The Riven Wyrde Saga boxed set

by Graham Austin-King

  “Ylsriss,” he said, not turning away from Devin.

  “You sicken me. You know that? You say you hate the fae but then you’re the first to lie down with one as soon as an opportunity affords itself.” She was past hearing him, lost in an orgy of hate and vitriol. “You’re as bad as the fae themselves. They creep into our world to steal children to raise for the breeding pens. You stole me and, in doing so, you stole my baby.”

  “Ylsriss!” he repeated, louder this time.

  “What!” she snapped.

  “Look at him.”

  “What?” The request was so outlandish that she couldn’t understand the sentence.

  “Devin. Look at him!” Joran pointed.

  “Stop trying to change the subject. You wanted to talk about this, so let’s talk about it.” She stood again, clenching her fists by her side. “You can’t ask me to forgive this, Joran, this is too huge. You’ve forced me to abandon my child!”

  “Ylsriss, just shut up a second. Look at him!” Joran stepped closer, placed his hands on her face and turned her head towards Devin.

  She batted his hands away. “What are you talking about? He’s practising. It’s like a dance or something. Some ritual that kept the fae away, or something like that.”

  “Look at the way he moves his feet. Look at the whole picture.”

  She fell silent. The urgency in Joran’s voice had robbed her of her anger and she watched Devin. There was something there, right on the edge of her understanding. The movements he made were clumsy, but the pattern...

  “Oh, Lords of Blood, Sea and Sky!” Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped a breath in through her fingers.

  “You see it, don’t you?” Joran asked, eyes bright with excitement.

  “I see it,” she nodded. “Joran, this ritual, the pattern of it...”

  “I know.” His grin matched the wonder in his eyes.

  “Joran, those are glyphs!”

  Acknowledgements

  Once again I owe a debt of gratitude to the team that helped put this book together. Clare Davidson, Anya J Davis and Vin Hill you guys are great. To my wife Gillian and my kids, thanks for putting up with me while my head was in a book (I kind of did it again didn't I?) Finally a big thanks to everyone who bought Fae – The Wild Hunt and got in touch, or left a review. Your support is more valuable than you know.

  Fae – The Sins of the Wyrde

  by Graham Austin-King

  Fae - The Sins of the Wyrde: Contents

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Part Two

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Part Three

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Part Four

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  For Liam, Naomi and Matthew.

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Miriam moved mechanically, trudging as she pulled a foot free of the sucking mud, and took another step. There had been many times when the smothering touch of the fae’s mind had put her into a stupor, but this time her daze was caused by exhaustion. Her feet faltered in the oozing mud created by the passage of hundreds of satyr and the human slaves that followed, and the muscles in her legs burned.

  The group of fae, satyr, and fae’reeth had been following Aelthen for days, travelling the ancient trails and paths as they headed away from Tir Rhu’thin, moving southward. They paid little attention to the needs of their human attendants, barely seeming to stop during the day for food, or to rest. The satyr rushed out to hunt after they stopped each day, and the sounds of their feasting and drinking carried on late into the night as she sought what sleep she could.

  Miriam stumbled as her foot caught on a rock, her black robes flapping wet around her ankles as she sought to regain her balance. The leather cuff dug painfully into the skin of one wrist as the spun-silver chain grew taut and Ileriel glared back at her as she hurried to catch up with the fae’s mount.

  Ileriel had always laid only the barest touch of her influence over Miriam. It was as if she wanted Miriam to be fully aware of where she was and the torment she was enduring daily. Even after all these years the fae seemed to delight in her misery and in the bargain Miriam had made, taking pleasure from the fact that Miriam had unwittingly invited this life. Of late, her influence seemed to have been lighter still. Perhaps she simply wasn’t worth the exertion of the fae’s yoke any longer? Perhaps Ileriel simply no longer cared. After all, she was no longer necessary for the fae to pierce the Wyrde. She was too old now to breed from. What use was she? The thought gave her pause and she stopped in the track without paying attention.

  “Keep up, human!” the fae spat back at her, pulling hard on the chain so that Miriam had to struggle to keep from falling.

  Miriam flushed and tried to ignore the childish giggles that rose from the satyr around her. More than anything else in this nightmare world, they terrified her. She could cope with the other horrors she had been forced to endure, the half-breed children that had been pulled from her, and the thousand other daily torments. The satyr, however, filled her with dread.

  More than once she’d thought of killing herself, ending it all. At once an image flashed into her mind, of her surrounded by a crowd of satyr in the woods as one of them forced himself between her legs. She looked up sharply and met Ileriel’s eyes defiantly as the fae looked back at her. The unspoken promise was as clear as it had ever been. Death was hers to choose should she wish it but it would come at the hands of the satyr once they had tired of her, not from her own.

  She glanced around, avoiding the scathing eyes of the other humans in the group. The trees were different here. They were clearly getting closer to their destination but, unlike Tir Rhu’thin where the trees were sculpted and shaped by the will of the fae, these were somehow wilder. It was a subtle difference and it had taken Miriam some time to notice it. The sculpting was by no means lesser, it was just less pronounced. As if the design were more in tune with nature, celebrating the wildness of the environment rather than it being twisted for the sculptor's own delight.

