Reunion

by Jennifer Fallon

  But he'd been ordered to bring both boys to the Hag. Marcroy was not sure what her reaction would be to him turning up with just one of them.

  Better that though, he reasoned, than trying to explain how I had one in my grasp and let him get away.

  "You will not be so defiant when confronted by the Hag," Marcroy warned.

  "The Hag can kiss my ass," Rónán replied with such a complete lack of respect for the Brethren it left Marcroy gasping.

  "It is not possible you could be the fruit of my loins," he said, shaking his head. "No child of mine would be so ... so ... ill-mannered."

  "Really?" Rónán asked in mock disbelief. "And here I was thinking I was a just regular chip off the old block. Where's this old hag who wants to see me, anyway?"

  "This old hag?" Marcroy found himself having trouble keeping up.

  "The old girl who wants to talk to me. When does she get here?"

  "One is summoned by the Hag, you impudent mongrel. One does not summon her."

  "Then let's go, Dad. This 'impudent' mongrel's in a bit of a hurry, so if we could get this done with."

  "The Hag does not care about your plans."

  Even though Rónán could only move his eyes and his mouth, he still managed to convey a level of disdain that even Marcroy would have struggled to achieve. "I beg to differ," Rónán said. "I'll bet your shiny Faerie kingdom that she is very interested in my plans, and that is exactly why she wants to see me."

  Much as he might want to, Marcroy couldn't argue with his son's logic. The Hag was obviously deeply invested in what this man and his brother had in mind. She was having visions about it.

  And she was impatient. It was more than likely she already knew Rónán was here. The lesser sídhe would not hesitate to report back to the Hag ... she had no doubt set them to watching him. Prevaricating might anger her. Marcroy did not want to anger the Hag.

  "I will take you to her," he said, stepping closer, quite appalled at the prospect of embracing Rónán in order to transport him to the Hag.

  "No need for that," a voice croaked behind him.

  Marcroy jumped with fright and spun around to discover the Hag standing behind him leaning on a gnarly staff, wearing a ragged cloak. Her eyes were cloudy and, with her appearance the mist began to gather on the cliff top, cutting off the wind and replacing the darkness with an eerie white light that seemed to be emanating from everywhere and nowhere. The sounds of the night faded into nothing, all sound muffled by the white fog.

  "My lady," Marcroy said, dropping to one knee. Rónán, of course, bound in place by the magical bonds in which he was wrapped, could do nothing.

  "You may go, Marcroy," the Hag informed him unceremoniously. "I will call for you when I need you again." She waved her arm. Marcroy found himself standing on the hills overlooking Temair, surrounded by a small flock of shaggy, black-faced sheep.

  The sheep looked up from their grazing for a moment, perhaps wondering at the sudden appearance of this Tuatha Dé Danann interloper, and then went back to contentedly chewing the grass.

  Marcroy could do nothing but quietly fume at the Hag's exclusion of him from what he suspected was a pivotal moment in all their lives, perhaps significant in their very history. And then he realized there was something that required his attention.

  If he couldn't do anything about RónánDarragh, he could certainly do something about his errant niece, Trása.

  Chapter 33

  The Hag released the bonds on Ren a few moments after Marcroy disappeared. By then the mist had completely enveloped them, cutting off the outside world. He couldn't even make out the standing stones on the edge of the stone circle. The world was silent and the only two people in it were himself and the Hag.

  He turned to find the haggard, wizened old woman gone, a much taller, younger and more attractive blonde woman standing in her place. Were it not for the ragged cloak and the gnarly staff, he would never have known it was the same creature. She looked familiar, but Ren couldn't quite place who he reminded him of.

  "What did Marcroy do with Pete and Logan?"

  "Who are Pete and Logan?"

  He didn't know if she was pretending ignorance, or if she really didn't know what had happened to them. Ren wondered if Marcroy had tossed them back into the other realm. Not that he had time to worry about them now. He had the Hag to deal with first.

  "Is that your true form," Ren asked, rotating his shoulders to loosen them after the stiffness of Marcroy's magical bindings, "or do you think I'll respond better to a familiar face - even if it's one I despise?"

  The Hag laughed softly and took a step closer. "Would you be surprised if I said both?"

  Ren shook his head. "After what I've seen these past ten years, nothing surprises me."

  "You are far too young to be so jaded," she said, as she leaned on her staff with both hands and studied him. "I see much of Marcroy in you."

  "Hey ... if you're going to insult me ..."

  She chuckled again. "You have just enough human in you to counter it, I am relieved to note." She continued to study him for a long moment, then added, "And you know more than I anticipated. That is good. It means there is less I must explain."

  "Why the need to explain anything?" Ren asked as he glanced around. There was no way out of here, he guessed, until the Hag decided to let him go. No harm in looking, though.

  "Because I See the things you See."

  Ren was tempted to answer with something glib about them both having eyes, so of course they saw the same things, but he knew that wasn't what she was talking about.

  "I See nothing," he told her. "Not anymore."

  "You have found a way to bury the truth of your Sight," the Hag said, "but you have not changed the universe enough to stop it happening."

