“We have heard your words,” the Queen said finally, with an expression that suggested that she had heard it all before and it had bored her the first time. She probably had. I wasn't the first Guardian to go into a Faerie Mound and plead the case of a missing child. We didn’t know just how Faerie politics worked, but we knew that this Queen was high in their hierarchy. If she decided that Cecelia was to be returned, she would be returned. If…
The Queen turned her face towards Aylia. Aylia didn’t quite get back on her hands and knees and grovel, but for a moment, she looked as if she would very much like to surrender her will to the Queen. I felt a flicker of pride as she remained in her place, barely looking at the Queen, even though it was her first time in a Mound. I wouldn’t have blamed her for collapsing under the weight of the Queen’s regard.
I was right, I thought, with a small amount of amusement. She does have Guardian potential.
“And you have been given the Stone of Eternal Beauty,” the Queen said, her voice suddenly flat and expressionless. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Her face had become a smiling mask. “Do you feel that you are worthy of the stone?”
Aylia’s voice was calm, but I could hear the stress underneath. “I do not feel worthy to wear it,” she said. Her voice almost broke as the Queen seemed to loom closer. I prayed silently that she wouldn’t try to trade it for her sister. The Faerie Code stipulated that any trade had to be between items of equal value and they weren't equal. Overpaying was just as insulting as underpaying. “I may never wear it in my life.”
The Queen – oddly – seemed satisfied with that answer. I didn’t understand why. Was it possible, I wondered, that the Queen was jealous? She might have appeared as the most beautiful woman in all of existence, but might even she had some insecurities? Or, perhaps, did she want the Beauty Stone for herself? What would it do for a Faerie Queen?
I pushed that thought aside as well, quickly. The Queen didn’t look human and ascribing human motives to her might prove – at best – futile. We were far closer to the dragons, despite their strange nature…and dragons, in any case, didn’t play with their food. Their warning, I felt, had been honestly meant, even if it had been enigmatic. The Faerie would pull the wings off flies just to watch them suffer.
“A wise answer,” the Queen said, finally. There was an undeniable mental impression of her patting Aylia on the head. “What brings you to Our Court?”
Aylia composed herself before speaking. “Your Majesty, some of your people have taken my sister from my house,” she said. “We have come to plead for her return, unharmed.”
“We harm no creatures,” the Queen said, flatly. From her point of view, it was even true; they didn’t see it as harm. They might have taken Cecilia as an experimental subject, or as company for one of the Faerie Ladies, or maybe even to raise her to help them to rule the Faerie Courts. There were odd stories, never confirmed, that some of the Faerie rulers were actually human. The Faerie might have loved the pageantry of Royal Courts, but they disliked the hard work of governance. I didn’t believe the stories, although I would have liked to think that humans could end up ruling the Faerie; there was nothing human in the entity facing me.
But then, no Queen ever admitted the existence of other Queens, or even other Mounds. The Mound might as well be a completely independent political entity, as far as they would admit to any mere human, but they did have a hierarchy of sorts. It was just a subject upon which they would never be drawn. They also wouldn’t talk about the Forsaken – to hear them talk, you’d think that they were back home, not in exile – or God. It was just another mystery surrounding the strange and dangerous creatures.
Aylia let out a tiny gasp. “Your Majesty,” she said, “please will you return her unchanged?”
The Queen seemed – although she didn’t move – to sit back and stroke her chin. Her expression kept changing, but as we watched, it seemed to settle – finally – on a very cruel face. I had thought that the guards we had encountered just inside the Mound had looked cruel, but this was worse. I knew – somehow - that she was contemplating giving Aylia what she wanted, in the certain knowledge that it would be the best way to hurt her and her family. What did Vincent Faye and his billions mean to the Faerie?
“We could answer your question,” the Queen said finally. Her face flickered again, becoming cunning and even contemplative. “What would you do for us in exchange?”
I knew what was about to happen a second before it did, but I was helpless to intervene. “Anything,” Aylia said, quickly. “Just return my sister…”
The world shifted around us and we were standing in a small sealed chamber. “I’ve fucked up,” she said, before I could say anything. The Queen had banished us until she was ready to make her demand. “Glass, I’m sorry, but if they give me back my sister…”
“That wasn’t what she offered,” I snapped, harshly. The Faerie would keep any bargain they made; in fact, they would insist on keeping it, even if we no longer wanted them to keep it. If they had offered Cecilia’s safe return in exchange for whatever the Queen wanted, they would have been bound to return her, whatever happened to us. “They promised to answer your question, remember?”
I ignored the look of horror that passed across her face and started to pace the room. I didn’t know what the Queen might want, but I doubted that it would be anything as simple – or safe – as cleaning out the entire Mound. We were completely in her power and, thanks to Aylia, she had a claim on us. It wasn't a complete claim – we weren’t her puppets – but she could have her fun with us before completing her side of the bargain. She hadn’t even said when she would complete her side of the bargain. She could keep Aylia in suspense for years.
