by Jim C. Hines
“Here we go,” said Tommy, steering his dragon into a small room with a square-framed pit in the floor. “Mind your step.” He rapped his shovel against the dragon’s flank, and they disappeared into the pit. The dragon didn’t bother with the wooden ladder built into the side; his claws gripped the rock with ease.
When Danielle reached the bottom, she found herself in a larger cavern. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, about thirty feet up at the highest point. The floor had been smoothed flat. Barrels lined the wall to the right. A crude, waist-high barrier of stacked stone blocked a drop-off on the far side.
Four knockers were currently working to shore up that barrier. One tamped a stone into place with his shovel. Another was tapping the blade of his shovel against the wall, listening intently to the sounds.
They turned away from their work and greeted Tommy in a language Danielle didn’t recognize. He laughed and jumped down from Koren. Without warning, he grabbed his shovel in both hands and swung it at the nearest knocker.
The knocker did the same. The clang of the shovels nearly deafened her, but the knockers were all laughing.
“They greet each other by swinging shovels at each other’s heads,” Gerta said.
Danielle smiled wryly. “Sounds like Talia’s kind of people.”
Tommy beckoned them forward. “Welcome to Speas Elan. Gold Haven, in your tongue. Though most of the gold was hauled out long ago.”
“How many of you whackers live down here?” Talia asked.
“Knockers, thank you very much. It’s well over two hundred at last count.”
The air was even warmer here. Danielle could feel the heat wafting up from the drop-off behind the barrier. She wiped sweat from her face, tucking her hair back behind her ears.
When she had first entered Fairytown in Lorindar, back before Jakob was born, she had been struck by the grandeur of the place. The vivid colors, the larger-than-life flowers and trees, the glow of magic. Speas Elan was the opposite, as if something had leached the color from this underground world. Dirt and dust painted everything in shades of red and brown. Even the flames of the knockers’ lanterns appeared subdued.
Through stairs cut into the left side of the cavern, Tommy brought them down into a second chamber. Here, a group of pixies, goblins, and a troll of some sort sat at a table with what looked like a normal human man.
“Oh, yes,” Tommy said to her unanswered question. “We have a few humans living down here. Fugitives, for the most part. Veleris has a soft heart. So long as they mind their place and earn their keep, they’re allowed to stay.”
“And if they don’t?” asked Talia.
Tommy winked. “The dragons can’t eat fish all the time, eh?” He dismounted and tied his dragon to a stone rail carved into the wall. After a short exchange with the troll, he turned back and said, “The Ladies are in the next room. Try not to make them angry.”
“What will they do?” Danielle asked.
“Oh, they probably won’t hurt you, not with the Duchess vouching for you,” Tommy said. “But most people prefer talking to Veleris. Make them angry or upset, and Bellum takes over. Mind your manners, and you’ll do all right. Leave your weapons with Oklok there, and come along.”
The troll held out a hand large enough to crush a human’s skull. Danielle handed over the short sword she had taken from the bandits, and waited while the others did the same. Gerta gave over a sling and dagger, and Talia did the same with her hunting knife.
Danielle cleared her throat. “Talia?”
Talia’s answering look was half innocence, half challenge.
“We’re guests here, asking for help.”
Talia rolled her eyes, but slipped the black-hilted athame from her sleeve and gave it to the troll.
The next room was larger, dominated by a low oblong table carved from the stone. For seating, the floor had been dug out around the table like a moat. At the table, midway through a meal of mushrooms and fish, were a handful of goblins, a greenish wart-skinned creature of a race Danielle didn’t recognize, and—
“The Fairy Ladies of Allesandria.” Tommy rapped his shovel to his helm twice as he bowed to the two-headed giant sitting at the head of the table. “Veleris and Bellum.” He leaned toward Danielle and whispered, “Veleris is the head on your right.”
