointed out Denny. ‘They’re all gone now anyway, so who cares? Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Yes Master,’ said Tamar automatically. Denny frowned, but no one seemed to notice.

  ‘Never mind,’ he said.

  Stiles stirred up some debris with his foot. He thought he saw a gleam – something shiny. He reached down and picked it up.

  ‘Hey,’ he called them over. ‘What this?’

  It was a strange looking thing. A sort of open glove made out of bright silver filigreed metal. A ring for each finger was attached by wires to a vambrace that fitted up the arm and in the centre, where it would sit in the palm, was a large green jewel.

  On the vambrace there were symbols.

  Hecaté shook her head. ‘This is a very old language’ she said. ‘Denny?’

  He took it and studied it. ‘Druidic runes,’ he said. ‘I can make out the word “god” or it might be “avatar”.’ He shook his head. ‘I’d need my reference books.’

  He handed it back to Stiles and before Denny could stop him Stiles slipped it over his hand.

  ‘No,’ yelled Denny alarmingly. ‘Take it off, take it off,’

  It was too late; it was not coming off. They all watched in horrified fascination as it put out tendrils into Stiles’s skin. His arm went stiff, and it was possible to see the tendrils extending under the skin further up his arm in a moving fretwork. Stiles went grey. ‘Oh shit!’ he said.

  Then his arm relaxed, and it seemed to be over. Except that the thing now seemed to be permanently attached to Stiles’s hand and arm. His arm now looked as if he were wearing a gauntlet made of wires, and it shone in the sunlight.

  Stiles was still staring at his arm in horror when Denny said. ‘Well, that was a bloody stupid thing to do wasn’t it?’ and stalked off angrily.

  ‘What’s up with him?’ said Cindy as Tamar hurried after him. ‘He’s been like that ever since we all came back – you know from the dead or whatever. Looks like he’d be glad he isn’t dead. I am.’

  Hecaté looked guiltily at her feet.

  ‘There’s nothing more to see here,’ said Stiles briskly. ‘Denny’s right – on both counts – it was a bloody stupid thing to do, and we should get out of here now.’

  ‘Are you okay then?’ asked Cindy.

  ‘That remains to be seen,’ said Stiles. ‘But I feel all right so far anyway.’

  He looked up sharply. ‘Faeries!’ he said.

  ‘Where?’ said Hecaté looking around.

  ‘Over there in the trees.’ And he pointed a finger from which a blinding shaft of light shot out into the shadows accompanied by a distant shrieking then quiet.

  There was a stunned silence, during which Stiles looked bemusedly at his loaded finger.

  ‘Oh shit!’ he said again. That seemed to cover it.

  * * *

  ‘Denny!’

  He had his back to her and would not turn round.

  ‘Denny please, we can’t go on like this.’

  Stony silence reigned. Denny hunched his shoulders, clenched his fists but said nothing.

  Denny …?

  ‘Do you hate me?’ he said suddenly. ‘Is that what it is?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You gave up everything I gave you,’ he said, and he was sure he was being childish and nasty. ‘There must have been another way,’ he added.

  Tamar was aghast. He had never talked like this before. Denny had given her her freedom, but he never ever mentioned it – never. Never expected gratitude for anything he did. Was she ungrateful? Did he really think so?

  ‘I didn’t do this lightly,’ she said defensively. ‘I had to.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you were going to die. Do you get that?

  ‘In a war that you started,’ Denny pointed out unreasonably.

  ‘I didn’t start it,’ she said. ‘The Faeries …’

  ‘You put together an army,’ he said. ‘You said we should fight, and I’m not saying that you weren’t right – you were. But …’

  He turned. ‘You knew what would happen. You planned for it.’ he sighed. ‘I just want to know what the hell is going on. There’s more to this. I know you – remember? You didn’t do all this just so we could fight and die and achieve nothing. And you didn’t just decide to give up your freedom at the last minute because you couldn’t hack it. You’re up to something. You planned the whole thing, and it’s time to let me in on it, don’t you think?

  ‘If I knew why,’ he said quietly. ‘I might be able to handle this better. I need to know why.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You do don’t you.’

  ‘I could order you to tell me,’ he told her. ‘But I won’t do that. It’s wrong, and besides … it’s, well it’s you, isn’t it. You know what I mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said ‘I know.’

  ‘So …?’

  ‘I did it to give us an advantage, that’s all. There’s no way this is going to be won by fighting. She knows it, but she doesn’t know that we know it. I gave her what she expected, and now that she thinks we’re all dead she’ll let her guard down.’

  ‘All?’

  ‘I slipped off her radar when I went back into the bottle. It’s the will she can detect you see, the free will of the mind. And anyway, she has no idea what I really am. She thinks – thought – I was a witch or something.’

  ‘And now that her guard is down?’

  ‘There’s nothing more powerful than the combination of a Djinn and her Master. Alone, I was out of my depth but together we can’t lose.’*

  ‘You were never alone,’ said Denny sadly. ‘I’m sorry that you didn’t realise that.’

