“I must leave you for a time.” Aervern spoked suddenly as she collected herself and looked at the old woman. “I will return in good time to collect you for the hunt. I will have to bring you on this. I wish it were not so but Ileriel gives us little choice.” She gave a short bow of farewell, apparently forgetting herself so thoroughly that she bowed to an almost-slave. Miriam stared after her in silence before turning to make her way back to Aervern’s home.
Chapter Four
The moon climbed into the cloudless sky, cresting the trees slowly, and ignorant of the dread it brought along with it. It spilled out over Miriam, carried along by the silvery light, and then it gnawed at her. The courtyard was silent as she waited and the windows of the house watched her, dark and soulless.
She waited. Aervern had not returned even as the twilight faded into true night, but still she waited. She knew it could not be long. The moon was still rising but the horns did not wait. The first call, long and mournful, sounded as soon as the lowest edge of the fae’s silvery goddess no longer reached down to touch the trees. Other horns rose to join with the first. To them it probably sounded glorious and jubilant but to Miriam it sounded a death knell. A call to butchery.
Aervern appeared without ceremony, passing through the archway into the courtyard and reaching out to take Miriam’s arm as she drew close. The silvery cord that she fashioned was just a glamour, Miriam knew this, but it was identical to the one Ileriel had chained her with. She raised an eyebrow at Aervern and lifted her arm experimentally, testing the weight though there was nothing to feel but a cool, mist-like touch on her skin.
“Ileriel has me bound by her expectation but she cannot force me to become her, no matter how much she forces me to appear as if she has. So long as we two know the difference, that is enough.” The fae ignored Miriam’s questioning look. “It is a glamour only. Do not stray far from my side or we will be undone.”
Miriam followed as the fae began the walk towards the distant tree at the centre of the city. The chain hung between them, weightless but yet heavy with implication. She ran a hand through it, the silvery links of the chain passed through the flesh of her fingers as if they were no more than fog themselves. Aervern glanced back at her, perhaps feeling her actions. She was intent on not treating Miriam as a slave, as less than her, yet they walked together towards a hunt that would see the fae chasing down humans like rabbits. The notion was ridiculous and the long bone knives strapped to Aervern’s back muddied the waters further still. Miriam was close to giving up on her attempts to understand her but the questions refused to still in her mind, and she worried at them as they drew closer to the tree.
The central square was packed, fae creatures of every colour and size were pressed in. Miriam shivered under the weight of the eyes that fell upon her. Free of Ileriel’s influence she realised for the first time that she truly was a trophy. She shifted closer to Aervern and looked down at her feet, avoiding the eyes around her.
Those closest to Aelthen sat astride pale white horses, waiting in silence. Aelthen stood at the tree itself, a hand pressed to the trunk as fae’reeth beyond count swirled around the branches above him. The moonlight played over him as he stepped out from the shadows, his fae and satyr parting to make way for him.
A human would have spoken. He would have given a speech or said some words to mark the event. Even as she realised that Aelthen had no intention of speaking she recognised what a human thing it was to do. They all knew why they had gathered. Why speak about it?
He stopped, raising his face to the moonlight as he drank in the power, and then lifted a hand, palm upraised, as the Lady’s Grace rushed out of him. It began as more of a sensation than a spectacle. A chill swirled around her feet as if a cold tide had rushed in. Miriam looked down between the press of feet and saw the first tendrils become thick coils as the mist began to form, motes of light dancing inside the shifting grey mass. He lifted his palm upwards and then stepped up onto the ever-thickening blanket of mist. With one hand he beckoned, calling the fae to follow as he charged upwards into the sky.
Miriam kept close to Aervern as the packed fae surged forward. Huntmaster, Tauntha had called him and, as he led the pack, he did, indeed, look glorious. His antlers shone in the light and his powerful form was a challenge to all that beheld him. Miriam pinched herself and muttered a curse at the pain. It wasn’t that she was falling under the fae’s influence at all. He simply was just a magnificent sight.
Those on horseback easily outpaced the others until they stepped up onto the mist. It swept them along behind Aelthen and Miriam found that she easily kept up with those in front. On an impulse she stopped moving altogether and yet somehow was still beside Aervern. It didn’t matter if she ran or not. She laughed out loud at the pure vanity of the creatures. The shining armour, the galloping horses, all of it was fuel for their incredible egotism.
The host rose above the trees, turning in a broad spiral as they climbed. Miriam looked back and watched as the Swarm rose from their tree, Variska shining at their centre as if they’d somehow stolen a piece of the moon. The fae’reeth needed no help from Aelthen to take flight and they flew to one side of the trailing mist, keeping level with the head of the column as they flew towards the farthest edges of the city.
