by Phil Parker
‘We were both Trooping Fairies, highness.’
A group who were all supposed to be dead yet had once included in their ranks Oisin’s lover and my spy in the human realm, I wondered if there was a connection.
‘Bring her to me.’
The four guards immediately turned, met a petite woman at the door and positioned themselves around her as they marched forward to join Petroc. She was not young, but like all Pixies, she kept her age well. Her body was muscled and her eyes made of stern stuff, the cheek beneath one of them had a bruise forming but she’d clearly come off better in her scuffle with my guards.
‘Highness, may I introduce Islene. We chose to retire from the Trooping Fairies at the same time, my leg injury left me with no choice, she chose to marry a big stubborn man.’
The Pixie grinned. It faded quickly as she looked up at me and across to Oisin.
‘Why are you here Islene?’ I asked.
The woman took a deep breath, clearly composing herself, I had the impression she’d rehearsed her reply, she delivered it like a soldier provides a report, factual and brief.
‘Your highness, Master Oisin, thank you granting me this interview. I come from the demesne of Lord Taranis and have been one of his subjects for the whole of my life.’
She paused long enough to watch our reactions, Oisin didn’t attempt to hide his.
‘My husband has been his prisoner for a long time. However, some days ago I was visited by Master Oisin’s good friend. Robin Goodfellow.’
I heard Oisin gasp and place his hand across his mouth.
‘Robin and I knew each other from the Trooping Fairies too. He told me he’d come to this realm by a secret portal he’d found to discover who was responsible for repeated attempts on his life. He had been joined by a human soldier.’
Petroc blinked at that, clearly she hadn’t shared that titbit.
‘However, Robin and this human were captured by Taranis. Master Oisin, when I read your document and realised who it was you held responsible for the rape of this woman, I knew you had to share my need for justice. I’ve spent some time amongst the local people and heard stories of a woman in the palace giving birth to a baby in secret. My enquiries discovered your involvement, your Highness. Also that you were to be Taranis’ wife, though I believe that situation has now changed?’
This woman had been busy. She watched us closely. Oisin was doing nothing to mask his excitement, he gabbled his question as though he couldn’t get the words out fast enough.
‘Do you know what happened to Robin?’ Then to me. ‘Could it be the same man you saw being tortured?’
I cast my mind back.
‘Taranis said he was a spy but he’d once been a Trooping Fairy.’
The woman and Oisin shared a look. Their faces shared their dread but Oisin’s expression shifted into something I failed to read. The Pixie was talking.
‘It is well known that man experiments on his own people. It is not just torture, though he would use it to find out why Robin has returned. He will also have inflicted pain for no other reason than Robin was your late grandmother’s paladin, your Highness.’
She left the implied responsibility to hang in the air between us.
‘However, Master Oisin, there were stories of some prisoners escaping the castle, disguised as plague victims. No one escapes. It is unknown. I can only assume that somehow Robin’s resourcefulness is responsible.’
For the first time in an age, Oisin gave the slightest of smiles. The woman’s story had ended and she watched me carefully.
‘What do you want to achieve from this interview?’ I asked.
‘Your help, your Highness, to bring Lord Taranis to justice and to rescue my husband. I can offer you little, except my dedication and loyalty if you agree to assist me.’
‘You’ll forgive me, but you are one woman. Besting a handful of my guards is one thing, outsmarting Taranis and bringing him to justice is quite different.’
I saw Petroc react, he went to speak but the small woman beat him to it.
‘And if you’ll forgive me, but you people are too quick to judge people based on what you think you see. That’s why assassins are free to wander into your bed chamber. Everyone probably thought he was some rich aristocrat because of the way he waddled about like a fat duck.’
I burst out laughing.
‘You’re probably right Islene. Though Petroc may think differently.’
Except he didn’t say anything but remained impassive and silent. I looked at her fierce expression and found myself liking the woman.