  The trail led down a gentle slope as they crested the rise, and she enjoyed the respite until the different set of muscles began to burn. Abruptly Ileriel stopped ahead of her and the line slowly drew to a halt. Humans would have questioned it by now, or made some protest at the sudden halt, but the fae simply waited in silence as their human slaves shifted and fidgeted beside them. She could feel Aelthen ahead of them, further along the trail. He was far out of sight around a corner but even from this distance his presence was palpable. The sheer weight of his mind was a sensation pressing against her. It challenged her. Diminishing her as it questioned her right to breathe, to exist, even as it demanded that she wonder at his glory.

  The stop was both long and yet somehow still short enough to be cruel. Her muscles protested violently as they began moving again and she hurried along behind the white horse Ileriel rode. It was a glamour, of course. A conceit. No horses existed in the Realm of Twilight, not that she had ever seen. The beast was most likely a shade-cat, concealed beneath the casual magic of the fae’s illusion.

  The trees parted abruptly with none of the gradual thinning that would be found in Ha
ven, her own world. They passed out onto a lush plain, an island of grasses in the ocean that was the endless forest. For all her years in this world of the fae, this was the first time she had ever been beyond the trees. The place felt suddenly wondrous and alien to her all over again. The empty sky screamed down at her and she fought back a wave of fear and the urge to huddle down like a mouse hiding from a hawk.

  It was hours before the city came into sight, though doubtless the fae had been able to see it long before her. It sprawled, spreading out in a ragged circle from the titanic tree at its centre, visible even at this distance. Unlike Tir Rhu’thin the city had clearly been surrounded by a high wall at one point but the buildings had long since spread beyond its protection. Beyond the walls, what seemed to be farmed fields stretched out towards the distant trees on either side of the city.

  The differences between this place and Tir Rhu’thin did not stop there. The homes and buildings here were more fashioned stone than the tree homes she was used to and the streets were paved and laid out with a clear structure. Tir Rhu’thin ambled. It reached out from its centre in a languorous stretch with buildings and dwellings laying where they would, with no thought given to order, or at least none that she had ever understood.

  Her eyes were wide with wonder as they moved towards this new fae city and her gaze passed along the long line of fae, past Aelthen at its head, and back towards the enormous tree.

  The tree was normal enough, save for its massive size. If it weren’t for the city surrounding it the sight would have been nothing to raise an eyebrow. As it was the buildings gave her some perspective and the sheer size of it was enough to take her breath away. The uppermost branches and much of the leaves were obscured by a mist, or haze of some kind, and she squinted as she tried to focus on the fog that seemed to swirl and shift slowly about the tree.

  The effort made her eyes water and her head ache. She soon gave up and looked down the slight hill, following the line of fae towards Aelthen, far ahead of them. She watched as he approached a small group that had emerged from the city and stood waiting on the path to greet them. They were largely satyr by the looks of things, with only a single fae among them. Her eyes widened in shock as the great creature bent a foreleg to incline his head in a stately bow as he approached the group. Whatever it was that Aelthen wanted here it was clear he didn’t hold himself as superior.

  “Come, my prize.” Ileriel urged her forward, pulling her out of the line so they could move more swiftly. “I’ll not sit with the pack whilst Aelthen enters the court.”

  She ran awkwardly, her old joints working as fast as they could with a lurching, painful, gait. Ileriel glanced down at her, giving her a look of utter disgust at her pace, and then reached out to haul her up, laying her over the horse’s rump like a sack of meal. The texture of the beast’s skin did not feel like horse. The motion was somehow more sinuous than any horse would ever manage but, in her position, it still jolted and forced the breath from her lungs. She forced herself to try and relax as she gripped at its flanks with her hanging arms as Ileriel rode at a canter to the head of the column.

  Miriam was vaguely aware they had passed under a large archway into the city but her position made it difficult to see much beyond the flagstones that made up the path even after Ileriel dropped the horse back into a walk. A buzz filled the city, laying beneath the musical sound of the fae as they spoke. It was a low drone and Miriam had a fleeting mental image of the bees she had once seen kept in hives by a long forgotten uncle. She mentally shook her head at the memory and slid off the horse and down to her feet as they drew to a halt.

  The plaza was wide and surrounded by columns with intricate carvings, though all showed signs of age and weathering. Miriam stood in silence and watched curiously as Aelthen followed his escort and stepped forward, accompanied by Ileriel and a handful of his fae. A small group waited for him in the centre of the plaza. Fae with a handful of satyr and fae’reeth that surrounded a tall, pale figure.

  Aelthen stopped just short of the group and offered a short bow. The tall figure stepped forward out of the cluster surrounding her, gossamer clothing trailing behind her, and revealing a fae woman of incredible beauty. Miriam stared at her openly as she felt her mouth fall open. It wasn’t just at her beautify, albeit a cold alien beauty. The woman filled the plaza, the sheer presence of her was overwhelming. She commanded the eye in much the same way as Aelthen always had, but it went far beyond her appearance. Her mind pressed against all that stood within the plaza, a raging force that touched the edges of Miriam's consciousness and seemed just barely contained.

