by Emma Hamm
“I’d like to see you try.” Eamonn tilted his head back to reveal his ragged neck wound. “It’s already been attempted a few times.”
“Aye, I remember you swinging up there.”
“I remember you dragged away in chains.”
“Tis a shame neither of us won our freedom that day.”
The dwarf behind him inhaled. Eamonn thought it rather pathetic that he didn’t realize sooner the two men knew each other.
Eamonn straightened his shoulders and placed his hands on his thighs. “Are you going to make me kneel for the rest of this conversation?”
“I rather like you on your knees.”
“Just so you can finally look me in the eyes?”
Angus snorted and hopped down from the throne. His heavy boots echoed as they struck the ground. He paused in front of Eamonn, planted his hands on his hips, and shook his head. “Shame that you’re right. You’ll have to lose your legs just so you can’t look down on me.”
“As if you’d ever let me.”
“All right, since you’re so handsome. Stand up.”
The dwarves surrounding them gasped as Eamonn rose to his full height. He slapped a hand against Angus’s shoulder and grinned. “You’re lucky I recognized you, otherwise we might have come to blows. You’ve changed, old friend.”
“And what would you have done if you didn’t? We’d have swarmed you.”
“Unless you’ve got your pickaxes handy, I don’t think it would have done much.”
“No,” Angus shook his head with a trouble expression. “It’s gotten worse.”
“It will only continue to worsen.”
“It’s no curse then?”
“No.”
“Shame.” Angus turned towards his people and waved his hands. “Off with you. I can take it from here.”
“But sire—”
“I said no, Cait.” He addressed her with affection. “You’ve done your scouting duty well. Return to your training.”
She huffed and joined the others, glancing over her shoulder before leaving the throne room.
Silence echoed in the large underground hall. Eamonn's own people were tongue tied, staring at Angus and he as if they’d conjured magic out of their palms.
Cian was the first to break the silence. “What the bloody hell was that?”
“This is Angus,” Eamonn turned with his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “An old friend from my days serving the previous king.”
“When you were fighting the Unseelie?”
He nodded. “Angus was one of the few dwarves who willingly joined the fight. He was a remarkable warrior.”
“Still am,” Angus quipped. “Don’t you be questioning my capabilities.”
“In my experience, sitting on a throne does little to sharpen the blade.”
“You have little experience sitting upon a throne.” Angus’s voice took a hard edge. “That fool twin of yours is hardly an example of a good king.”
“In that, we agree.” Eamonn gestured towards the faeries he brought with him. “Food and lodging?”
“Absolutely.”
While Angus called out for his people, Eamonn prepared his. “They’ll bring you food and water. I don’t know what kind of hospitality they’ll offer, but I assume they’ll at least provide beds. Get a good night’s rest.”
“I’ll stay with you, boy.” Cian straightened his cloak with a grimace. “I don’t like the idea of you here without one of us by your side.”
“Angus is trustworthy.”
“And you don’t always make the right decisions when you aren’t thinking straight.”
“This is my battle to fight, my friend.” Eamonn clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It is appreciated, but I’ll need you healthy for the rest of this journey.”
He grumbled, but followed the tiny dwarf woman who led them all from the throne room.
Angus perched on the arm of his throne, looking Eamonn up and down with a critical glance. “You look like you’ve been rolling with the pigs.”
“I’ve been on Hy-brasil.”
“Same thing then.”
“You could say that.” Eamonn held his hands out at his side. “I came in peace.”
“Ocras is out in the open. I’d dare say that wasn’t your intention.”
“One can never be too careful with dwarves.”
“Now that is the truth.” Angus bounced his knee before blurting, “Why are you here, Eamonn?”
“I want to kill the king.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Eamonn clenched his fists and forced himself to remain still. Angus would not refuse him. It was sheer luck he had become Lord and not one of his many brothers. Angus knew first-hand what Fionn could do to the Seelie Fae.
The dwarf pulled a blade from his hip and dug it underneath his nails. “You’re going against blood? Since when?”
“Fionn has crossed the line.”
“He didn’t cross the line when he tried to hang you?”
“Don’t focus on my misgivings. He is my brother, Angus. I had no desire to turn my back on the only family I have left.”
“So I ask again, what changed?”
“He attacked my home,” Eamonn growled. “He attacked my people.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate the change of heart, but it doesn’t sound like you. You’ve never cared that much. He played you. What the hell changed to make you go soft?”
He saw red hair stirring in the breeze, trailing over freckled skin so white it was nearly milk. Dirty fingernails with blood caked underneath from helping heal his people, even though he didn’t want her to. Eamonn heard her name dance in the air and tasted sunshine on his tongue.
“I gained perspective.”
“You met a woman.”
Eamonn glared.
“In my experience, that’s the only reason a man would change his entire outlook on life. She must be a stunning faerie to have convinced you to return home.”
“She’s not Fae.”
“A human?” Angus’s knife slipped and cut his thumb. Fat drops of blood dripped to the floor, but he didn’t react. “You fell for a human?”
“I fell for no one.”
