by Eric Asher
Throwing an incantation while running was a sure way to miss your target. But one thing Zola had taught me was if you threw a large-enough ball of fire in an enclosed space, you didn’t really need to aim. “Magnus Ignatto!”
I stumbled as the power ripped through me. I felt what was left of the hairs on my arms burn to a crisp. Morrigan, almost distant now, made the turn through the intersection and flew up the stairs. She’d be safe from the heat, though I wasn’t sure if she was susceptible to fire incantations. The chaotic wall of flame shot forward at irregular intervals until it crashed into the writhing mass of what now looked very much like lampreys or dying gray vines draped in gore and dripping blood I suspected was from our allies.
Whatever they were, they were sentient. The instant the flames hit and widened to the point that I couldn’t see down the hallway through the fire and pain in my arms, something else screamed. It wasn’t immediately recognizable as pain, as the sound was so deep and basso it took me a moment to understand the earth wasn’t shaking around me. I let the fires die away and gasped for breath as I stumbled forward, making my way for the staircase as the soles of my boots sizzled on the superheated stone beneath them.
The fire faded, but it took time. I closed on the staircase that would let me climb to salvation. But even as the fires died, revealing the charred tentacles of roots and flesh and whatever else that thing had dragged down here, the snakelike vines moved again. Perhaps it was an illusion that they stuttered and stopped and restarted, but I liked to think they were injured.
But that didn’t mean they couldn’t kill me in a heartbeat.
A roar sounded in earnest, but this time it was a roar I knew. A wall of gray exploded in front of me. The long tail of a lizard that shouldn’t exist stretched out from the mass as four enormous legs materialized beneath it with a whumph. Ash and debris flew up from beneath Jasper’s massive wings. He reared back, unhinged his jaw, and a hellish blue flame exploded from his mouth. I dove behind the dragon, taking shelter by one of his hind legs. I sagged against him as the air thinned, and I felt like my lungs would catch fire at any moment. But they didn’t, and the flames receded, and the gray flesh moved no more. For a time. Then Jasper shrank, staying large enough for me to lean against, but losing the sheer level of intimidation he had as a full-sized dragon.
I was making the turn into the intersection when the smoke cleared to little more than wisps of gray, allowing me to see the eyes of the dullahan, still watching in the distance. As I looked back, I caught movement. The charred flesh flicked away, and the creature raced toward a cell before a voice boomed through the halls.
“Dragon fire?” the thing said. “Who walks these halls? Who dares interrupt my hunt for the Abyss creature?”
Exhaustion settled into my bones, but I stood my ground. I patted Jasper on the head and kept one foot on the first step that would lead to safety. Unless this thing was faster than I’d seen so far, I could still escape. Curiosity had its claws in me.
A hunched form swept through one of the cells as a tangle of vines and wood retreated toward a shadowed form. It stepped forward into the edge of the torchlight that had been ignited by Jasper, or me.
My breath hitched as I stared at the bark-covered face and the jagged openings of the glowing green eyes. Its mouth was little more than a serrated break in the bark it wore like armor.
“You?” I said. “I saw you in Greenville. What are you doing here?”
The being froze. Its face shifted, and the bark almost seemed to frown.
“Speak carefully,” Morrigan said from the top of the stairs. “The forest gods are powerful.”
I frowned. “Forest gods?”
“You have met others of my kind,” the creature said extending a hand, palm open before curling into a fist. It was formed of tightly knit vines, and some of them appeared to be charred. “There are not so many of us as there once were. Where is this Greenville of which you speak?”
“Missouri.”
“The war-torn lands,” the creature said, her words trailing off as if lost in thought. “I have family in that place. Though some are not so benevolent.”
“Like the green men?” I asked.
The treelike face swayed toward one wall and then the other between releasing what I can only think of as a scratchy laugh. “The green men are followers, for we are their gods.”