‘Very well. I will admit, at this moment I do not have a plan where Lord Taranis is concerned. I would like to meet with Robin Goodfellow, my grandmother valued him very highly, and he may be able to help us. But you can be assured that when we do decide to act, I will want your help.’ Her ferocity, her no-nonsense directness matched Petroc’s, I needed people like this around me and recent events proved security needed tightening. ‘In the meantime, I have a role for you, if you’re interested?’
The woman frowned.
‘I’d like you to become my personal bodyguard.’
Petroc didn’t hide his astonishment but before he could react I continued.
‘I have complete faith in you Petroc, do not misinterpret my actions. But this woman makes a valid point, we may mistake assassins for people we know, even trust. I want someone who will be at my side all the time, the last bastion of security. We cannot overlook what has happened in the Dark Court, and how close the killer was to his victim.’
Petroc nodded and turned to look at the Pixie woman, one corner of his mouth twitched which meant she’d also got his approval.
‘Islene,’ I said, ‘You will be at my side all the time. I’m sure between us, we can find a way to deal with that bastard Taranis. So, do you want the job?’
She gave me a thin-lipped smile. ‘Thank you, your highness. I do.’
‘Good. Petroc will see that you are properly equipped with armour and weapons and then…’
Those sharp eyes held mine, the loud sigh suggested she had other ideas.
‘Highness, if you don’t mind, I doubt your palace will find armour suited to someone of my size but I prefer not to be hindered by such fine decoration.’
Petroc and the other men visibly bristled, I stopped myself from laughing.
‘I would prefer to wear fighting leathers. If an assailant penetrates them then I deserve to die, regardless of any shiny safeguards.’
I couldn’t help but giggle, it was going to be fun having this woman around.
‘Petroc will provide you with such an outfit, Islene.’
I turned to the dour-faced soldier in front of me.
‘Make it a priority Petroc, I want her equipped and at my side within the hour.’
He blinked once but saluted, turned and marched out of the hall, Islene ambled after them, a grin on her pretty face.
‘Where do you think he’d go?’
Oisin stared out the window again, he knew who I was talking about.
‘I can’t think. From your description of Taranis’s torture, he can’t be in any state to travel far, even Robin has his limits and we both know what a sadistic bastard Taranis is. Besides, he doesn’t know anyone, he’s been away for too long.’
Once again, tears rolled down Oisin’s pale cheeks, they were still ignored.
‘Someone must have helped him escape. Do you think it was the human soldier?’
A sullen shrug.
‘We need to find him Oisin.’
Perhaps it was the call to action but those blue eyes turned on me, they’d lost the pity and the desperation, now there was purpose.
‘Leave that to me.’
I grinned at him. Grandmother’s ghost hovered over me, I could hear her advice, when you’re uncertain about anything, keep things vague. She had valued Robin Goodfellow, though I was still to be convinced, but he might be a weapon I could use against Taranis. The man in
front of me was partly crippled and an emotional time bomb but now he had a purpose and I hoped that would be enough. I hoped he wouldn’t get himself killed in the process, his lover would undoubtedly blame me for sending Oisin on a potentially dangerous mission. The fact remained, Goodfellow had the potential to offer significant help and I needed him found.
‘Good luck Oisin,’ I said and hugged him tightly.
Chapter 15
Insults can come in many different forms. I’ve probably experienced most of them in my life, usually prefaced with ‘Robin Goodfellow you are…’
There are others, those intended as compliments, delivered with a smile and the satisfaction of something akin to hero worship. Cori had warned me of his twin’s curiosity so I should have been forewarned. All the same, they were insults, meant in the nicest of ways.