  "You don't know that," Ren accused. He didn't want to hear this. She was wrong. She had to be wrong.

  "I do know it," the Hag replied, "and no matter how much you wish to deny it, you know it too. You have the true Sight, Rónán of the Undivided, and what you See must come to pass for the good of life in this realm and every other."

  "Oh," Ren said, rolling his eyes at her simplistic view of the world. "No pressure then."

  "Why do you fight the truth of your visions?"

  "Because they suck," he said, unable to think of a more succinct way of expressing what he felt about his nightmares.

  "You don't wish to kill the children in your dream," the Hag said, nodding in understanding. "And yet you have killed how many others in your quest to prevent your dream from coming true?"

  "I only killed Empress Twins," he reminded her. "Adults. And most of them were actively engaged in killing your people, sometimes just for fun. I needed to know what they knew. Besides, what do you care? They worked for the Matrarchaí."

  "We are your people, too," she said. "You may look human, Rónán, but that is the hand of the Matrarchaí. You are more sídhe than not. More one of us, than you'd like."

  "What do you want from me?"

  "I want you to do what you have Seen."

  "I am not going to kill my brother's children. At least, I'm assuming they're Darragh's kids. Not that it matters if they're mine or his ... I'm not murdering any babies to keep you happy."

  The Hag sat herself down on a log that appeared from somewhere. Ren hadn't seen it arrive or noticed her doing anything to summon it. "The children in your vision are your brother's children, born of the Matrarchaí vessel, Brydie Ni'Seanan."

  Ren said nothing, did nothing - he hoped - to betray the fact that he knew exactly where Brydie was, and while she remained trapped in the enchanted amethyst he had hidden with Toyoda in the ninja reality, no dream about murdering anybody's babies need ever come to pass.

  "When the time comes," the Hag predicted, "you will not stay your hand."

  "And you know that because you've had a vision, I suppose."

  She nodded. "You will not need persuading."

  "You know nothing of the kind."
>
  "I know the children of that union are damned. They are the pinnacle of two thousand years of careful breeding by the Matrarchaí across bloodlines, across realities. Those children, when they are born, will be neither human nor sídhe."

  "They look pretty human to me."

  "Only because you have not, in your dream, seen what they are or can do."

  "And what if they're not the monsters you think they are?" he asked, becoming impatient with her calm confidence that he was destined to murder a couple of innocent children and apparently not lose any sleep over the right of it. "And who cares anyway? There are an infinite number of realities, aren't there? Can't you cede a few of them to the Matrarchaí and let them be?"

  "The Matrarchaí are not interested in a truce."

  "And I'm not interested in killing my brother's kids to make you happy."

  "It does not make me happy to tell you the children in your vision must die."

  "Yeah ... right ... It's breaking your heart. I can tell."

  The Hag stared at him for a moment, shaking her head. "If it meant condemning a few realities, we would surrender them readily. We are not greedy creatures, Rónán, nor particularly territorial. It is not in the nature of the sídhe to do what the Matrarchaí have done. The sídhe are an integral part of reality. Humans - and the Matrarchaí in particular - are trying to remake reality to suit themselves."

  "By making babies you don't like?"

  "Those babies have the power to force Partition." The Hag stared at him for a moment. "You have the stolen memories of many Matrarchaí. Search their thoughts and tell me - what does Partition mean to them?"

  The word sparked a rush of jumbled thoughts and memories in Ren's mind all belonging to other people.

  "The mission," Ren said, a little puzzled. As usual, unless someone triggered a word like that, it stayed buried. "Mostly they're just thinking about how important the 'mission' is, not what it is exactly."

  "This mission they speak of is one several thousand years in the making." The Hag shook her head in wonder. "I can barely conceive of the notion that one could scheme so far ahead. We sídhe are doing well if we can plan our next meal."

  "So what do they want to do? Break their reality away from the others?"

  "In a word, yes."

  "So let them. You'd be well rid of them, from what I've seen of the Matrarchaí."

  "And you would be right. Except for one tiny but pertinent detail that makes that option ... inadvisable."

  "What's that?"

  "If they achieve Partition, all the realities connected to theirs will be sucked into the implosion." She shifted on the log, as if it was not a very comfortable place to sit. "It's why the Matrarchaí are trying to eradicate the sídhe from as many realms touching theirs as possible. Realities filled with magic and no sídhe to put up a defense against the implosion will help replenish their denuded reality during the partition."

  "And then you'll be rid of them," Ren pointed out. "Given the damage is already done in a lot of cases, isn't it time to just cut your losses?"

  "That's a very human way of thinking. And it would, perhaps, be the sensible course, except for that one tiny thing I mentioned."

  "Which is?"

  "All other realities will cease to exist."

  "What?"

  She waited a moment for her words to sink in, before adding, "The Matrarchaí intend to start again. To reset the cosmos. If they don't replenish the magic in the core reality in the process, there will be no more magic in their future."

  Ren shook his head at the scope - and the absurdity - of such a plan. "That's insane."

  "Without question."

  "No ... I mean, even if you could convince yourself it's a good idea, why pick my reality? It's fucked. They've polluted it. There's a bloody great hole in the ozone layer. Global warming is cooking the planet."

