by Trisha Telep
“Of course, he could simply have dropped them off at the cave which means they’re about to win.”
Bridget slipped her hands around his waist and hugged him tight, resting her cheek against his back. “Elwich is a strong warrior, but has little patience with man or beast. He couldn’t even grasp the idea of asking a steed to bear them, any more than he could ask a woman to accompany him back to the sithen.”
He should know the answer, but doubt had filtered in at her ease in this world. “Would you have gone? If he had asked?”
Outrage painted her voice when she shouted over the rush of the wind in his ear. “Bryan Patrick Murphy! How dare ye even think that.”
He could only helplessly shrug. “But how could you not love it here? The food and drink, the animals that love you, the beauty all around? Why wouldn’t you stay, given the chance?”
She dug her legs into the side of the horse and it responded by leaping even faster into the wind, so quick now that it stole the breath from his lungs and made his eyes sting. “Endless song and wine grows old, as does the politics, Bry. I dinna lie when I said I grew tired, even before I was told to leave. It was likely the reason they chose to exile me.” Their angle changed so rapidly she had to hurriedly hang on to the saddle. “Whoops. Hold on now, ye hear? Neverwhere’s landings are a little abrupt.”
She wasn’t funning with him. The horse fell like a rock towards the hard ground and landed with a thud that shuddered the earth and made Bryan’s jaws clamp together painfully. Neverwhere trotted forwards for a few steps as a thick mist began to roll out of the cave mouth. The cavern yawned menacingly, glowing an eerie green through the mist. But Neverwhere pranced forwards confidently. At least for the first few steps. Then it reared back with the same abruptness as an earthly horse happening upon a snake. They nearly lost their seating as he reared and backed away in a panic. It was only when the mist faded that he stopped prancing and settled.
But Bryan had seen what was in the fog, and it made him afraid. “Doxies, Bridey. I saw their tiny claws in the fog.”
Her voice turned small and soft. “But we have to get inside. How—”
He nodded once and felt the warrior blood begin to boil in his veins. “We’ll go forwards the same way as we planned . . . on foot. I’ve boots on, thick ones for the road. It’ll take time for them to claw their way through. I’ll carry you so they can’t touch you. It’s just a little way and then we’ll be done.”
Bridget shook her head, even as he was slipping out of the saddle. “No, Bry. I canna let ye. One fang, even a single claw and you could die. Ye don’t understand. The legends blurred them over the centuries, made them sound like a lesser threat than other creatures. But they’re far worse than anything else in our world. The stuff of nightmares.”
“But they’re short. Aye? Can they reach above me boots if we move quickly?”
“How can ye move quickly while carrying me? Leave me here with Neverwhere and then ye can get inside.”
As good as it sounded, he knew it wouldn’t satisfy the King. “No. The King had to know the doxies were here. He planned this, as surely as the sun rises. He said true love could be a burden on a man, and this is where I prove to him that there’s no burden too great for love.” He reached out his arms and gathered her to him. “The King said we needed our wits as well as our strength. There were few things more satisfying than staring into her copper flame eyes. He kissed her slow and easy, feeling her lips move against his. His stomach warmed and he felt himself respond to her as he always did, at the least touch. He pulled her tight against him, kissing her until she was breathless and gasping.
When he finally pulled away, her eyes were glazed with need. He winked. “Had to do that once more, just in case it’s our last kiss.”
Finally she smiled. “It won’t be. I have faith in ye, Bryan Murphy. There’s no trial too difficult that ye can’t prevail.”
“Hope you’re right, lass. I truly do.” He lowered himself so she could climb on his back, hands around his neck. “I plan to wear my burden as a backpack, milady, so my hands and feet are free to fight, if needed.”
“Fight!” Her eyes lit up. “You can fight doxies, Bryan. The nails. If we can make them into—”
“Spears!” he completed and began to look around for a long stick. But there were none to be found. It was as though they’d all disappeared, and he didn’t doubt that’s exactly what happened – the same way the horses faded into smoke.
