Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae

by India Drummond

  “He’s the one who lied to the queen, not me. I made a mistake, but he’s the traitor.”

  “What?” Eilidh snapped.

  “He revealed the truth in his mind when we fought. Queen Cadhla didn’t die. She’s still alive. He held her prisoner for two moons.”

  “Impossible,” Eilidh said, but Munro sensed her momentary uncertainty.

  “Test him,” Flùranach said mockingly. “If you’re so certain, probe his mind.”

  Munro was worried that if they got into this strange twist of an argument, they’d lose their chance to help Rory. He lowered his voice and spoke to Flùranach. “We have to go to the Halls of Mist. We’ll talk about this again when we return, all right?”

  “You believe me?” Flùranach said, her eyes full of hope. She’d shifted from angry young woman to frightened child again. “He said you wouldn’t.”

  “You did the right thing by telling us,” Munro said, careful with his words. “We’ll definitely look into it when we return.”

  Chapter 22

  The Caledonian fae only used carts for transporting goods, preferring their own two feet over being carried. But at dusk, Eilidh’s servants arranged for Rory to be taken to the portal in as much comfort as possible. While she waited for the other druids to arrive to accompany them, Eilidh pondered Munro’s conversation with Flùranach. As far as the fanciful stories about Oron keeping Cadhla alive, Eilidh wanted to dismiss them, but her thoughts haunted her. The girl had always been trouble. Eilidh trusted Oron with her life. What motive would he have for deceiving her? On the other hand, what if the girl spoke the truth?

  The tragedy of the entire situation with Flùranach plagued Eilidh. The girl had so much promise and seemed willing to help Rory, but Eilidh wouldn’t let Flùranach’s crimes go unpunished. As queen, she had to govern from a position of strength. Yes, they needed Flùranach’s abilities, but Eilidh wouldn’t risk being viewed as weak.

  Not only that, but the faeries who’d opposed Eilidh’s reign, the ones afraid of those gifted with the Path of Stars, would be appalled at the use of astral powers to overpower and dominate. The attack went to the heart of their fears of the azuri, and specifically of her. When they discovered the victim of the crime had been draoidh? If Eilidh didn’t react swiftly, she might find the tide turning against her.

  She was so lost in thought, she didn’t notice Munro’s approach. “What’s troubling you, my love?” he said, careful to keep his voice low. The others had arrived as the sky darkened and were helping get Rory settled.

  Eilidh shook her head. She wasn’t ready to share her fears with him, partly because he still held affection and loyalty to the girl. Despite what she’d done, Quinton wanted to save her. “You handled the situation well,” Eilidh said, hoping to deflect his ever-curious nature. “I hadn’t thought it possible to break a bond, and what’s even more surprising is that she agreed.”

  “Are you worried that we’ll discover our bond could be broken?” His deep blue eyes swirled with the new depths of his magic. Eilidh found herself unable to look away.

  Griogair saved her from having to answer. He trotted up and said, “We’re ready to depart at your command.” The expression on his face showed he hadn’t missed the intensity of the exchange between Eilidh and Munro.

  Everyone in the courtyard stared at her and Munro. Apparently her mate wasn’t the only one who noticed. How long would they be able to carry on this pretence? It was one thing to be discrete in public, but another to try to fool those they interacted with every day.

  “Thank you,” she said to her mate and ignored the chagrin on his face. She didn’t care if expressing her gratitude made her appear common.

  A small honour guard accompanied them, as was traditional on royal visits to the Halls of Mist. She signalled to their leader to depart. They used earth and air flows to propel the vehicle forward, and the others ran behind. Two other faeries gifted with the Path of Stars loped beside Rory’s cart, keeping him almost completely sedated. Although Flùranach had sworn she wanted him taken, some measure of inner conflict must have remained. Come nightfall, Rory had proved reluctant, despite the girl’s claims of desire to help.