  “After all the long ages the hunters have returned at last,” the fae intoned. Her voice was little more than a whisper yet somehow seemed loud enough to shake the leaves from the closest trees. “Among all of those that remain in Tira Scyon I am among only a handful who might have known those old enough to remember the last days of the hunt. I was a babe at the time. You are as tale or song come to life. You are myth made flesh and you will find things much changed in these lands, I think. I would be the first to bid you welcome anyway. I am named Tauntha. Welcome to Tira Scyon, the last home of the fae.”

  Miriam ignored Aelthen as he made some formal reply and frowned as she looked at the fae woman. There was something not quite right about her. Her eyes refused to entirely accept what they were seeing. There were minute eddies and disturbances in her form, she realised, as if her perfect features were somehow formed of a mist surrounding a hidden truth. She narrowed her eyes as she concentrated, and then, as if she had blown into a fog, the image parted and for the briefest moment, Miriam caught a glimpse of the ancient and wizened creature at its centre. She gaped at the sight and staggered as Ileriel jerked the silver chain, pulling her forward even as the ancient creature paused in what she was saying to look at Miriam curiously.

  “…my favoured daughter, Ileriel, the Pathfinder,” Aelthen was saying as they drew closer. Miriam ground her teeth as another sharp jerk on the chain forced her down to her knees by Ileriel’s feet as the fae gave a short bow. “Be welcome also, Ileriel,” the woman greeted her. “And this creature? A manling she? The first I have seen, I will confess.”

  “A trophy, Revered Elder,” Ileriel replied with pride shining in her eyes. “This human is the Wyrde Reaver. Were it not for her we should still be locked away within the Outside.” She favoured Miriam with a cruel smile. The old woman shrank away from her expression as thoughts of Devin and her betrayal bombarded her, cutting like jagged glass. She bit back tears as she fought to keep the emotions from showing on her face. So long as Ileriel wished to torment her with these thoughts she must leave Miriam’s mind free to react to them and the pain was a price she was willing to pay. Despite that, Miriam would sooner claw out her own eyes before gave the fae the satisfaction of knowing what effect her words really had.

  Across the plaza a fae hissed, a sharp intake of breath to cover her obvious anger as she glared at Ileriel with fury clear on her face. The Elder turned at the sound and beckoned her forward.

  “My own daughter, Aervern,” she said by way of introduction.

  Ileriel looked at the newcomer, a frank appraisal clear in her eyes. “Were you admiring my pet, Aervern?” Ileriel asked. “Or was your little squeak intended to mean something more?”

  “Your time in the Outside must have blunted your mind as well as your tongue, Ileriel,” Aervern spat. “Tauntha rules here. Over fae, fae’reeth, and satyr. She is no mere Elder. You owe her your respect.”

  “Aervern, be still.” Tauntha muttered, her voice was pitched low but the tone was hard and sharp enough to carry.

  “There is much that will have changed, much that must still be discussed. Make amends for your rudeness.” Aelthen said, half-turning to Ileriel. His words were ostensibly a rebuke but they held none of the harshness that Tauntha’s had and Miriam caught the warmth of approval in his tone.

  Ileriel bowed her head in acknowledgement and turned to the still-se
ething fae. “My apologies, Aervern,” Ileriel offered. “Perhaps if I present you with a gift to atone for my thoughtless words?”

  Aervern’s eyes narrowed at that. “What do you offer?”

  Ileriel tugged sharply on the chain, pulling Miriam forward on her knees. “I have had little opportunity to amass trinkets but perhaps you would take some small pleasure in my trophy?”

  Aervern glanced at Miriam, eyes narrowing as she weighed the value of the gift. “I thank you,” she managed to grate, though her eyes told a different tale entirely.

  Ileriel passed the silver chain across as Aervern drew closer and, as she did so, a wave of emotion passed through Miriam. She had thought herself relatively free of the crushing influence of the fae but, as Ileriel relinquished her hold, the rush was almost enough to overwhelm her. She stood, half-stunned, as the conversation carried on about her. Tauntha and Aelthen were still speaking. She was dimly aware of plans for a great feast but her mind churned and spun too furiously for her to pay much attention. She walked blindly as she was led to the far side of the plaza and hardly noticed when she was eventually ushered away.

  Aervern walked her through the streets to a shining stone courtyard surrounded by columns. Over-hanging archways and trellises, bedecked with ivy and creeping flowers, stood beside a strangely shaped stone building that was almost swallowed by a stand of tall trees. It was as alien a dwelling as any she’d seen, and it was only her years in the world of the fae that allowed her to understand that the trees were as much a part of the building as the stone was.

  “You will reside here, as my guest for a time,” Aervern spoke softly, eyes still appraising her as she headed towards a corner of the plaza.