“I’m sorry,” Aylia said, finally. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Never mind,” I said, pushing down the rage that threatened to overwhelm me. The only reason the Faerie hadn’t moved at once to demanding something else in exchange was that they wanted us to tear each other apart first. It would only provide them more amusement for their sick games. “Just concentrate on remaining alive in this place, understand?”
A moment later, the world shifted around us again and we were somewhere else.
Chapter Thirteen
Hail Caesar! We who are about to die salute you!
-Roman Gladiators, before engaging in combat
I was standing on a sandy floor, surrounded by a stone stadium. It took me a moment to place it and when I did, I almost smiled. The Faerie had taken it right out of my early childhood memories of reading Asterix comic books. It was a Roman arena, populated by thousands of Roman citizens, but when I looked at them my eyes slid over them and refused to focus. The Faerie had turned out in force to watch the event. I looked around, trying to find Aylia, but there was no sign of her. She could be anywhere.
A cold gust of wind blew across the arena, stirring the sand slightly before it settled back down to the ground, sending a chill running down my back. I looked down at myself and swore inwardly. I was dressed as a barbarian hero from one of the old storybooks, complete with a total lack of anything reassembling actual protection. It was hard for me to be sure, but I think I was He-Man, with pretty much everything I had on display. He-Man and the others of his kind could wear their armour because they had nothing to be ashamed of about their bodies, but I didn’t like it at all. My six-pack might not have become a keg – well, not yet – but I wasn't suited to the armour. The spectators gave vent to a mixture of cheers and boos, some of them cheering me, others cheering the thought of seeing an imprudent human being rendered down to paste. Whatever they wanted me to fight, I decided, they’d better give me a weapon. I seemed to be without anything to actually fight with…
I looked back at the lower ranks of spectators and scowled as their lines seemed to expand endlessly into the distance. It was impossible to know for sure, but it looked as if the entire population of the Mound had turned out for the show, either because they wanted
to see it or because the Queen had summoned them to attend. The main body of spectators were clearly Faerie – I concentrated on not looking too closely at them, not when the presence of so many could bring nausea and death – but there were also humans, their eyes dull and lifeless, and hundreds of other creatures. I saw a centaur standing next to a troll, both of them staring at me with unreadable expressions, while a werewolf lay down beside them. I couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked as if they were prisoners too, deep within the Mound. The Faerie cared so little for other life forms that it was quite possible.
A shadow fell over the arena and I looked up as something drifted past high overhead. At first, I thought it was a dragon, and then I saw the bird-like mouth and furry flanks. The griffin settled down at one end of the arena, watching me with unblinking beady eyes, and then gave me a very clear wink. Griffins are more sociable than dragons, at least when it comes to their own kind, but they prefer to stay away from humanity. I didn’t blame them. There are all kinds of things an unprincipled wizard could do with griffin skin. There were even people who used it as a very expensive carpet. A moment later, a second darker shadow fell over me…and I saw a massive bat-like creature. It reminded me more of the Faerie than the dragons; the more I looked into it, the less I was actually sure. It was a giant black shadow of a bat, little else. I couldn’t see any eyes, but I was sure that it was looking at me, watching and waiting. I half-wished that a dragon had come – dragons, at least, didn’t hate humanity just for being human – but there was no sign of one. That didn’t mean that they weren't present.
Trumpets blew and the Royal Box was suddenly there. It was right in front of me, but the magic in the arena was so warped that I was sure that it was right in front of everyone else as well. The Queen was showing off her power and control. Not to me, not to a mere human, but to the rest of her Court. The show she was providing for them might have its amusements, but that wasn't the real point. She wanted to show them all that she was in control.
The Faerie instantly prostrated themselves before her. I went down on one kneel, concealing my smile with an effort. Watching them humbling themselves, even before one of their own, was amusing and surprisingly gratifying. I averted my eyes from the Queen, even though she wasn’t trying to overpower me with her presence, and saw Aylia sitting next to the Queen in the Royal Box. She looked sick, as if she was going to throw up at any moment, and caught my eyes. The Queen hadn’t stripped her, but somehow she looked naked…and helpless.
“MY PEOPLE,” the Queen boomed. There was something overwhelmingly powerful in her voice. She meant what she said with no degree of irony. They were hers, in a very personal way, until she was overthrown, somehow. I couldn’t understand how a halfway competent Queen could be overthrown, but there was so much about the Faerie that we didn’t know. “WE HAVE BEFORE US THE HUMAN WHO WILL RID US OF THE…”
My mind winced. She’d said a word that sounded like glass shattering. I stumbled and almost fell, despite my best efforts. Showing weakness in the arena would be fatal. I didn’t believe that the Queen wanted me to rid her of something, either. What could be in the Mound and yet be unaffected by her power? A live dragon? We didn’t even know if the dragons would be affected by the Faerie…but then, I had been warned to look to the children of magic. Might it have meant the Faerie instead of Vincent Faye’s children?
“HE STANDS NOW BEFORE US,” the Queen said, in a voice like thunder. “GIVE HIM DUE HONOUR, BY ROYAL COMMAND!”