  ‘This is different,’ she said.

  *[When Tamar was freed from the bottle, although she retained her powers she technically became a mortal, which meant that the strength of her powers was necessarily diminished. She could, for example, die – if someone killed her hard enough.]

  ‘It certainly is,’ he agreed ironically.

  ‘I meant … What the hell was that?’

  * * *

  ‘What do you mean, it’s probably nothing to worry about? His eyes were glowing!’

  Denny shrugged. ‘I’ll translate the text on the arm band,’ he offered indifferently. Tamar, he mused, had not really changed all that much as a result of her … what would you call it, re-enslavement? At least not on the surface of it – she still act
ed the same way anyway. If he had not known, he wondered, would he have guessed?

  ‘I need a drink,’ he said and stalked off.

  She did not even try to stop him.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he thought. ‘I would have guessed.’

  Stiles himself was the least worried of any of them. He felt fine, more than fine actually and was, therefore, disinclined to argue with recent events. At last, he had a power. He had not exactly been hankering after supernatural powers and it was not as if he had been treated any differently for being the only one without. He had always known he had a contribution to make. But he had wondered what it would be like, and he had been aware of the difference, it just had not bothered him.

  He was being treated differently now though. Which was ironic really, when you came to think about it. Everyone – except Denny he noticed – was stepping on eggshells around him. If he had not known better, he would have said they were afraid. Whether they were afraid of him or for him, was hard to say.

  The problem, according to Tamar, was that they had no idea where his new powers had come from or what kind of power it was. They had been down this road before, she pointed out, when Denny had found the Athame. The truth was they were all getting a little nervous of Stiles. Denny had shown definite signs of being taken over by an evil nature during the early part of his guardianship of the Athame. Stiles, while he did not appear to be evil exactly, was manifesting powers that seemed to the others to be distinctly Faerie like.

  It had almost been too late by the time Tamar had discovered Denny’s slippery slope toward evil. She did not intend to make the same mistake twice. That was why she had to make Denny see how important it was to find out about the … glove thingy. He was just going to have to get over himself.

  * * *

  Even Cindy had noticed that Denny was drinking pretty heavily at the moment. And he was not the friendly amiable drunk that he had once been; he had become a surly drunk, moody and unapproachable. Tamar marched into the dining room, a place which, at the moment anyway, angels would fear to tread.

  At first, it seemed to be empty then a figure detached itself from the shadows in the corner. He had a bottle in his hand and was lurching slightly. He regarded the bottle venomously for a moment then hurled it into the fireplace where it smashed satisfyingly.

  Tamar sighed and picked up her bottle from the hearth ‘That never works you know,’ she said.

  ‘I know,’ said Denny. ‘That’s the fifth time I’ve tried it. Today anyway,’ he added.

  Tamar waved a surreptitious hand and sobered Denny up instantly.*

  *[She used to use a foul potion for this, but that was just to teach him a lesson. Now she was in a hurry]

  ‘What did you do that for?’ he asked indignantly.

  ‘Jack needs your help,’ she said bluntly. ‘Your friend,’ she added slyly acerbic. ‘The one who risked his life in the Faerie castle to save you. Remember?

  ‘What about him?’ said Denny. ‘He’s all right isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s … not himself,’ said Tamar uncertainly.

  ‘Who is around here?’

  ‘Denny!’ she said warningly.

  ‘All right, all right.’ He shifted his persona and became … well, himself again. ‘The engraving said something about an Avatar,’ he continued. ‘I’ll need to …’

  ‘Avatar?’ interrupted. ‘What’s that? Is it anything like a Faerie?’

  ‘What? No, why would you say that?’

  ‘Jack’s acting awfully … Faerie like. You haven’t noticed?’

  ‘Okay, I’ll get right on it,’ he said. ‘And … I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit …’

  ‘Upset?’

  ‘Yeah well… that’s as good a word as any I suppose.’

  * * *

  It was good to see Denny back at the computer console; it made things seem almost normal (as normal as things get around here anyway) Tamar felt.

  Stiles had held out his wrist co-operatively to let Denny copy down the runes.

  ‘Stop it,’ said Denny as he scribbled on his pad.

  ‘What?’ said Stiles, innocently.

  ‘Changing the runes,’ said Denny. ‘I can see you, you know? I’m not deaf.’

  ‘Blind,’ said Tamar automatically.

  ‘I wasn’t doing it,’ protested Stiles. ‘It does it all the time.’

  Denny narrowed his eyes. Stiles was lying he was sure. For one thing, the runes were not exactly changing; it was only his perception of them, as if he had oil in his eyes. Had he been an ordinary human, he would never have noticed.

  ‘We can’t trust him anymore,’ he realised with a shock. He looked at Tamar with a startled expression.

  She nodded; it was what she had been trying to tell him.

  Eventually, though, Denny thought he had got enough to begin researching the runes. The results were surprising even by their standards.