  "Your world is just one of billions in that reality, Rónán. That one life form has made one planet uninhabitable with their technology, does not alter the special nature of the reality in which it resides."

  "What's so special about it?"

  "It is the first, and therefore the only one which can be sundered completely from the others. The damage to the world you speak of only makes the matter more urgent. The Matrarchaí need to Partition the reality while the planet is still habitable. With magic, they can reverse the environmental damage."

  Ren could barely grasp what she was suggesting. "But ... aren't there an infinite number of realities?"

  "So there are."

  "And you're saying the Matrarchaí is going to try to narrow that down to one?"

  "Not to a one. To the one." She frowned, creasing her brow, and for a moment Ren got a glimpse of the old woman she'd been when she first arrived. "At which point the splintering process will start over and soon there will again be an infinite number of realities - but they will be realities filled with magic the Matrarchaí can call upon at will and they will be empty of all Faerie. We will cease to exist."

  Ren said nothing. He was having trouble processing the scope of such a catastrophe. The Hag seemed to understand his difficulty. She rose to her feet and approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder, as if to comfort him. "So you see, Rónán of the Undivided, the cost of two small lives starts to gain some perspective, when the lives saved by their death cannot - quite literally - be counted."

  "You're making this up."

  "Why would I bother?" the Hag asked. She seemed amused by the suggestion. "Do you think we would concern ourselves with the affairs of humans, or even the Matrarchaí from another reality, if it were anything less than our very existence at stake?"

  Ren had known enough Tuatha Dé Danann to know she spoke the truth. They were not schemers by nature. It took too much effort. Too much focus.

  "Maybe it doesn't have to go down the way you See it," he said, as he shook off her hand, refusing to accept his destiny was so set in place he had no choice in the matter. "If those children are never born -"

  "But they will be," the Hag said. "No matter how hard you try, or how clever you think you've been, Rónán, Destiny is a sly and cunning manipulator. He will always win. You can do nothing but embrace your part in his plan and find a way to live with what he has marked you for."

  "I don't believe that."

  "Whether you believe it or not, does not alter the truth of it."

  He stared at her, wishing she'd stayed in the form of the wizened old crone, which would have made her much easier to dislike. "I can't do it."

  "You will find the courage when the time comes."

  Ren shook his head. "I won't. Because I am not going to do it."

  His refusal didn't seem to faze her at all. "Believe what you will, Rónán . Time and circumstances will force your hand. In the meantime, I will help you however I can."

  He found that hard to believe. "Even if what I want to do directly flies in the face of what you have in mind for me?"

  "Everything you do is driving you down the path Destiny wants you to travel, Rónán. Any help I give you will merely serve to expedite the inevitable."

  So you think. "Then help me rescue my brother."

  "I cannot enter a magic-less realm, Rónán, not even for the Undivided destined to save us."

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out Kiva's ruby necklace. "I need to charge these up with magic."

  The Hag seemed a little puzzled by his request. "What good will that do you?"

  "I'm going to swallow them, once they're charged. It should juice me up enough to be able to wane in and out of the prison where Darragh is trapped in the other realm."

  "And how do you intend to do this 'charge them up' thing?" she asked, still looking confused.

  "I thought soaking them in the Pool of Tranquillity would do the trick."

  The Hag took the necklace from him and held it up to examine it. Her fingers were long and elegant and unmarked by the liver spots that marred her skin when she was in the crone form. "
They are jewels, Rónán, not sponges. They will not absorb magic the way you imagine." She lowered the necklace and looked up at him. "To infuse this many rubies with the sort of magic you require - to produce such a feat in a world without magic - would take the combined power of the Brethren."

  And there you have it, Ren thought. The escape clause. What was it Pete was fond of saying? Typical Faerie - can't break a promise, but they can always find a loophole.

  "Figured there'd be a catch," he said, shaking his head, impressed it took her less than a heartbeat to find a way around helping him.

  Not that it mattered. He wasn't expecting help. Ren didn't believe her about the pool, anyway. He'd swum in it. He'd seen its affect on anything capable of wielding magic. He reached for the necklace, determined to follow through with his plan to soak the jewels in the Pool of Tranquillity.

  But before he could get a hand to it, the Hag vanished with the necklace, leaving Ren stranded in the center of a thick impenetrable mist with no way out and no way of saving anybody, least of all himself.

  Chapter 34

  One of Marcroy's greatest failings, Trása knew, was his tendency to underestimate humans. He liked them; his fascination for their women was legendary - even though he would swear he wasn't the least bit tempted by them if pressed on the subject - and he would not countenance the notion that anybody other than he should represent Orlagh in her dealings with humans and their affairs.

  And yet he scorned most sídhe-human mongrels and ignored any humans he didn't feel worthy of his attention, to the point of not even noticing they were there.

  In that, Marcroy was not alone. Most Tuatha Dé Danann princes had a similar opinion of humans and Trása found herself being very grateful for their arrogance. It meant that although she was trapped in the bower and forbidden to leave, Nika, the young human Merlin, who Marcroy and Stiofán barely acknowledged, could come and go from Tír Na nÓg as she pleased.