“A human, Eamonn? One of the unwashed creatures who swarm their world and destroy everything in their path?”
“She’s not like the others.”
“Oh, none of them are like the others. That’s how all the stories go until they turn on you and go back home. Just how badly do you hate yourself?”
“She wouldn’t leave,” he growled. The large hall suddenly felt tiny as the walls closed in on him. “Be wise, Angus, and still your tongue.”
“I don’t see her in your crew, thus I am correct. She left and now what? You want to take back the throne so she’ll return to your arms? Grateful a king would want to place her on the throne next to him?”
A slow warning growl rumbled through Eamonn’s chest. “Choose your next words carefully, friend.”
“You’ll attack me over a woman? How the tables have turned.” Angus hopped from his throne and tucked his knife back into his waistcloth. “I cannot provide as much help as you’d like. Your brother has attacked the dwarves too many times.”
“All I ask is for a few men to fight by my side.”
“I don’t have even a small number. I have enough to keep this stronghold safe while still helping out the other tunnels. You’ll have to make due with five.”
Eamonn grunted. “Five men? You want me to kill the king with five men?”
“You were a great general once. Think like that man again.”
Angus had lost his mind. There wasn’t a flaming chance that Eamonn could pull off the greatest assassination their people had ever seen with five dwarves, a gnome, a boggart, and a pixie at his disposal. No matter how renowned he was in battle, Eamonn would fail.
“I go to war,” he gritted through his teeth. “And you say I should fight with five men?”
“I didn’t
say I wouldn't help in other ways.” Angus rolled his eyes. “Easy there, Untouched. Your quick temper hasn’t changed in all this time I see. Follow me.”
“Where?”
“Ocras has served you well, but she won’t be a match for thousands.”
“And you have a sword that will be?”
“It’s not just any sword. I have the sword of Nuada.”
Eamonn’s heart jumped into his throat. The sword of Nuada was a legendary blade, passed down through his grandfather’s line. No one had seen it in hundreds of years. All the relics of the original Tuatha dé Danann had disappeared long ago.
Until now.
“You have the sword of Nuada?”
“I do.”
“And you told no one until now?”
Angus scoffed. “Just who would I be telling? Your brother?”
“Why are you telling me?”
They descended a stairwell from the main throne room. Living space gave way to a giant cave system with networks of halls that disappeared deep into the earth. Pulley systems lifted dwarves up and down the great mines, all lit by a channel of lava that poured out of vats from above.
“Of all the royalty in the Seelie court, you’re the only one I’d trust not to use this blade against my people.”
“Why’s that?”
“I fought with you, Eamonn. I’ve seen what you can do with a sword and I’ve seen how you treat the Lesser Fae. You didn’t see us as base creatures.” Angus’s reflection in the polished stone walls revealed his grimace. “I hope I can trust your opinion to be the same now.”
“It’s been a long time. I fell into the affliction carried by my brethren.”
“No longer?”
“You can thank the little human for that.”
“Oh?” Angus’s voice lifted in curiosity. “What’s she got to do with all this?”
“She saw them as equals, even when I could not.”
“I think I would like this girl.”
“Most do.”
“But still so foolish that she left you?”
Eamonn growled. “That was my doing.”
“Ah.” Angus maneuvered them around dwarven miners who stared up at the beastly man walking among them. Most shied away from meeting his gaze although a few glowered as they passed. “Then it is not she who is the fool.”
He couldn’t agree more. He had been a fool to force her to leave, but there had been no other option.
Eamonn refused to put her in harm’s way. His brother would try to use her as a pawn. The Seelie would fight to capture her, to tear her from his side and do unspeakable things just to make her talk.
She was innocent. She did not know the ways of the Fae, nor did she know how to protect herself. Of all people, he would preserve that innocence with his last breath.
As they passed another group of dwarves, he flexed his crystal hand and told himself this would all be over soon. If he had the sword of Nuada, others would surely follow him. The dwarves may not fight, but there were many more creatures he could call upon.
They would follow the High King of the Seelie Fae to the pits of hell. Or he would force them.
And once all this was done, he could find her again.
Eamonn sobered at the thought. Time passed differently in her world. She may be an old woman, with wrinkles and frail bones. He’d never seen an aged human before. They weren’t often found in the Otherworld.
“In here,” Angus grunted. “And try to keep your wits about you, Eamonn.”
The dwarf was right. Eamonn forgot too easily where he was. The dwarven strongholds were mazes that even the most intelligent of Fae could get lost in. He needed to pay attention to where they were, in case Angus left him in the dark.
Angus reached up and pulled a lever. The pail attached to it dropped, pouring lava into a trough that spilled out into the most incredible treasure room Eamonn had ever seen.
Gold stretched as far as the eye could see. Mountains of coins, gemstones, and armor piled atop each other as if they didn’t matter in the slightest. These items should be displayed, placed in a setting of honor. A crown caught his eye, diamonds glittering in the solid metal.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“The place we put things we want to forget.”
“You put the sword of Nuada in this room?” Anger raced through his blood, hot and hard.