  They travelled to the portal without incident, allowing Eilidh time to contemplate. She realised how infrequently she had time alone with her thoughts. Usually she had a busy night, bustling from meetings with the joint conclave to hear about matters of state to attending official events, presiding over hearings, and appearing at public functions. Her days were spent with Munro, except in the case of this most recent morning, which she’d spent with Griogair. Their relationship was newly budding, but she enjoyed that their friendship had begun to grow into something deeper. Munro hadn’t been jealous, even going so far as to encourage her to follow what happiness she could find. Somewhere inside, she harboured a niggling worry these relationships would all fall apart, causing her to lose them both.

  Munro turned and winked at her from his position ahead. He looked magnificent with his shimmering golden skin and hair. Even the tips of his ears had grown more pointed, enough so she noticed the beginning of a curl. She had to school the smile threatening to cross her lips. Winking at a queen. What was he thinking?

  They arrived at the glowing sphere that would transport them to the Halls of Mist, and Eilidh and half her honour guard stepped through first, followed by Griogair, then Munro with the other druids, and finally Rory and the two azuri fae. The remaining Watchers would use their earth powers to propel the cart through the sphere.

  The courtyard around the sphere was less populated than usual. The typical stir provoked by a royal arrival hadn’t materialised because their visit had gone unannounced. Griogair wanted Eilidh to proceed to the Caledonian Hall, but she insisted on waiting for Rory. It caused her mate some measure of frustration. He was, she knew, trying to help her maintain the image a queen should. But she reminded him of the importance of the draoidh. She could ill afford any accusation that she didn’t treat them with the respect they deserved.

  In truth, she was worried about Rory. The instant the cart rushed through the blue glow, her fears were proven well-founded. The other druids, having never been to the Halls before, reacted to their arrival much as she expected. They appeared shaken and overwhelmed by the intensity of the magical air in this realm but adapted quickly.

  Rory, on the other hand, began to scream. Dozens of faces from all over the kingdoms turned to stare. The druid’s back arched where he lay in the cart. His agonising primal yell thrust Eilidh into action. She rushed to the cart and shouted at the two azuri who had accompanied them. “What happened?” Delving into Rory’s mind, she winced. The spiritual injury looked as though he’d been ripped in two.

  “We don’t know, Your Majesty,” a young male faerie replied. “He was subdued and responding to our efforts as we would expect any human to.”

  Eilidh grumbled at his tone. “The druid isn’t just any human,” she said. Using her own powers, she quieted his mind enough that he stopped shouting. Still, he was in unmistakable agony.

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” the faerie replied.

  She glanced toward Munro and Griogair. “I can’t help him. We have to send him back. He’s in too much pain.”

  “I’ll take him,” Munro said.

  “No,” Eilidh replied, command ringing in her tone. “We need your knowledge of the runes, and we still must make formal introductions between the keepers and the others. Prince Griogair, accompany the druid to Canton Dreich along with my honour guard.” At least by sending her mate and her honour guard, she signalled her respect to the draoidh. Thinking of how her actions would be analysed after the fact pained her, but she would be foolish to imagine her every move wouldn’t be observed and later judged.

  For once, her mate approved of her decision. “As you wish,” he replied with a respectful bow of his head. To the guardsmen he said, “We return through the portal. Quickly.”

  They moved at once, and the silence t
hat followed came as a relief. Rory’s mind was in a mire, and she prayed to the Mother and Father they would find a way to help.

  ∞

  Munro watched the other druids’ faces as Aaron, Phillip, and Douglas took in what had happened to Rory. They’d only seen him subdued, but when he screamed, none of them could doubt the horror of what Flùranach had done. They responded to Munro’s look with silent nods. They’d told him they were determined to take the risk to discover the potential of their power. They felt vulnerable to the fae. Any one of them had the power to squash the druids, and a few had the ability to invade their minds. Could anyone besides Flùranach impose slavery on the two unbonded druids? None of them wanted to find out. They needed to find their power quickly.

