Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae

by India Drummond

  Munro agreed. When they returned to the central hall, Oszlár politely advised that Eilidh should stay behind. Although he couched his words as a suggestion, he made it clear the keepers allowed no one but themselves to be in direct contact with the Source Stone. Munro was curious why, but he didn’t get the opportunity to ask because Eilidh agreed to the keeper’s request.

  The old faerie led the druids to the lower vault where the Source Stone rested. As Munro glanced around the room, he saw the rune-covered walls with new eyes. They cried out with meaning, as though the ghosts of a thousand draoidh stood with him. The Stone itself wasn’t the only enchantment present, and he wondered if the walls protected the artefact, amplified its effects, or subdued them. Oszlár smiled at him. “You wear a lifetime of questions on your face.”

  Munro nodded. “Reading that story about the old Andenan queen reminded me that when Ríona first showed me the rune for druid, I said you used the wrong mark. But did you? My predecessors have been both revered and enslaved. I suppose I was the one who was wrong.”

  “Not entirely,” Oszlár said. He didn’t take the time to expand on his thoughts. Instead, he and the other keepers raised the Source Stone with their rhythmic chanting and revealed the artefact to the druids, just as they did for Munro days before.

  Because the other three hadn’t ever created runes, Munro wasn’t sure if they would have a similar experience with the Stone. He felt like he drifted in a world where he didn’t know the rules. The few rules he had been taught had been based on untruths. Who could he trust? He looked at the runes on the walls. Them. He could trust them. The ones that came before. When a rune spoke the truth, every cell in Munro’s body vibrated in sync with it. He understood now why no runes were myths or tales, and why the Killbourne Wall was such an anomaly. Of course, that story wasn’t a lie, but the truth had been so difficult for the fae to accept that they’d created a fiction to help them cope.

  Phillip approached the stone first, and a blue, glowing energy enveloped him. The others joined him, kneeling around the stone with their hands on its cool surface. A heady tension filled the room. The energy crackled, almost sexual in its intensity. Munro watched them, taking an involuntary step closer. The Stone drew him. The keepers had a similar reaction. Their faces were enraptured as the druids coursed with primal power, groaning as the flows wracked their bodies.

  Munro felt the surge down to his bones and watched, entranced as the magic took hold of his three friends. They changed before his eyes, and he realised he was witnessing their evolution. What would happen if they continued to visit this place, if they gathered enough druids to create a new Source Stone, new gates, new life? The limitless possibilities were both exciting and overwhelming.

  Lost in his thoughts, Munro shook his head, startled to realise the others were being helped away. He had wondered if he would lose consciousness like he did the first time he encountered the Stone, but he simply felt a driving hunger to create, or at least to hold a stone in his hand, to feel its texture and depth, the time and life within.

  The keepers helped the druids out the door and back to the main area of the library, where capable hands were prepared to escort them to the Caledonian Hall to rest. Just as Munro started to leave, Oszlár pulled him aside. “There are changes ahead for all of us,” he said cautiously. “The fae need you. Many will fear the return of the draoidh, but you are our best hope to keep our people from dying out.”

  “Dying?” Munro said. “I don’t understand.”

  “We need our connection to the human realm. Only there can we offer the sacrifices to the Mother of the Earth.”

  Munro nodded. He knew fae couples who wished to conceive travelled to the realm where humans lived to ask their goddess for the blessing of fertility. He’d understood the custom was more than a meaningless tradition but had never bothered to learn more.

  “The human realm encroaches. Entire kingdoms have disappeared as the gates crumble, and modern influence destroys the borderlands. Only you have the power to repair what has been broken. Without the draoidh, we are on a long, slow death march to oblivion.”

  Munro listened, uncertain how to process the warning or what he was expected to do. Obviously the keepers had showed him and the others the Source Stone for a reason. They knew a lot more than they said but seemed to be in no rush to fill him in. It was just as well, perhaps. He wasn’t sure how much more he could handle. He feared he was losing his grip on his humanity one small moment at a time.