They finally settled on a compromise. He used a rock to pound one nail through the front of his boot so he could kick the doxies out of the way. The risk was it would throw him off balance. The other nail he held in his fist. They couldn’t afford to fall into the mist where the poisoned teeth and claws could cut their skin.
A gong sounded from inside the cave. Had they already lost? Elwich and the Queen were nowhere to be seen. But there was no use stopping now. Bridget gave him a pained, but proud, look. “Remember I won’t be able to warn you of anything. Once I leave the protection of Neverwhere’s magic, I’ll be mute again.”
He nodded. He knew it was all on his shoulders. But that was often the way of love. One had to carry while the other was unable to cope. How many times had she carried him when he was so dead tired from work that all he could do was collapse inside the door? How many times had she bathed him, spoonfed him when he was sick, washed and scrubbed the clothes and their home? This trial was nothing, by comparison. He’d be long dead if she hadn’t found him, convinced him to give up the whiskey that was destroying him, and turned his life, and his heart, around. “You’ll never be mute, my queen. You speak into me heart every day. I can hear you as clear as a bell with every breath you draw.”
She tightened her thighs around his waist, clinging to his back. “Best of luck to ye, fair steed,” Bryan whispered on the way past. The horse responded by pounding a hoof once against the stone.
“I hope you’re ready, my queen. ’Tis time you had a crown befitting your beauty.” With a primal yell, he bounded into the mist, keeping his back bent for balance and using his left boot like a dagger for anything that lay ahead.
The hands attacked him almost instantly, pulling and tugging at him so strongly that it slowed him from a run to a walk that was like wading through ankle-deep mud. But the satisfying tiny screams and poofs of blue dust said the nail was doing its work, and occasionally he would swipe down with the other bit of iron to get a claw off the top of his boot. Their tiny faces were long and lean, the faces of predators who knew they would win in the end. The claws were sharp, and worried at the leather so quickly that he feared he wouldn’t reach the safety of the cave – if the cave were any safer.
But the fog had hidden more than the tiny creatures. It hid the sharp incline. He hit the edge of the ramp like a bull against a tree and went down, barely catching himself before Bridget tumbled off his back. But the damage was done. When he rose from his knees, there were bloody scratches through his pants, and tiny bite marks deep in his wrist and hand. He could feel the poison hitting his system even as Bridget urged him soundlessly forwards. His feet were going numb and he knew the King must be laughing at the foolish Human, a mere mortal who dared to oppose them.
“Sorry, lass,” he choked out as he stumbled again. “But I swore to protect you, and I’ll keep that vow.” He swung to face her. “Know that I love ye, lass. Know that I wouldn’t give in until ye were safe.”
As she screamed soundlessly, he used his last ounce of strength to pick her up and throw her through the mouth of the cave. She struck the wall hard enough that, as he fell into the mist and felt the painful claws and teeth rip through his flesh, a single crystal fell from the roof of the cavern to land on her beautiful red hair. It lit up like a star and made him smile, and he suddenly didn’t care that he would die here. So beautiful. Lord, how I love that girl.
He couldn’t quite process it when she stood on her own feet and raced towards him, yelling like a banshee and slapping dox
ies with the strength of a dozen warrior fae. “Oh, no, Bryan Murphy. Dinna ye think you can slip away from me that easy.” She grabbed under his arms and pulled backwards. He tried to help as much as he could, but everything was going numb and cold.
It took long minutes, but she finally managed to pull him back inside the mouth of the cave. She collapsed, breathing hard and sobbing, while he rested his face on her soft legs. He couldn’t quite get his lips to work, so he spoke into her mind. Don’t cry, Bridey. Never cry for me. I did what I did by choice. I did it to save you, not me.
She touched his hair, petted him and rocked. Tears dropped from her face to land on his cheek. After a moment, her face went cold and her eyes flashed and she called out a challenge that echoed through the cave. “Show yourself, false King! Mane shee who claims to be fair and worthy of your throne. Come face a halfling and defend yourself in battle! Unless you’re a coward as well!”