The Faerie rose and applauded, loudly. It wasn't for me. The Faerie Queen was taking the opportunity to humiliate her subjects by forcing them to applaud for a mere human. I could sense the tangled waves of resentment and submission washing across the arena, the flickers of rage and anger at what she was doing to them, yet they had no choice, but to obey.
“AND NOW,” the Queen said, “SHOULD WE GIVE HIM A WEAPON?”
She was looking at Aylia as she spoke. I could barely hear her voice under the sheer pressure of the Queen’s presence, but I saw her nod. The Queen gave her a smile that seemed to imply that she’d just made a second mistake, but instead of snatching her up and carrying her off to her lair, she held up…something in her hand and threw it to me.
“GIVEN FREELY AND WITHOUT OBLIGATION,” the Queen informed us. I caught the weapon perfectly. “PERPARE YOURSELF TO FACE YOUR FOE!”
The weapon was vague in my hand. It was as if I was holding a snake, one that was constantly changing its form. Even looking at it was hard; it didn’t seem to have a single fixed appearance, but a multitude of possible forms. It went from a stick to a sword, to a scimitar, to a dagger, and then back to a staff. I felt a touch of awe as I held it, concentrating as best as I could; we’d heard tales about supernatural weapons. If the Queen had meant what she had said, it was mine…and it could kill Faerie.
I held it and concentrated until it became a sword. I knew better than to take my mind off it; the sword would quite happily shift form if I allowed it to change. I suspected that it was as much a reflection of the bearer’s will and intent as anything else, but I had no time to practice. There had to be a way to lock it in one form, but what? It was more of a liability, at the moment, than anything else.
An elf at the far end of the arena moved towards a pair of massive doors. He wasn't perfect, unlike the other Faerie; he moved as if he had been badly wounded, his features cut up by something that had locked the wounds into his magical form. There was no way to know what his story actually was, but I found that I liked him on sight. His wounds reminded me of the scars covering my own body. His limps finally led him to the doors and he touched them. They opened at once. A moment later, he flew in the air and was snapped in half by…something.
Shit, I thought. There was nothing there – nothing I could see – but something had killed the elf. I looked at the falling parts of his body, seeing hints that the elf had been sliced in half rather than bitten in two – nothing seemed to have been eaten – but it was so hard to tell for sure. The elf was bleeding golden drops of blood. As I watched, the remains of his body faded and vanished. Had I just seen an elf die?
The invisible creature advanced with great heavy footsteps. I could hear the sounds of something much bigger than me breathing steadily, without hurry, but I couldn’t see anything. It wasn't like seeing one of the Faerie, with my perceptions unable to comprehend what I was really seeing, but something else, something strange and unearthly. I caught a whiff of its breath and recoiled. It smelt as if it had been eating raw meat and drinking blood…and, knowing the Faerie, perhaps it had. Whatever they had sent against me, it would be powerful…
But not unbeatable; it wouldn’t be unbeatable. The Faerie Code was clear on that point, as we understood it. The Queen could – and probably had – stack the deck as much as she liked, but there had to be a chance to win. They’d given me a weapon that could kill magical creatures, but it was useless without something to strike at, wasn't it? I felt something moving and leapt backwards, just before something lashed just past my nose. If I had stayed there for a moment longer, I would have been ripped apart. It would probably have torn my trenchcoat. Score one for the He-Man outfit.
I lashed back with the sword, but felt no connection, no hint that I’d hit something. There was a strange sound, almost like a child trying to be angry, and then it took another swing at me. This time, it was so close that I felt the heat of its body on my skin. It was toying with me, I realised, and felt a hot flare of anger. Just because I couldn’t use my magic didn’t make me helpless. I concentrated on the weapon, made it become a spear, and lunged forward. It didn’t touch anything, as far as I could tell, but the sound of something hitting the ground suggested that it, too, had leapt backwards. Perhaps it would take me more seriously in future, or perhaps it would just move now to finish me off. It wasn't just a fight, but a puzzle, one I had to solve. What was the damned creature’s weakness?
The weapon seemed to shift in my hand as my thoughts drifted away fro
m it and I smiled. I wasn't dependent on the weapon being a weapon, was I? It was limited only by my imagination. I thought of Green Lantern, a modern legend, and smiled again. I had the answer. I moved backwards as the area shifted around me. It wasn't as if I was in a real arena. No matter how much I ran, there would always be space to run into…and there would be no escape. I concentrated as I moved, focusing on the weapon, and it became a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles. I ignored their appearance – it had come out of my mind, somehow – and pushed them into my nose. The creature was right in front of me.
My first thought was that I was looking at a troll, and then I saw the light of intelligence, however dim and faded, in its eyes. It was a shambling parody of humankind, but where the troll I’d seen in Norway had been born to be a troll, this one knew what it had once been. It was taller than me, but it walked with a hunch, reaching out for me with massive hands that had become claws. I don’t know how, but I knew that the creature had once been human…and the Faerie had turned it into a monster. They’d taken a living breathing human being, warped him in their playing grounds and then used him as an entertainment. Invisible, it was a formidable threat; visible, I could deal with it.
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