  Oszlár’s wrinkled face cracked into a knowing smile. “Don’t worry. The future will take care of itself. You’re here now. That’s what matters. Go. Take care of your friends. They need rest, as you well know.”

  Munro turned to find the others had been helped away, but Eilidh still waited for him. He wanted to take her hand but held himself back. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Are you well? Do you need assistance?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “I’m fine.”

  She looked thoughtful as they left, walking toward the long, winding staircase together. “Was your first experience with the Stone as intense as the others’?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I had no idea. I should have been here.”

  When they were finally alone in the stairwell, he squeezed her hand. “You were needed elsewhere.”

  She nodded and only let go of his fingers when they ascended into the public square around the portal sphere. They walked together over the long bridge to the Caledonian Hall. For the first time, the strange mists that curled below and reached into infinite depths did not bother him. “We will not be able to keep the truth secret for long,” she said.

  He glanced at her as they entered the Hall. Servants scurried and bowed, performing a dance-like routine to tend their queen.

  When she caught his expression, she added, “About the druids’ power.”

  “Ah,” he said. He had wondered for a peculiar moment if she meant their relationship, but he had to shake off his fleeting disappointment. “Aye, the physical changes might be written off to exposure to the Otherworld air, but with so many keepers and all the others who witnessed what happened today, no doubt the word is already spreading.”

  The morning approached, and they ascended the stairs to go to their rooms. Munro supposed he still had use of the same suite he’d occupied a few days before. He and Eilidh didn’t visit the Halls enough for him to have established anything permanent, but he’d left a few things behind.

  The head steward for the Hall approached and bowed before the queen. “Your Majesty, a message has arrived from the prince-consort. With your blessing, he will be staying at Canton Dreich until your return, unless you require his presence.”

  Eilidh nodded. “Return a message that my mate has my blessing to continue as he sees fit.” She hesitated before adding, “Write that I look forward to seeing him upon my return.” She blushed slightly, but Munro pretended not to notice.

  The steward bowed with a subtle smile. “As you command.”

  “Where have the druids been taken?” she asked.

  “The East Wing, Your Majesty,” he said.

  He moved forward as though he planned to escort them, but Eilidh waved him off. “I know where it is,” she said.

  “Of course, Your Majesty. The druid lords are together in the fifth suite. The keepers’ servants suggested keeping them together would help the healers appropriately monitor and tend to their needs.” He seemed almost apologetic at having put the druid lords in such conditions, but those suites could comfortably accommodate three. The largest in that part of the Caledonian Hall complex could probably hold ten.

  As they walked away, Munro wondered if, after they’d seen the druids, he could talk Eilidh into spending the day with him. He knew from his own experience his friends would likely want to sleep for hours, and with Griogair in Caledonia, he might as well take the opportunity to be alone with her. He wanted to talk, but he also wanted to hold her and rea
ssure himself they weren’t drifting apart. The closeness of their bond told him she was as tied to him as ever, yet the story of the dead Andenan queen shook them both. He’d never realised how much comfort he’d taken in the idea that their bond couldn’t be broken.

  When they arrived at the East Wing, he glanced down the corridor. Two Watchers stood outside his chamber door. “That’s odd,” he said. “Why would they be guarding my room?”

  Eilidh followed his line of sight. “I don’t know,” she said. “Might Ríona be waiting for you?” Lowering her voice she said, “If the girl is as enthralled with you as Oszlár says…”

  “I did nothing to encourage her,” Munro said, still pondering the guards. “I want to check this out.” He strode down the hall. Rather than going into the druids’ room, Eilidh followed him.

  “Are you certain?” she asked playfully as they walked. “I’ve not found you too adept at picking up the signals of a woman’s attraction. Perhaps you are equally unaware of your own charms.” I’ve found that thing you do with your tongue quite charming indeed, she sent to his mind.