Cori confined his twin’s visits to five minutes, so as not to exhaust me. The fact was, I couldn’t stand any longer without wanting to explode. Geralt saw me as a mentor, a guide who could offer advice to refine his thinking. Like all of the Imperium, Geralt was clever. He had to have read every book there ever was, he mentioned names of people who’d invented theories of this, that and the other, and was surprised I didn’t know them personally. Five minutes of that and I was happy the guy got evicted, even though he’d abandoned his home for me. The problem, I soon discovered, lay in the comparatively short life spans of the Imperium, compared to the Fae. Geralt wanted to know the context of these theories and to do that, I had to tell him about what life had been like in ancient times.
Ancient times.
He’d sit there, on the ground, cross-legged like an eager school boy, looking up at me as he fired his questions. Why had the Fae not sustained their technological evolution after encountering humanity? What was the political landscape like that led up to the civil war? What had life been like before the Knights’ Protocol when humans and Fae lived side by side? Was it the cause for them to enslave other races, and if so, why?
I felt like a wrinkled old sage, respected for his wisdom, for no other reason than he was older than everyone else. I knew if I didn’t leave this village soon I’d be pissing myself and needing my food mashed up. Like I said, insults come in different forms.
Luke found the whole thing hilarious. The bastard. I could see him shield his giggles with a hand across his mouth, my angry glares in his direction only made it worse.
Geralt was particularly fascinated by the stories of how Arthur had brought education, justice and medicine to the land he’d called Camelot, as though I’d witnessed it first-hand. The young man’s current theory was to return to this social model. I could provide insights books could never deliver.
‘I realise you weren’t alive Robin, but Arthur’s reign was a golden age when humans and Fae lived alongside each other peacefully. He used their knowledge to bring equality and prosperity. What I don’t understand is why it all went wrong? If we could, somehow, rediscover those days, this land could thrive. Instead its stagnating because the Fae prefer to rely on slave races like the Imperium to sustain their lifestyle.’
Cori still hadn’t returned after half an hour and I genuinely felt tired. Geralt’s questions had got Luke frowning, which wasn’t good news.
‘You told me the Knight twins were descended from Gawain. How did the war between humanity and the Fae begin? Geralt’s right, if we knew what was at the root of their hatred for one another, we might find ways to achieve peace between both races.’
I glanced at the doorway in the hope Cori would enter and tell everyone to leave but all I could see was blue sky. I could tell Geralt to leave of course, but the hospitality we’d received from these people had been boundless, despite their own shortcomings. This was apparently the burden we Ancient Ones were forced to bear, so I dispensed my brand of wisdom and hoped Cori would soon come to the rescue.
‘The trouble with history, as someone once said, is that it gets written by the victors. Arthur’s reign wasn’t quite as noble as it’s been recorded, Geralt. There wasn’t a lot of sharing going on. There was quite a bit of stealing.’
Both men frowned.
‘Arthur was a hybrid, his parents were Uther Pendragon, a human king who abducted Igraine, a princess of the Light Court. Depending on who you ask, either he raped her or she fell in love with him. Either way, a young Nimue, the Lady of the Lake, persuaded the Fae to acknowledge Arthur’s royal blood. Trouble was when Arthur grew up, he took advantage of having a foot in both camps. According to the Dark Court, he was an interloper.’
Now both men sat glued to my story, eyes wide with wonder. Still no sigh of Cori.
‘Now this is where the story gets confusing. According to the Dark Court, if you listen to someone like Cernunnos, Arthur stole Fae technology to increase his power in both realms. But according to his sister, Morgana, Arthur wasn’t the villain of this story. He’d certainly taken this device but there was more to it than that. Anyway, she died before she could clear it all up. That’s the Light Court version that Nimue provided.’
My energy levels were fading quickly and I knew both men were so engaged there’d be an interrogation to follow. I just needed to be firm with them. Finish the story, get some rest.
‘The Fae’s relationship with humanity faltered and they declared war on Arthur. But that caused tensions in Tir na nÓg to erupt, old resentments boiled over and the two Courts went to war. Nimue cooled things with humanity by creating the Knights’ Protocol, it reviewed the conflict for every human generation, in the form of a battle. It also banned any travel between the two realms. Gawain, Arthur’s champion, fought the first round against Cernunnos, and won. His family maintained that obligation until the last generation was murdered and I agreed to protect their kids. So if you can untangle all of that, good luck.’