They swept out over the fields, empty now of the satyr that tended them, and passed over the forests, leaving the city far behind. Aervern’s eyes were wide with shock and wonder as she looked behind them, and then up to the head of the column and the antlered figure that led them. Miriam followed her gaze. Thousands of fae and satyr were running in this hunt. Did the creature know no limits? How much power and effort was this taking? He certainly showed no sign of strain. Another facade, she realised. If he could have lifted the fae so easily why would they have trekked all the way from Tir Rhu’thin? No, Aelthen was not without limits. He was expending the power he’d hoarded during their journey to Tira Scyon. This jaunt was designed to gather fae to his banner but it was not without its cost.
She looked down at the trees beneath them. The sight was dizzying but her stomach was already roiling and focusing on something solid seemed to help for a little while. The moonlight was bright enough for her to see down into the forest clearly and dark shadows moved and shifted with them, seeming to course after the host as it flew.
They were not headed for Tir Rhu’thin, that much she was certain of. After spending so much time with Aervern it was easy to forget that the Returned were not strangers to this land, just to the land it had become.
After a time the trees began to thin and, as she looked down again, she saw the shadows moving once more. The moonlight caught on something, and then again, and as the thin clouds parted the bright light was reflected on something with numbers beyond counting. The host surged overhead as she stared down at them and suddenly she realised they were eyes she was seeing. Endless pairs of amber eyes, glaring up at them in the moonlight. She caught at Aervern’s sleeve but the look on her face showed she’d already seen.
“This is where they flee to.” Aervern explained sadly as she leaned close to Miriam’s ear. “When we drive the satyr from Tira Scyon this must where they much gather.”
“Lords and Ladies, there must be tens of thousands of them.” Miriam gasped. The forest parted ahead of them and as they drew closer Miriam finally realised the sheer scope of the numbers. The clearing was packed to overflowing with satyr, pressed shoulder to shoulder as they glared up at the fae. The laughter of the fae fell silent as more and more of the host saw what lay beneath them, and then knives were bared and thrust skyward as the satyr screamed out, hurling their hate at the sky and the fae that had rejected them.
Aelthen did not spare them a glance but urged them onward, galloping at the head of the host. He charged ahead, outdistancing the others and reared suddenly, stabbing a hand down towards the earth. The stone ring was smaller than the others Miriam had seen but Aelthen raced down towards it, green mist already rising from his a
rms as he reached for the central monoliths.
The cold was as bitter as she remembered it as they moved through the stones into the darkness. It clawed at her, scouring her skin as her lungs threatened to burst. To breathe in here would bring unending agony. Ileriel had warned her of that. Only the living could pass through the stones. Those who fell in here were too close to death to escape or to pass on. They would remain, lost in the darkness with only their agony for company but denied the final release.
They charged through the featureless darkness, passing into another place and touching onto an expanse of lifeless grey stone before moving into the darkness again. She had almost convinced herself that this place existed only in her nightmares. Tangled memories twisted in her head as recoiled from them. And then they were out, pushing through the stone into the warmth of the night as the same moon looked down onto a different world.
Miriam sagged, and would have fallen, if Aervern hadn’t caught her. It was all very well being able to walk on her own but when she had been brought through on Ileriel’s horse at least she had been able to collapse over the animal.
Around her, wildfae shook off the frost and ice that clung to clothing and hair as they recovered. Most ignored it, their elation too bright to be dulled by mere ice. A blast of a horn called them onwards and Aelthen lifted them into the air once more, his skin sparking with fresh power under the light of the moon. The night was chill but Miriam barely noticed. The differences were slight in the darkness but looking up she could see the stars. This was her world. This was Haven. She was home.
The fae climbed until it seemed they must reach the clouds and the vista opened up beneath them. Lights in the distance drew closer as they skirted a fishing village and Miriam marvelled at the sight of the moonlight dancing on the waves. A small town was next as they traversed the skies. As, what must surely be a city, grew before them Aelthen’s voice sounded in her ears, clear despite the rush of wind and the clamour of the fae. “See how our wayward servants have spread? How their rude settlements litter this land as they themselves spawn and defile it? This was to be our land. The Lady herself promised it to us and yet these manlings have stolen it away. All this shall be reclaimed. All this we shall purge!”
He turned sharply, banking away from the lights of the city on the horizon and driving the host down towards a farming village Miriam hadn’t even noticed was there until the last moment. Fields spread out around the walls and the buildings were dark save for a smattering of oil lamps in windows.
Aelthen’s hoof pushed down through the mist and hit the packed dirt of the road like a thunderclap and, as the fae charged, a dog inside the village began to bark a desperate warning. The village gates shattered, hunks of splintered wood flying in all directions as he shouldered them aside, and then the hunt began.
Miriam looked in horror at Aervern as the slaughter began but her eyes were locked on the spectacle. Fae and satyr crashed through doors and windows, and the screams that followed told a sickening tale of what happened thereafter. They were the lucky ones. Others were driven out into the streets for the satyr to torment. Aervern’s eyes gave nothing away of what she might be feeling but she made no move to join the others.