  Munro laughed and had to resist the urge to stop and kiss her. For a brief moment, he believed everything was going to be all right.

  They slowed as they approached the door, and the two Watchers saluted. “Why are you guarding my rooms?” he asked.

  They stared at him, obviously confused. “You told us to, Lord Druid.”

  He glanced at Eilidh, then turned back to them. “When?”

  “Yestereve.”

  Munro shook his head. “Two days ago, I left when Her Majesty requested I travel to the human realm.”

  One of the Watchers frowned, his black eyebrows crinkling together. “But you returned, my lord.”

  “I can attest he hasn’t,” Eilidh said. “Our bond nearly closes completely when we are separated by the Halls’ portal. He has, as he claimed, been either in the human realm or with me.”

  “Was this person masquerading as me alone?” Munro asked.

  The Watchers shook their heads. “No, my lord. You were…I mean he was accompanied by two scholars, Ríona and Dwel of Andena.”

  “And did the three depart together?”

  “No, my lord. The two males departed together but told us the scholar Ríona was resting and required our protection. We didn’t question his word.” He stared at Munro. “I would have sworn on my life it was you.”

  Eilidh signalled for them to step away from the door. “Draw arms,” she said quietly.

  The two fae Watchers immediately conjured elemental swords: one of sharp black stone and the other red, its surface flowing like molten lava.

  With a whisper, Eilidh made a glowing shield that surrounded the four of them. She nodded to one of the Watchers to open the door, and a curved sword appeared in her hand. It looked like iron, but it flowed with alternating streaks of ice and fire. As a Watcher, she’d been trained to use weapons, but was only able to conjure an elemental sword after the bonding.

  They stepped inside the main room and immediately an invisible barrier broke, releasing a whoosh of foul-smelling air. “Check the side rooms,” Munro said to the two Watchers. Eilidh whispered incantations, and they moved swiftly but with caution.

  Within seconds one of them called, “In here,” from the direction of Munro’s bed chamber.

  He stepped through but was unprepared for what he found. His bile rose as he took in the sight of Ríona’s body. She had been dead at least a day, and her death had not been a pleasant one. The smell of vomit and blood assaulted his senses. “She’s been tortured,” he said quietly.

  Eilidh hid her disgust and sorrow well. “Why?” she asked. “Why would anyone do this to your translator? You hardly knew her.”

  Munro wouldn’t let himself look away. He felt responsible. “For the same reason someone killed your prisoner while wearing my face. For the same reason someone killed a hundred people at Nir Doute. Eilidh, this isn’t just about destabilising your throne. This is personal.”

  She nodded. “Untie her,” she said to the Watchers. “And cover her, then call for a priest to prepare her body for return to her people.”

  “No,” Munro said. “Not yet.” He pressed his eyes closed and breathed in, aware of the other three watching him closely. Doing his best to keep calm, he went to Ríona’s body and examined the ropes binding her to his bed. The knots were strong but didn’t appear expertly done or uniform. She was nude, and had small burns covering her in long strips. “This looks like a lash of some kind, but burning. Elemental?”

  Eilidh stepped closer. “Perhaps, but weak.”

  “Like the empty rune burned on the wall,” he said thoughtfully. “But no doubt this hurt. She must have been in agony.” He glanced at the door. “I wonder why no one heard her.” He continued to examine the body, trying desperately to forget it was someone he knew, someone he’d laughed with, someone who’d lay beside him when he was weak and thought he was dying. He gestured to the cuts. “None of these are deep enough to have caused her death. There’s hardly any blood, besides a trickle here and there.” He turned her gently but found no large wounds on her back.

  “Then why did she die?” one of the Watchers asked.

  Munro said, “I’m no doctor, so I can only guess. See her eyes? The blood spots? They suggest she was suffocated. No bruising or marks on her neck though, so not strangled.” He glanced up. “What was that when we walked in? Was this room shielded?”