“Like Gaia?” I’d spent many hours, days even, looking for any information on the thing I’d met on the battlefield of Greenville. I’d mistaken it for a green man, but of that it most surely wasn’t. But now Morrigan seemed to know what this thing was, and if I was judging by appearance alone, I suspected it was the same kind of creature.
“The goddess left us long ago,” the forest god said. “Some believe she will return one day. But I fear all of our lands will be ash by that time.”
“The forests?”
“Yes,” the forest god said, her form shrinking as she appeared to settle into the corner of the intersection. “Even if our goddess returns, it will be too late for my child. It is the way of things, though, for all of us beings who march against time. Even the oldest of us cannot remember the beginning of this world.”
I hesitated, then spoke the question in my mind. “What happened to your child?”
The glow around those green eyes narrowed, and it gave the forest god’s face a hardened look, nearly as full of rage as the creature I’d encountered in Greenville. “Humanity. And what humanity couldn’t finish on their own has been lost to the Fae. Fae who should know better than to let the children of Gaia die.”
Morrigan crept down the stairs. She was no longer the crone or the raven, and for a moment I didn’t realize it was her. But I caught a glimpse of her black eyes, darker than the shadows around us. “You are Gund. Shepherd of the old mountains. What the humans call Appalachia.”
The forest god shifted to the other side of the hall. “I have been called that name before. But I am not the only one of my kind. My husband rules to the north, while my child waits for death in the war-torn lands. A forest grown in the blood of men, risen through the metal and death they left in the earth.”
“But you think Gaia could save him?” I asked.
“The forest gods who once ruled here are already lost.”
A hoarse whisper sounded behind the forest god.
The mass of vines and bark and ash turned toward it, opening enough of the view down the hallway for me to see the dullahan.
“That thing sure is persistent,” I muttered. “Is it a danger to you? Because it sure as hell is a danger to us.”
“No,” the forest god boomed. “I have no quarrel with the dullahan. And it has no quarrel with me. If you wish to have a formidable ally, it is the dullahan you should seek a pact with. A slayer of mortal and immortal alike.”
Something thundered deeper and distant in the catacombs.
“Leave this place in peace,” the forest god said as she turned to leave.
“I know Gaia,” I said, unable to stop the words, wanting to reach out to this creature and learn more.
“Many beings know Gaia,” she said, “but many more have allowed her to die.”
“I’ve walked the Abyss with her. I call her friend. She still lives. There’s still hope for your woods.”
The forest god turned back and met my gaze. It felt as though those glowing eyes, carved of crystal and light, looked deep inside my thoughts. “Then tell her she is needed. And the time for slumber is long past.”
With that, the vines and wood that formed the forest god’s body slipped out of the light, moved through the shadows, and vanished back into the cell they had come from.
“Follow me,” Morrigan said, “before something else finds us.”
For a moment, I stared at the empty space where the forest god had been. In the end, I trailed after the Morrigan.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We reached the top of the stairs, and Jasper trundled forward, his miniature drago
n form shrinking further and losing shape until he was once again an oversized dust bunny with enormous black eyes. Vicky stood beside Zola, and a pair of Utukku each held a spear in their right hand, the butt resting on the floor and the tip pointed toward the heavens. I nodded to each of them, and they briefly touched their spear hands to their chests in acknowledgment.
Vicky crouched and scooped up Jasper. He took up his usual perch on her shoulder while Zola eyed the mass of fluff.
Zola turned to Aideen and Morrigan in turn. “What in the hell is a forest god?”
Aideen took a deep breath then snapped back into her smaller form. She glided down to a white pedestal against the wall. A series of fairy-sized seats adorned the top of the stone. The backs of the chairs were odd, narrowing greatly toward the base, but when Aideen sat in one, I understood why. Her wings fit perfectly without having to be bent or folded. It gave her a grand appearance, with wings spread and her posture rigid. I wondered what purpose those chairs had been built for, but it didn’t distract from the question at the front of my mind.
“So, what are they?” I asked, bringing the focus back to the forest gods.