“I hid the sword of Nuada in this room. Great beards! Would you calm down?”
He had never controlled his anger well. Long ago, when war was in his blood and rage flickered at the edges of his vision, he had rode the waves of anger like a captain guiding a ship. He’d gotten too good at convincing people he wasn’t a split second from tearing out their throat.
“Just get it over with,” he growled.
“Eager to get your hands on the weapon that could change the tide of war?”
“It is my grandfather’s sword, and I still don’t think you have it.”
Angus arched a thick brow and plunged his hand into a mountain of treasure. Gold fell in an avalanche all around him, trickling down in great waves that sounded like dripping water. Each clink grated on Eamonn’s ears until he could barely stand it.
He watched with rapt attention as Angus pulled his arm out of the pile and brandished the most beautiful blade in all of history.
Claíomh Solais. The Sword of Light.
Red stones glittered in the pommel of the sword, each like a tiny drop of blood. The gold hilt tapered into the open mouth of a wolf that swallowed the rest of the blade. It was a beautiful blade. Light glinted off the sharpened edge, runes scribed into the flat edges spoke of the battles it had survived. And won.
Angus pulled it back when Eamonn reached for it. “Not so fast. You know the legends of this sword?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know what it can do.”
“It carries the power of manipulation, controlling the minds of others once the blade is drawn. Yes, I know, Angus.”
The dwarf grimaced. “I’m handing you a very powerful weapon, Eamonn. Please take this seriously.”
“Do you know the legends?” Eamonn’s lips split into a feral grin. “That blade will only work in the hand of the high king.”
Angus pointed the tip at Eamonn’s belly. “Kneel.”
“No.”
“Walk away.”
“No, dwarf.”
“Remove yourself from this mountain and never return.”
“Are you quite done?”
Angus shrugged. “I wanted to see if you were telling the truth. Do you want to see if you’re really the high king?”
Did he? Eamonn wasn’t so certain. He’d spent a majority of his life avoiding his birthright.
He licked his lips and held out his hand. “It’s far past time I accepted my heritage.”
“You’re certain?”
“Give me the sword, Angus.”
Although Angus’s face twisted in worry, he extended the hilt towards Eamonn.
Licking his lips, Eamonn reached forward and grasped the wolf head. Cold metal struck frigid stone, and fire raced through his blood.
He gasped and staggered backwards, holding the sword with both hands now in fear he would drop it. The wolf’s mouth opened and closed in a frenzy as it tried to swallow the blade. The desperate thumping of his own heart echoed until Eamonn’s eyes burned.
A pulse of magic filled the room, lifting the gold coins into the air and dropping them all with a boom that shook the walls of the cave. He clenched his fists around the haft of the blade and willed it to still. It would bend to his will.
The wolf exhaled and blue fire licked up the sword of Nuada. Twisting and hot, it burned the tips of his fingers. Crystals formed on the palm that had not yet been ruined.
Through it all, Eamonn gritted his teeth. He would bear it. If this was the price the blade had chosen, then he would pay it. His physical form would withstand the pain because he refused to break.
He heard the growl of a wolf in his ear and the pleased chuckle of his grandfather.
“Well met, grandson. Take the blade; it is yours.”
Another blast of magic fluttered his cloak, and all fell still. Fire cooled. Wind quieted. All he could hear was the ragged breath of the dwarf and the creak of crystal as he peeled his hand from the sword.
“What kind of cursed magic was that?” Angus spat out.
“That was my grandfather.”
“So, you are the High King of the Seelie Fae?”
“It appears so.”
“I will not bow.”
“I would not expect you to,” Eamonn said. He pointed the blade towards the dwarf and growled, “What other relics do you have hiding in this place?”
Angus struggled, clasping a hand around his throat while his face turned bright red. His body twisted and crumpled to the ground as he fought against the blade’s magic. “I will cut out my tongue before I tell you,” he choked.
“Then be free, old friend.”
Eamonn dropped the blade. Angus fell limp, panting as he stared up at Eamonn with a shocked expression.
“You’ve changed,” the dwarf observed.
“Time is not on my side. Now, we will talk about the army you have hidden in this mountain.”
“I don’t have an army hidden.”
Eamonn pointed the sword once more, arching a brow when Angus gulped. “Twisting your words will not deter me. We both know you aren’t telling me the whole truth.”
“I will not put my people at risk.”
“Don’t make me force you, Angus.”
“The man I fought beside would never stoop so low.”
Eamonn swallowed hard and cast his gaze from his oldest friend. “Then I suggest you choose wisely. There is no other choice I can make. Fionn must fall.”
“The dwarves have no army.”
“Then I suggest you find one. Quickly.”
The Dreams Of Witches
The hovering drop of liquid fell from the vial, splashing against Papa’s tongue. He was the last she treated and the most stubborn. Sorcha had argued with him night after night, but he refused. He always put his girls first, even though he had suffered the longest.
She didn’t want to heal them all at the same time. Who knew what was really in the vial that her druid grandfather had given her? She didn't want to risk their health on the word of a strange old man.