The forlorn expressions on both men halted the interrogation. Geralt stared into the flames of the small fire in the middle of the hut and shook his head.
‘So the Fae chose to enslave other races as a consequence.’
Luke stared into the flames but didn’t say anything. Geralt stood up and apologised for taking up so much of my time and energy. He looked deflated, his voice was flat, his narrow shoulders sagged. He left without saying another word. It was a relief though I felt guilty about disappointing the guy. I laid back on my bed and let the exhaustion claim me.
‘I’d hoped there might be something in your story that could help humanity too,’ Luke said softly. ‘I know how he feels.’
I sighed.
‘That’s the nature of the Imperium. They’re academics. Full of theories but few practical solutions.’
‘Is that the name of their race?’
I chuckled, realising Luke’s ignorance. ‘Humans used to think they were mischievous, I’ve never known why. They shortened their name in the old days. They called them Imps.’
I could hear the bewilderment in Luke’s voice. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep.
‘And these other races, Imps, Pixies and Spriggans, they were all found in the different worlds reached by the portals?
A loud warning call penetrated the quiet beyond the hut, it was picked up and passed around the camp in seconds. I struggled out of bed, despite my body’s reluctance, Luke helped me to the hut’s doorway. From the direction we’d arrived, at the far end of the river valley, horsemen galloped towards us. Even from this distance the colours flying from the lead rider made it obvious who they represented.
‘They’re Taranis’ men,’ I said.
In front of them, running for all he was worth, Cori. He’d been the one to raise the warning, he collapsed in front of the nearest hut, gasping for breath. Two women hurried over and helped him into a hut, the men of the village were already gathering weapons and preparing to meet the riders. I looked around the hut for something to use too.
‘You’re staying here!’
Luke pointed a finger at me as though he was ordering somebody in his regiment. I didn’t argue
, my legs were already wobbly, I’d be a liability. I promised to stay where I was. He snatched the wooden pole with its makeshift curtain, which he threw on the ground, and ran outside brandishing its length and getting used to the pole’s balance
Taranis’s riders were human, boggarts and spriggans spook horses. They’d probably been sent to recapture me, they were cavalry so all they carried were swords, they’d travelled for speed and didn’t anticipate any threat. There were eight of them but men on horseback armed with swords represented a greater threat than a bunch of villagers with an axe, a spade, a rake and wooden poles like the one Luke brandished. This was my fault, I’d brought these men here and I couldn’t help.
Like cavalry are trained to do, they stormed through the village at breakneck speed, swords raised to slice anything in their way. An old man was scythed down because he couldn’t get out of their way fast enough, another got caught between two riders and was dismembered with frightening ferocity. Luke and another man ran at the last two riders, they whirled their poles around their heads to gather momentum. Luke’s comrade smacked a horse’s front legs, it staggered and lost its footing, flinging its rider over its head. He landed on his neck and didn’t get up. Luke, being taller, swivelled his pole so it struck the other rider hard against the chest, knocking him backwards onto the ground. Like a dancer, Luke used the pole’s momentum so he stood over the dazed rider and with a deft flick of a wrist jammed it down onto the man’s throat. With the move completed he’d already pivoted and twirled his weapon, like he was in a marching band, as he sought out his next target.
Except the rest had ridden through the village and were turning to complete another attack. They’d left devastation in their wake. Two women lay writhing and screaming on the ground, one without an arm, the other with blood erupting from a slash wound across her back.
As the riders turned, one cantered into the nearest hut, forcing out two frightened children. He burst out of the doorway seconds later, holding his sword in one hand and a flaming torch in the other, setting fire to the dry wooden wall in the process. The two children, hardly older than eight or nine years old, screamed as he caught up with them and cut them down in one swipe of his blade.