“They are old spirits,” Aideen said. “Predecessors to the green men. Commoners might refer to them as ancestors, but it is different than that. It would be like saying that a creature more powerful, and more fit for survival, evolved into a weaker form of itself. That is how I think commoners would best understand it, and perhaps even you. A reverse evolution, if you will. Those gods did not need so much power anymore, they did not need such levels of violence to survive, so those abilities fled. The elements of their being that tap into the ley lines are not the same as those of the green men.”
“I’ve seen them before,” I said.
Aideen nodded. “I know. You told us many times of the strange green man you met on the battlefield at Greenville. But that is not what I expected. I never would’ve thought it was a forest god. It’s been a long time since they’ve shown themselves.”
“Forest god or not,” Morrigan said, “they are not the threat we face this day. We should rally the Inn and make ready for Nudd’s assault.”
“Our soldiers are prepared,” one of the Utukku said. “We have made the sacrifices required of us, and we will fight at your side. We will die at your side, if needed.”
“And you will have your honor,” Morrigan said. “Though I hope the cost is not too high.”
“Do you wish to review our ranks?” the Utukku asked.
Morrigan nodded. “I would. Our guests have not seen the expanded grounds. Show them what’s been done here.”
“Of course.” The Utukku inclined her head to Morrigan before leading the way to an arched hallway at the other end of the room. Our group followed, but Zola made a low sound, something like a hum.
I turned to glance back at her.
Zola frowned as she brushed a series of braids behind her ear. “There is something more valuable we must discuss.”
“Such as?” Morrigan asked.
Aideen fluttered above us for a moment before settling on Zola’s shoulder.
“A simple question,” Zola said. “What Fae would have the power to possess another and cast a glamour so thoroughly that only a seeing stone could pierce it?”
“That’s an answer I’d like, too,” Aideen said. “Do you have anyone here that powerful? Or have you heard of anyone?”
“There are always rumors,” Morrigan said as we crossed into the hallway. “As to which of those rumors are true, and which are misdirection, I cannot say.”
“There aren’t many Fae that have the abilities to match what you’ve described,” Aideen said. “Many of them are thought to be lost to time, were thought to have died in the Wandering War, but our new knowledge of the forest gods makes me wonder what else has survived the ages.”
“Perhaps we should ask those who saw those darker days,” Morrigan said. “Perhaps even a man who has worn the cursed dead as his armor.”
“The Old Man,” Zola said. “He is certainly knowledgeable when it comes to killing.”
“Nixie said he’s in Faerie with Ward,” I said.
Morrigan nodded. “They journey to Gorias, to seek allies and those who are willing to fight alongside the commoners.”
“The Old Man is on a recruiting mission?” I asked, slowly raising an eyebrow.
“There is no one better,” Morrigan said. “He has the respect of much of Faerie, and a history of walking between two worlds. His time in warfare is no small measure, even by the standards of the immortals.”
My eyebrow settled down. “When you put it like that … I guess.” But I just remembered him kicking my ass during training and being an obstinate mentor to Dell, for the most part. Useful, yes, but a good first impression? I wasn’t so sure.
“There is another who may help,” Morrigan said. “Come, I will show you to the training grounds, so you may witness the growing strength of the White Hand.”
“White Hand?” Zola asked as we stepped into a sloppy formation behind Morrigan.
“The White Hand of Nudd was a mark once used to identify his followers,” Aideen said. “Only those who wished to declare their allegiance to him bore it.”
“Yes,” Morrigan said. “The irony is not lost on us. It shall be his own hand that strikes him down.”
I frowned as we passed another hall and saw what I could have sworn was one of the Utukku’s instant-death rooms. A place where, if someone used the Warded Ways uninvited, they’d be skewered immediately. For some reason, I’d thought it had been closer to the stairs we’d used to come out of the catacombs. It was odd how the brain played tricks sometimes. How you could remember something so clearly, but when you saw it again, it was almost as if it had changed.