  ~ Chapter Nineteen ~

  Long ago there lived an ancient race of peoples known as the Tuatha De Danann. These were the people of the god Leir who inhabited the world before the coming of man. When the men arrived, they battled the Tuatha De Danann and forced them to retreat underground where they are believed to have lived in hollowed out hills.

  Their descendants became known as the Sidhe.

  Leir, on returning to the world of men, saw the descendants of his people and was ashamed for they had become feckless and cruel.

  So, he took the four great treasures of the Tuatha De Danann, the Spear of Lugh, the Stone of Fal and the Sword of Nuada and the Dagda’s Cauldron and he melted the spear and the sword in the cauldron and forged a gauntlet by plunging his living hand into the molten metal and in his palm was the stone. As the metal cooled, all Leir’s power was transferred into the stone through the steel. And he wrote upon the gauntlet he had made. Anelivinge man who bareth this steel shalle be thee Avatar of thee great Leir that his powere on earthe shalle nevere bee loste.*

  *[Leir’s spelling was terrible. All gods are like this. If it’s them writing it then it must be right, right? This explains a lot about “Olde Englishe”]

  For he knew already that the power of the old gods was waning on earth, his people were all gone and all that were left were the Sidhe who he utterly rejected. And so he chose Humankind to receive his power and charged them that they must rid the world of the Sidhe. And the first to wear the gauntlet was Oman, Chief of the Gaels – sons of Mil, also known as Milesians. And in time the gauntlet passed to the druids, and the witch clans also had their custody of the power of Leir, and the Sidhe were defeated – for a time.

  Then time passed, and knowledge was lost, and the gauntlet of Leir passed into the unknown and was forgotten. And the Sidhe returned, and they were angry.

  Denny clapped Stiles on the back. ‘Congratulations mate,’ he said heartily. ‘Your first time out and you’ve made god.’

  He looked slyly at Stiles and added. ‘But of course, you knew that already didn’t you?’

  The others looked questioningly at Stiles.

  He shrugged. ‘I had an idea,’ he admitted. ‘I can feel his thoughts – sort of, but I can’t make head nor tail of them mostly.’ He looked at Denny apprehensively. ‘You don’t mind?’ he asked.

  ‘Mind?’ said Denny perplexed. ‘Why should I mind – Oh, I see, because I’m only a …. Well, whatever I am. No I don’t mind.’

  ‘He has the power of a Djinn,’ said Tamar. ‘Dependant on no one. He’s still more powerful than you are even if it doesn’t sound as good.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to say anything,’ said Denny. ‘It seemed – tactless.’ And he glared at Tamar.

  ‘Yes,’ she said unconcernedly. ‘It’s in bad taste to gloat, but that’s why I did it for you. Sometimes things just need putting in perspective.’

  ‘Shut up,’

  ‘Yes Master … oops.’

  Stiles raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

  ‘How does it work then?’ asked Cindy getting them back on tra
ck.

  Stiles hesitated. ‘I think it’s connected to my brain through the central nervous system,’ he said. ‘When I put it on, I could feel it spreading through me – really weird feeling, by the way – anyway, I just have to think something and the gauntlet does it.’

  ‘Your mind relays the instructions to the gauntlet?’ said Denny.

  ‘Yes, I’m not doing anything, it’s the gauntlet that does it, I just tell it what to do. It’s borrowed power. I won’t live forever, and when I die the gauntlet will come off ready to be passed on.’

  ‘An Avatar,’ said Tamar. ‘That’s not the same as being a god then?’

  ‘It means that he’s the personification of a god, or the idea of a god,’ said Denny.

  ‘I am the living embodiment of the concept of belief that was the god Leir,’ said Stiles somewhat pompously. ‘I have the powers attributed to him and the memories, although they are somewhat nebulous, of his time as a sentient being, before he died.’

  ‘In other words,’ said Denny, translating. ‘Leir’s in there somewhere.’

  ‘I am me, and also him,’ said Stiles.

  ‘Then he isn’t dead, is he?’ said Cindy. ‘Not really. He found a way to carry on.’

  ‘Can you control it – him, I mean?’ said Tamar.

  ‘It’s not like that,’ said Stiles. ‘I’m not a split personality. Leir’s aims in passing on his power were not selfish. I just remember him. He’s not me – or I’m not him – whatever.’

  He turned to Denny. ‘Help me out here,’ he said. ‘I know you understand. When you took the Athame, you got the powers of the demon, but you were still you, right?’

  ‘No,’ said Denny.

  ‘Oh, that’s right,’ said Stiles temporarily derailed.

  ‘And was it you or Leir that tried to stop us from finding all this out?’ said Tamar suspiciously.

  ‘It was the gauntlet itself,’ said Stiles, ‘protecting itself.’

  ‘But I thought it took it’s instructions from you,’ she countered. ‘And why didn’t you tell us yourself about all this?’ she continued mercilessly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said weakly. ‘I just couldn’t tell you for some reason. I felt peculiarly inhibited about it, like it was this big secret.’ He brightened up a little. ‘But it’s okay now that you know.’

 

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