A long moment passed and then a bolt of lightning broke the stillness. “You dare call me a coward ?!” The King’s roar of anger was like lava on Bryan’s skin, but his fierce Bridey didn’t flinch a bit.
Her voice was calm, but cold. “I do.”
“I could strike you dead with a wave of one finger.” Thunder rolled around the words, so loud the very air was painful against his eardrums.
Her brogue, which she tried to keep under control in the outside world, flared to full life. “Aye? And then ye’d best do it, afore the rest see thee for the coward ye are.” He couldn’t even move his head, and could only see her movements as flitting shadows in the growing darkness. “Ye swore on oath that the winner would go free. I dinna see your champion and your lady here afore us. Or is it his lady? Is that what this has been about, milord? To make the lady queen suffer the humiliation of being treated as a lowly human . . . to teach her a lesson?” Her words were sharp enough to cut stone and if Bryan could have only smiled, he surely would have. “I call thee coward for involving a mortal trying merely to protect one of the blood. Thrice I name thee coward, and prove otherwise soon, or suffer the wrath of the brethren who would take away thy crown for being unfit to wear it.”
Was that thunder again, or . . . no, could it be laughter?
“Ah, Bridget Greenleaf, you’re much as your mother was, daughter of mine.”
Daughter? His beautiful Bridey was daughter of the King of the fae?
“You’re right, this was a lesson to the Queen, and to an upstart warrior who would hope to usurp my throne by bedding her. When it didn’t work, he tried to take ye to blackmail me.”
Now Bridget softened her voice. “Aye. But he didn’t count on the strength of will and wit of my Bry, father.”
“I know now why you’ve remained in the mortal world, Bridget. You’ve a warrior true, and you’ve earned thy prize. Take Human home and nurse him well. It will be many days before the doxie poison leaves his system and I can offer only the crown star crystal to aid in thy fight and protect thy home. The burden now shifts from him to thee. Do ye accept this trial, daughter of mine, without even knowing the nature of it?”
Sound began to fade in Bryan’s ears, even as he felt himself being loaded again on the broad back of the loyal steed that would carry them home. To their home, in an emerald grove where he could rest and recover.
But he did hear one last thing before the world slipped into darkness and it warmed his heart. “I accept, Highness. The nature of the trial matters not. There is no burden so great that I cannot bear it for love.”
Nia and the Beast of Killarney Wood
Cindy Miles
County Kerry, Ireland – 1817
Nia of Clare cracked open first one eye, then the other, and peered over the edge of the blanket she had clutched to her chin. The damp cold stung her cheeks, but she cared not.
Tonight was the night.
Only the smouldering embers from the camp’s fire gave off any light to speak of; the moon’s absence would certainly be a hindrance. It would slow her down, aye, but ’twould no’ stop her. As she vaguely made out the silhouette of one of her six guardsmen, her eyes narrowed, and anger simmered beneath her skin. Her da may think her unfit for a husband, but to her idea, she need no’ have one at all. From what she’d learned of husbands, they were bothersome, bossy twits she wanted no part of anyway. Yet here she was packed up and guarded like some prized swine, being sent to the cloisters to live the rest of her days at a secluded abbey filled with grumpy old women.
Nia had other notions.
With a slow gaze she took in what little she could see of the camp. She knew where each of the guardsmen stood – rather, slumped. The buffoons took turns dozing, and it would only take a few moments for her to slither off into the darkness.
She’d stuffed her blanket with all her spare clothes. Rather lumpy, but still – from their drunken eyes, they’d ne’er notice till dawn. Besides, in the shadows of darkness it did sort of look like her slumbering body.
One could only hope.
Now!
Ever so slowly, Nia inched backwards on her belly, head down, cheek to the soil and matted leaves. The heady, earthy smell urged her on; it was freedom in her eyes. She made not a single sound as she eased away from her blankets, and she kept her gaze trained on the sentry about her. No one noticed!
At the edge of the campfire’s ring of light, she slithered back just enough, until finally, shadows engulfed her. Holding her breath, she rose, patted the pouch at her waist containing her coin, pulled the cowl of her cloak down, and moved into the night.