We followed Morrigan deeper into the hall, walking shoulder to shoulder until the expanse narrowed. I fell back behind Vicky so we had more room to walk, until the width lessened yet again and we were nearly walking single file. Morrigan vanished as she took a shadowed doorway I could scarcely see in the torchlight.
“This is a little creepy,” Vicky said.
Jasper chittered in agreement.
“Some Fae used to say it was the mad tunnels of the Mad King,” Aideen said. “This was a stronghold in Faerie. The narrowing hallways and twisted corridors gave the defenders ample chance to fight back and eliminate their invaders.”
We came close to a torch mounted higher on the wall before I realized it was a Fae light. There was no warmth, only illumination from the small flickering orb. Aideen pointed up to a slit near the light.
“You can still see the arrow slits. Archers could hide behind the wall, and only the most accurate of their enemy could hope to strike back.”
“Or a powerful-enough incantation,” Zola said as she pulled back her hood. Her braids swung free and her face wrinkled as she squinted at the tiny slits in the wall. “Not much range of motion. Most of the arrow slits in the old forts would give you a wide berth.”
“Some of those slits were not manned by fairies in their larger states,” Aideen said. “Some of us would wield bows from tiny platforms set just inside the wall. And as for incantations, the stone was enchanted. Only the strongest of mages could have broken through it.”
Morrigan harrumphed. “There were other ways in those times. When basilisks were more common, and a few twisted Fae would use the magic of life with deadly intent.”
Vicky perked up at that. “What do you mean?”
Morrigan glanced back at the girl as we continued forward. “It is something your necromancer can speak to you of. Twisting a magic meant to bring life, forcing a plant to kill, a root to rise and impale your foe, a vine to strangle them, a tower to collapse on top of them.”
“Like that spiky forest you used to kill the demons in the Burning Lands?” Vicky asked.
I gave an uneasy laugh and glanced at Morrigan. “Yeah, kid, exactly like that. You can’t claim plants don’t kill, too. Look at the pitcher
plant or the Venus fly trap.”
“Did you hurt your back?” Zola asked. “Trying to twist your logic around that much, boy? Ah have the name of a good chiropractor if you need one.”
Aideen stifled a laugh, and I glared at the fairy before cracking a smile of my own.
The narrow hall took one last bend and then expanded like the stage of an amphitheater. We spread out within the room of gray stone. The change from the golden ambient light was harsh, and it hardly felt like fairy work until I saw the doors. Massive battle scenes rose from those towering bronze monoliths. And it reminded me of the pillars outside the gates of Falias. Some I recognized: legends of the Morrigan, the crow perched upon a broken branch, Hern leading an intricately carved mass I had little doubt was the Wild Hunt, and even Nudd throwing down the Mad King, and raising the hand of glory. Gaia’s hand. The flesh that rested in my backpack at that very moment.
“There is no fighting in these halls,” Morrigan said. “Once you pass through these doors, this is a place of peace, unless you are one of those standing within the ring.”
I exchanged a look with Zola, and was glad to see I wasn’t the only one somewhat confused by Morrigan’s words. But before we could so much as ask her to clarify what in the ever-loving hell she was talking about, Morrigan threw open the doors. Whatever the intent of her comments had been fled my mind.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The door opened to reveal a massive cavern, its gently sloping walls polished to a mirror shine, that stretched to a strip of rough stone some 30 feet above our heads. But that wasn’t the truly awe-inspiring sight.
As far and wide as I could see, an army of Fae trained. They moved as one, one section of the floor wielding swords, rising with the grace of a crane before striking forward like a viper. The mere sight of their lunges was enough to make me wonder how I’d survived more than one battle with any fairy.
Another group used halberds. A third line of fairies sat on the backs of their owls, still in their small forms, the movement of the birds so perfectly synchronized with the riders it was an unnerving sight to behold. Even the owls cocked their heads at the same time, flashed a wing, and struck out in unison with talons as sharp as any dagger.