The giant stood. Bellum continued chewing, seemingly absorbed in her meal as Veleris wiped her mouth on her wrist and studied them. They—or was it she?—stood twice as tall as a man, and three time as broad. Her arms were thicker than Danielle’s thighs. She wore a thick knee-length skirt dyed orange, with matching boots. Her skin was as pale as Snow’s.
Veleris smiled, displaying yellowed teeth the size of a horse’s. Her black hair was pulled to her left in a braided rope that brushed her shoulder, and she wore a leather headband studded with crudely hammered nuggets of gold.
“Thank you, Tommy,” said Veleris. Danielle recognized the voice. She searched the ceiling until she spotted a small metal cone in the rock, currently blocked by a wooden plug. They must have somehow run pipes through the entire mine to carry the sound to the door on the surface.
Tommy saluted again and backed away. To Danielle and the others, he whispered, “Good luck.”
“So the Duchess sent you to us,” said Veleris, studying them each in turn. When she came to the darkling, she grimaced. “And you’ve brought one of her spies.”
Danielle bowed. “The darkling helped us escape Kanustius, Your Grace.” She wasn’t certain of the Ladies’ proper title, but “Grace” was an accepted default among fairy nobles.
Veleris and Bellum glanced at one another. Bellum’s hair was shorter, slicked to her right with some sort of oil or grease. Her face was a mirror of Veleris’, broad and blocky, with a heavy brow, but where Veleris seemed genuinely pleased to meet them, Bellum looked like she wanted nothing more than to step across the table and start crunching bones.
“We are aware of the attack on Kanustius,” said Veleris. “What help would you ask of us?”
Danielle stepped closer to the edge of the table. “I was told you could help me to find my son, and that you would know how to stop the demon which has attacked Allesandria. The demon which has now taken King Laurence.” As quickly as she could, she summarized what they knew of the demon.
“Find your son and stop a demon,” Bellum muttered. “That’s two favors. Large favors. Humans are fools. Conjuring demons, then running around like children when their plans sour. A true demon, from the sound of things. You might as well burn your kingdom now and save yourselves the time.”
“I’m afraid I must agree,” said Veleris. “Your people are impulsive and quick to act. It can be a strength, but you neglect to think beyond your short lives to the consequences of your actions.”
“We didn’t crawl through miles of dirt and rock for a lecture,” Talia said. “This demon has already burned the palace.”
“Let them burn!” Bellum snatched the headband from Veleris and placed it on her own brow. “Let them know what it feels like to be hunted down, to be driven from their homes and destroyed. The more of you the demon kills, the safer this world becomes for our people.”
The other fairies at the table slunk away, escaping Bellum’s anger.
“Safer?” Talia repeated. “This thing has already murdered the dryad who brought us to Allesandria.”
Bellum slammed her hand on the table. “That’s what happens to our kind when we help humans.”
Danielle tried again, speaking as calmly as she could. “The Duchess—”
“The Duchess does not speak for Speas Elan,” snapped Bellum. “What goes on in your world is of no concern to us. Your people summoned this thing. You deal with it.”
“So you’ll do nothing?” demanded Talia.
Veleris whispered to Bellum, who rolled her eyes. “No,” Bellum said, not bothering to conceal her disgust. “We will help you. You may stay here. This place is safer than any in Allesandria. Whatever hell this dem
on creates, it won’t last forever. One day both you and we shall return to the surface. If not you, then your children, or theirs.”
“My child is a prisoner,” said Danielle. “I will get him back.”
“Then go,” said Bellum. “None here will stop you.”
Danielle glanced at her companions. Talia appeared ready to attack the giant barehanded. The darkling waited silently in the shadows, as did Gerta.
Danielle studied the giant more closely. Bellum glared right back, her yellow eyes daring Danielle to argue. Veleris, on the other hand, simply stared into the distance, her expression one of weary sadness.
“You’ve lived down here a long time,” said Danielle.
“More than a century.”