  Eilidh nodded. “Completely stilled by a bubble around the room. Strong enough to block the sound while they did this to her and to keep the smell from spreading after they were gone.”

  “Air flows could easily smother her. We’re looking for someone with strong air talents and weak fire then?”

  “One must be an azuri to create an illusion to lead Ríona here and fool two experienced Watchers. The other must have been gifted in the Ways of Earth to have air talents strong enough to keep this room sealed for an entire day.”

  Munro realised something. “Wouldn’t the seal have broken if they went through the portal? They must still be here.”

  “At least one of them, yes,” Eilidh said, then turned to the Watcher. “Seal the Caledonian Hall. No one goes in or out. No one. Not even someone who looks like me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  She stared hard at both of them. “The Hall is sealed until I mind-speak my command to all and show you my elemental sword.”

  Smart, Munro thought. Only the strongest azuri fae could mind-speak. As far as he knew, she was the only one in Caledonia. But just in case someone had mastered the ability secretly, only a faerie gifted in three of four earth spheres could produce a sword like hers. That would require an azuri with a bonded druid, because even the strongest earth faerie typically had gifts in one sphere, with only minor abilities in one or two others.

  They saluted in unison, and she dismissed them. To Munro she said, “Come. Let us get out of this room. I’ll seal it against intrusion until I can order Ríona safely sent home.” Then she added, “I’m very sorry about your friend.”

  Munro nodded, the grim weight of her death on his shoulders. “So am I.”

  Chapter 23

  The Watchers searched the Caledonian Hall from the kitchens and service hall to Eilidh’s quarters. They were in danger of falling prey to illusions, so Eilidh connected with the astral plane to search for the ripples of someone casting the stars. The strain of the intense focus required left Eilidh vulnerable. Munro stayed with her in one of the Hall’s large reception rooms, talking as he paced the long aisle between the door and her large damask seat.

  She barely heard what he said. Her mind travelled the corridors one by one as her soldiers searched. Other than the usual service staff, the Hall remained largely unpopulated, with no courtiers or residents other than Munro and Ríona occupying the guest quarters. Four scholars were more or less permanent occupants who lived there but studied at various Halls. Some of t
he larger fae kingdoms kept cultural treasures on display in their Halls and even had libraries of their own, which contained script documents and whatever artefacts the keepers deemed not appropriate for the main collection. Eilidh asked Watchers to bring those four scholars to her.

  When they arrived, she prepared to break off her astral search, but Munro interceded, greeting them. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “There has been a murder, and the queen wished to verify your safety herself.”

  “A murder?” one of them asked. Eilidh thought the voice belonged to Tolbin, an expert in ancient dialects.

  “Yes,” Munro replied. “My research assistant, Ríona, has been killed by a traitor to Caledonia.”

  The four guests murmured their shock, and Eilidh realised they must have known Ríona well. The scholarly community tended to reject outsiders, but they had great respect for each other. The camaraderie extended even to those with whom they disagreed or from kingdoms with which their own might be at war.

  “Who would dare violate the Halls of Mist?” Tolbin asked, directing his question to the other scholars. “It’s unheard of.”

  “We are determined to find out,” Munro said. “The queen is scanning the Caledonian Hall and no one will enter or leave until we are satisfied Ríona’s killer has gone. Would each of you submit to the queen’s questions, to allow your minds to be probed?”

  Eilidh started. She hadn’t intended to ask them that. The request was invasive, even insulting, and judging by their reactions, the Hall’s guests felt the same way.

  Munro did his best to smooth over the affront. “I know what we’re asking is unusual, but you may have observed something important, something you don’t even realise, a detail, a person out of place or who behaved oddly. If Her Majesty can help you retrieve this information, we can ensure Ríona finds her proper rest.”

  His convincing words impressed Eilidh. How could they refuse such a reasonable request? Ríona was one of their own, and by treating them as valuable witnesses instead of suspects, he’d brought them around.