Minutes later, the bark of the guardsmen’s hound shot through the air.
Without another thought, Nia fled. Running blindly into the wood, her heart thumped as the guards shouted, booted feet pounded behind her, dogs howled with excitement, and her moment of freedom narrowed. Through the foliage she ran as fast as her legs could pump. Thorny vines slapped her face and ripped her flesh, but she didn’t care. What harm could they do? With the air in her lungs burning, she swiped at branches, jumped over rocks and a fallen tree, until finally, the shouts behind her grew softer. Distant.
Still, she ran. The guardsmen wouldna follow her – that much she knew. Not into this forest. For deep within Killarney Wood lived a beast of legend. One with a savage thirst for human blood. One without mercy.
One she didna give a frog’s fat figgy arse about!
Nia no more believed in such gory fairy tales than she did in fancy ones where knights on white steeds rescued their maiden fair. Neither existed. Both were ridiculous.
What did exist, though, ’twas her pending capture, so with that thought in mind she continued to run blindly through the shadowy wood. The night air chilled straight through her woollen cloak to her bones, but she didna care a whit—
Suddenly, Nia stopped dead in her tracks. Although she could barely see past her own nose, white puffs of warm air billowed out before her with every breath. Her ears tuned in to the verra noise that stopped her.
Footsteps. Moving through the brush. Faster. Heavy. Closer.
Her heart slamming into her ribs, Nia took off, the frosty air biting her cheeks. She didna look back to see which o’ the guards neared – she merely ran. The muscles in her thighs burned as she made her way deeper into the wood and, just when she thought her predator had given up, a weight of steel crushed her to the ground, the air in her lungs whooshing out in one big breath. A large hand slipped over her mouth and, even though the breath had been knocked clean out o’ her, she shivered at the strange, deep voice whispering in her ear.
“Dunna move.”
Nia didna. She couldna breathe, much less move.
Then, at once, the ground beneath her belly shifted, and an odd cracking sound split the air. Before the next second, the earth gave way, the heavy body atop her swore in a language unfamiliar to her ears, and then they were both falling, tumbling downwards in a passage too small for their bodies. Sharp roots snagged Nia’s cloak, rocks, pebbles and dirt scattered, until she fell no more. Wit
h a heavy thud, she landed, the steely body still wrapped about her. Pain shot to her shoulder as she heard a small pop. What air was left in her lungs was crushed out and little lights flickered behind the lids of her eyes like fireflies.
Then everything went pitch black.
When Nia cracked open her eyes, everything remained pitch black. Where was she? She couldna see a thing. The pungent smell of earth and peat permeated the cave. And the moment she pushed up on her elbow, she cringed and bit back a yelp as pain shot to her shoulder. No doubt she’d dislodged it again. Amidst the hurt, she managed to sit upright. Whoever had fallen with her may still be about. She drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Hello?” A wave of nausea washed over her. She needed to fix her shoulder. ’Twould be difficult to do alone, but she’d managed before. “Is someone there?”
“Who are you?”
Nia jumped as the verra same deep voice from before now sounded at her ear. It was a harsh, unfriendly tone – more like a wild animal growling – and she shuddered. The movement jostled her shoulder, and she winced from the jolt, her heart pounding. She held her arm close to her body, stilling the shoulder. “I am . . . Nia Donovan . . . of Clare.”
Silence. Then, “What is wrong with you?”
At first, that annoying fear which niggled at times gripped her. Had the stranger seen her horrid face? How could he have? The wood had been nearly as dark as the place they now were in, and she’d had her cloak pulled tightly about her. Once again, she noticed his voice – cold, angry, threatening and barely under control. Nia couldna decipher why, and it somewhat angered her, as well. “You fell on me, sir,” she said. “And my shoulder is dislodged.” Scooting her booted feet beneath her bottom, she tried to rise without the use of her arms. Before she could manage it, the stranger’s hands were there, intimately on her hips, steadying her until she was standing. Strong, heavy hands remained against her, and Nia was shocked at how her skin flamed beneath her cloak and linens where he touched.