Well before the laws of Allesandria were changed. Rose Curtana had been but one in a long line of ambitious rulers who feared or hated fairykind. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” yelled Bellum. Veleris’ eyes fixed on Danielle.
“And how long have you ruled Speas Elan?” asked Danielle.
“Ever since the day we fled underground,” Bellum said. “By then we were hiding in small bands. Always moving. Always hiding. Your people hunted us for sport, did you know that?”
Danielle thought back to what Tommy had said about castes. Giants were servant caste, not royal. “You weren’t expecting to rule when you fled underground, were you? You weren’t trained for this. I know what it’s like to be thrust into leadership.”
“The royal caste ordered us to fight,” said Bellum, her tone wary. “They tried to rally a fairy army against your witches and wizards. Most of my kin joined them. They fell.”
“The demon will hunt humans and fairies both.” Danielle beckoned Gerta forward. “This woman is kin to King Laurence. If you choose to help us, both Lorindar and Allesandria would be in your debt.”
Veleris smiled. Without a word, she reached over to take the headband from Bellum. The headband marked which head was in charge at any given moment, Danielle realized, though she wasn’t entirely sure how they decided when it should be passed. She thought back to Tommy’s warning. Try not to make them angry. Perhaps Bellum dominated in matters of anger and conflict, while Veleris ruled for more peaceful topics.
Both of the giant’s heads turned toward Gerta. “What are you?” asked Veleris. “There’s an aura to you that reminds me of a fairy changeling, but your magic is human.”
“She’s like a changeling, only fresher,” said Bellum. “She stinks like a newborn.”
“A conjuration, to be certain,” Veleris said. “Hastily constructed, a painting not yet dried.”
Gerta sniffed. “I beg your pardon?”
“Typical human sloppiness,” Bellum concluded.
“I’m not—”
Danielle grabbed Gerta’s arm and squeezed. “Don’t upset them.” To Veleris, she said, “She is our friend. And there must be some way you could help us. I give you my word we’ll do whatever we can to aid you and your people in return.”
“The help of a dead woman’s little use to us,” Bellum muttered.
“Come with us,” Veleris said. “We will give you what aid we can, within limits. We won’t risk our people’s safety.”
“I understand,” said Danielle. “Thank you.”
“That’s it?” Talia asked warily. “No price, no bargain? What kind of fairy are you?”
Veleris smiled. “The kind who recognizes that the things I want are beyond your power.”
“Or the kind that doesn’t expect you to survive long enough to fulfill your side of any bargain,” Bellum added with a chuckle. “Come along, O short-lived ones.”
The giant led them through another tunnel to a large, rectangular doorway. A dragon guarded the door, this one larger and darker in color than Koren. A thick chain ran from his leather collar to a bolt in the floor. He lay curled on his side against the wall, eyeing them warily as they approached. He must have decided they were safe, because he stretched, then curled his neck down and began to spit tiny gouts of flame against his own backside.
“What is he doing?” asked Gerta.
“Cleaning himself.” Veleris pounded the dragon’s neck as she stepped past. The dragon climbed to his feet and rubbed the top of his head against Veleris’ palm, like a dog begging to be petted. Veleris chuckled as she opened the door. “If I wasn’t with you, he’d already have barbequed you and your friends.”
Danielle wished they had been allowed to reclaim their weapons. Tame or not, the creature was still large enough to rip off an arm or leg with a single bite. Though she doubted the dragon would even notice an attack by anything less than an enchanted blade.
The giant’s room was modest, little more than an oversized storeroom with wood-planked walls and old support beams. At some point in the past, the wooden wall on the back had been torn down and crude shelves carved into the rock. Oversized parchments, each tightly rolled and tied, were stuffed onto the shelves. A dirty curtain partially concealed a smaller cave, where rumpled blankets were tossed over a woven mat. A small oil lantern hung on the wall to the right of the doorway.
“Make sure you shut the door,” said Veleris. “The beast likes to sneak in and steal a snack.” She patted a barrel that smelled of old fish.