  Eilidh led them to the Halls’ library. Her grim determination mirrored their own. Munro had told them about his experience there, so at least they knew what to expect. Aaron seemed wary, Phillip kept quiet as they descended to the main hall, but Douglas appeared excited. Perhaps he had the least to fear. Because he was already joined to Tràth, he didn’t have to worry someone would take his bond.

  Much to Munro’s surprise, all of the keepers stood in the main hall of the library. They bowed when the group arrived, but not to Eilidh. They acknowledged the druids one by one before greeting the queen.

  “Your Majesty,” Oszlár said. “Welcome.”

  “Keeper,” she replied, but Munro sensed the effort required to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Munro knew she too held the druids in high esteem, but despite her struggle to hide her insecurity, every slight to her station worried her. She feared any lapse might indicate a deep disdain for her holding the throne.

  “Lord Druid Quinton Munro, we are honoured by your return.”

  “My friends want to visit the Source Stone, if that’s okay, and I need to revisit one of the rune groupings, to listen to a particular story again. If Ríona is available, I’d like her to show it to me.”

  A worried frown crossed the elderly keeper’s face. “Is Ríona not with you?”

  “With me?” Munro said, confused.

  The keeper chuckled. “I’m not so old I did not notice how taken she was with you. I inquired, and she confided her intention to declare her desires at the earliest opportunity.” He wrinkled his brow. “The last time I saw her was two nights ago, when you touched the Stone. I assumed she had done as she intended and you were enjoying one another’s companionship.”

  Munro thought back, remembering the way she’d laid down beside him after his interaction with the Stone. She had gone by the time he woke, and he hadn’t seen her since. He felt a tickle in his mind as Eilidh wondered at the keeper’s words. The hint of jealousy amused him, considering the nature of their own relationship. “I’m sorry,” Munro said. “I haven’t heard from her. Queen Eilidh asked me to journey to the human realm, and I left without saying farewell to Ríona.”

  “Well,” Oszlár said, concern etched on his ancient face. “It is unlike her to have disappeared, but a broken heart can cause even the fae to behave unpredictably at times. Undoubtedly she underestimated your connection to your bonded faerie.” His eyes flicked to Eilidh, then back to Munro. “I will show you the grouping myself, if you wish.”

  “Thank you,” Munro said, surprised the keeper rightly suspected he’d rejected Ríona’s advances only because of his attachment to Eilidh.

  “I suggest we visit the runes first. If your companions react as strongly as you did to the essence of the Stone, you may wish to accompany them back to the Caledonian Hall.”

  “Sure,” Munro said, glancing at the others. “If that’s okay with you?”

  Eilidh inclined her head in agreement and the others shrugged, saying they would go along with whatever, not really knowing what to expect.

  The elder led them down the library corridors, his curved back and slow walk making the journey take even longer than when Ríona had accompanied Munro the first time. Back then, he hadn’t realised he had the power to read the runes. His skin tingled with anticipation as they approached.

  Finally they reached the first rune grouping Ríona and he had examined together, the tale in which humans had battled against the fae and the Andenan queen had lost her life.

  He approached the stone and ran his hands over the surface, finding the place where Ríona had begun. Faeries tended to read from the centre outward, rather than starting at the top and moving from one side to the other. Now he understood that where he started didn’t matter much. Any of the runes would eventually lead him to the beginning, and details would flow until he found the end.

  Munro said the words aloud as he listened to the creator’s story. He quickly realised Ríona had translated it well, but a natural cultural bias made her overlook passages that tripped him up. The battle, he read, was fought with cold steel. When he went over the rune for cold, he translated it as ice steel, not cold steel. Why would humans have elemental swords?

  “Oszlár,” Munro said, “What do you make of this?” Munro indicated the passage and related his concerns.

  The keeper approached and touched the runes. His fingers travelled over the stone’s surface, moving away from that passage to others nearby, then back again. “The swords were not truly elemental,” Oszlár concluded. “However…” he tapped the stone, his wrinkles furrowing even deeper as he frowned. “There is an indication of magic.”

  “An enchantment?” Douglas asked.