“What’s his name?” asked Gerta as she pulled the door closed.
“What gives me the right to impose a name upon another creature?” Veleris began digging through the parchments, scanning small symbols jotted on the ends of each. With a satisfied grunt, she yanked one out and unrolled it across the floor. “Hold that, will you?”
The parchment was the size of a small carpet, covering more than half the floor. Line after line of tiny brown characters were broken only by meticulously precise drawings. Danielle had spent enough time with Snow to recognize various summoning circles.
“What kind of skin is this?” asked Gerta.
“Dragon,” said Bellum. “It lasts much longer than ordinary parchment.”
“My mother trapped the demon within a mirror,” said Gerta. “Bound by a platinum frame. The summoning ring was built into the palace, but it was the mirror that held the demon.”
“Mm.” Veleris scowled. “Your mother summoned the creature in spirit only. Clever. But even so, no simple circle would have held this demon.”
“What would?” asked Talia.
“Power.” Bellum bared her teeth. “There are techniques to trap magic within the metal. Build a forge fueled by the bones of a hundred wizards, quench the white-hot metal in their blood . . . you might be able to contain even a major demon for a while. But that frame lost its hold when the demon escaped, and it has a body now”
“What does that mean?” asked Talia. “Do we need the bones of two hundred wizards? Give me a week in Kanustius, and—”
“Snow gives the demon physical form.” Veleris grabbed another scroll and unrolled it over the first. “That can be a weakness as well as a strength. Snow White’s power is added to its own, but the demon’s magic is now channeled through her human body.”
Bellum grunted. “Fairy magic would likely resist her power, at least for a time.”
“It does,” said Danielle. “My son . . . he has fairy blood. The demon’s magic didn’t work on him.”
Veleris stared at her a long time, her face furrowed. “I’m not going to ask.”
Gerta was crouched on the floor, squinting as though she could figure out the language on the giant’s parchment through sheer willpower. “I’ve touched the demon’s power, seen what it can do. How can a young child resist that, even with fairy blood?”
“It’s not what he does,” said Veleris. “It’s what he is.” She pointed to a small illustration of intersecting circles. “Your kind believe demons are creatures of Hell, yes? Made to torment the damned for all eternity?”
“There are some who believe that,” Danielle said.
Veleris smiled. “What hold would such a being have over a fairy, destined for neither Heaven nor Hell
?”
Bellum snorted. “Mystic claptrap. Fairies are magic, that’s all. Fairy magic and human magic overlap, as do human and demon, but fairy and demon magic are like oil and water.”
Gerta paled. “That’s why she—why the demon needs Jakob.”
Everyone turned to face her.
“Danielle, when you saw Jakob in your vision, you said he sat upon a frozen lake polished smooth as glass. A mirror of ice. He was playing with shards of ice, and his hands were bleeding. Jakob was born of darkling magic. He has fairy power in his blood, as well as human. What would happen if that blood were mixed into a mirror formed of ice?”
“She’s already used a great many shards from her mother’s mirror,” Danielle said. “She has to be running low. But if that lake serves as a new mirror, every splinter of ice carrying her magic . . .”The demon would have a never-ending supply of power. One infused with her son’s blood and magic as well as her own.
Veleris whistled softly. Bellum scowled. “Possible,” she said. “I don’t understand human magic that well, but—”
“Snow could do it,” Gerta said. “I couldn’t, but she could figure it out.”
“How much—” Danielle swallowed and forced herself to finish. “How much of his blood would she need?”
“It’s hard to say.” Bellum shrugged her shoulder. “How many drops of poison does it take to kill a man?”
“Depends on the poison and the weight of the man,” Talia shot back.
“She could keep him alive,” said Veleris. “Bleed him each day, taking only what she needs. With care, he could survive for years.”
“Don’t give them false hope,” Bellum said. “More likely, once the demon figures out how to use the boy’s blood, it will kill him and spill it all. Demons aren’t known for their patience.”