  Oszlár raised an eyebrow. “Yes, that is a good description. The sword was undoubtedly iron but, according to this, had properties of elemental ice.”

  “How does this help Rory?” Aaron asked.

  “It doesn’t,” Munro said. “I’m still searching for the right part.” He continued listening to the tale but filed away that interesting bit of knowledge. He couldn’t place the exact human era from the details given, but iron weapons meant the runes were no more than roughly three thousand years. That sounded like forever, but in terms of fae history, when a faerie’s lifetime might extend over a thousand years, three millennium wasn’t long. Did any of these enchanted weapons still exist? He wanted to get his hands on one, but carried on reading, trying to focus on Rory.

  He went through the tale until he reached the point of the queen’s death.

  The queen of Andena, surrounded by the corpses of her brothers (companions, comrades), wept as the humans approached. They were led by the one who had been her own slave.

  Munro stopped. Slave. Bondsman. The queen had been fighting against a human contingent led by her own druid. When Ríona read the tale, she’d made it clear the humans had once been enslaved by the fae and later escaped, but she hadn’t emphasised the relationship. Why had Ríona brought him to this rune grouping first? At the time, he hadn’t questioned her choice, being so mesmerised by the whole concept of runes.

  She released the essence binding her cuts (slices), and she bled rivers. Her features (face, expression) paled as the magic seeped through open wounds. She was dying.

  The cry, “Stop!” (Staunch! Desist!) came from the lips of the human leader. “Your vanity will kill us both. We seek not your death (end) but merely our freedom (release).”

  The white (pale) queen said, “Your devotion is surely ended (finished, complete).” The human cried out, but the royal died quietly, her defeat accomplished. Upon her departure, the tradition of human bondage broke, and the fae of Andena vowed to never again ally (match, consort) with treacherous human creatures.

  Munro looked at Eilidh. This Andenan queen had to be an azuri if she had a bonded druid. Likely a blood faerie if she used magic to bind her own wounds. What happened to make him go to war with her to secure his freedom?

  “Your devotion…” Eilidh whispered, stepping forward and placing a hand on Munro’s shoulder. The words that created their bond were ancient ones. Dem’ontar-che. Love or devotion, in the ancient fae language, but more than love: faith and loyalty to the point of servitude. Their bond had been a mutual one, but
Flùranach proved not every bond had to be made that way. If Eilidh had not completed the bond by repeating the words herself, would Munro be enslaved to her the way Rory was to Flùranach?

  “There are two ways to save Rory,” Munro said. “The bond can be repaired or broken.”

  “You know the exact words she needs to say?” Aaron asked.

  “Yes,” Munro said. “And I suspect Flùranach does too.” Just as the binding words had come to him by instinct, so did the ancient fae phrase that would grant release, once he accepted they must exist. They teased at him. He glanced at Eilidh. He knew she felt them too. And he understood Flùranach had to repeat the ancient words, thus binding herself to the same loyalty, devotion, and servitude to Rory, or she had to release him, as the Andenan queen had done on the day of her death. “The question is,” Munro said, “do we give her the choice of which way to go?”

  “We may have to,” Eilidh said quietly. “Even an elder would find it difficult to force an astral faerie of her power to put the necessary intent into the words against her will. More importantly, I cannot allow the conclave to use such brutal force on the girl, even if such a method exists.”

  “If she doesn’t mean the words, they won’t work,” Munro said. Although he had no desire to test the magic, he believed if he said the words of release, the bond wouldn’t break unless he put his heart into them.

  “I look forward,” Oszlár said, “to having the draoidh among us again. You will bring new understanding to our scholars. I hope you will consider making your home in the Halls of Mist, studying with us and perhaps someday taking on the mantle of keeper.”

  Munro nodded. “We have a lot to think about, but I’m certain I’ll spend a lot of time here in the future.” The many vaults intrigued him, and he wanted to know more about the ancient druids who once lived like gods but somehow descended into slaves, then outcasts.

  Oszlár inclined his head. “Shall we introduce your brethren to the Source Stone now?”