Miriam looked around at those closest to her, and then took an experimental step. The mist had reduced to a thin ribbon running along the road, no longer pulling them along but still keeping them a few inches above the ground itself. She reached out with a foot, past the edge of the ribbon and touched down onto the hard earth. A wild glance back at Aervern, distracted by the gory spectacle, and she slipped away into the night.
She had done it. Fear and hysterical laughter fought for control of her voice as she slipped between two buildings, and then she ran. She went as fast as she was able down a small back-street. Screams were rising over the shrieks of delight and the laughter of the satyr. A desperate wail turned her head and she glimpsed a man being carried aloft by the Swarm as the fae’reeth tore him to bloody shreds.
Doors opened around her as heads poked out into the streets before slamming shut far faster than they had creaked open, curiosity replaced with terror. She didn’t look back, just running took all she had. The village wasn’t a large one. She would need somewhere to hide. Running for any length of time would be futile, she knew. Her feet splashed through the muddy puddles, soaking her robes and feet.
A scream, closer than the others, forced her under an over-hanging roof and tight against a large doorway. The smell of straw and manure filled her nostrils and she fumbled with the door until the latch gave and she stumbled inside.
The sound of animals shifting nervously filled her ears as she eased the door shut and moved forward, one hand thrust out awkwardly in front of her in the darkness. Faint shafts of light filtered through the cracks in the stable’s door and walls. As her eyes adjusted she could make out a series of stalls and what she hoped was a ladder leading up. A pail clanged loudly as she kicked it over and she fumbled on the floor to right it, looking back at the faint outline of the door before she shuffled deeper into the stable.
Flailing hands found the ladder and she pulled herself up into the hayloft on her hands and knees, clambering over the straw. A hand touched flesh and she jerked away as the foot kicked out and a young voice cried out, “Who’s there!”
“Hush, lad,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I’ll not hurt you.”
A scraping accompanied a burst of sparks, and then soft lantern light filled the stable. “Who are you?” the boy asked as she flinched back from the light. His head turned before she could answer as the sound of screams reached him.
“Lords and Ladies, child, put that out!” she hissed.
He snuffed the lantern quickly and she pulled him down to the hay. “What’s going on? Who’s out there?” he asked in a tight whisper.
“No one you want to meet,” she muttered and winced as another scream sounded, seeming to come from directly above the roof. A wet spattering on the shingles was followed by a series of thuds and she reached for the boy’s hand without thinking, squeezing tight.
The door creaked and then slammed a moment later, catching in the night breeze. “You’re not from here. Are you with them?” The question was barely louder than her own breath.
“I’m not with anyone. I ran from them,” she replied. “Be still now, child. I’ll tell you anything you want to know later but for now, shush.”
As she said the last word she realised just how quiet the stables had become, the animals still and silent. She inched closer to the edge of the hayloft, lifting her head to peer over the edge. The eyes were calm as they locked on her, glowing gently in the darkness of the stable.
“You cannot run from me, Miriam. Not now.” Aervern’s said in a small voice “I might wish it were otherwise, but for now you must be bound to my purpose.”
Miriam sighed as hope left her and she reached for the ladder. “Why can’t you just let me be free? I’m of no use to you.”
“You are of more use that you know. It is more than that though, Miriam. I do not expect you have been missed but your absence would be noted when we return to the Realm,” Aervern said softly, every word an apology. She needn’t have bothered. Nothing she could say would ever be enough for this.
The anger came all at once, hot and fierce and bringing a bitter tang to her tongue. “I am not your tool to use, fae!” she spat. “I won’t go back. You’ll have to kill me.”
Aervern gave her a cool look. “I am sorry for this, Miriam. I never would have wished this.”
Miriam looked down as she felt the cool touch of the glamour as the chain formed around her wrist once more, and then the full weight of Aervern’s mind fell upon her, crushing her, and sense and reason left her.
Another scream sounded close to the stable doors and Aervern glanced up at the hayloft. “Be still now, manling,” she whispered to the child. “They come!”
***
Miriam stood on the crumbling balcony. The building stood cl
ose to the edge of Tira Scyon, in an area none of the fae seemed to bother with. She took an experimental step towards the low wall and felt the presence grow inside her head. It grew more alert, watching for her next move. She was close, only six feet from the edge where the wall had broken and tumbled away. Two quick steps were all it would take. She could hurl herself into the air and end it all.
It didn’t take much, just a slight shifting of her weight in preparation to throw herself forward. The presence moved faster than she would have thought possible, smothering her, draining away her will, her anger, until she sighed and stepped back, numb.
Aervern had tried to speak with her several times in the days since they’d come back to Tira Scyon. She’d removed ‘the Touch’ as Aervern had described it, as soon as they reached her home but Miriam had refused to speak to her since. A small part of her had thought she was being childish but then, what more could she do? The hunt had demonstrated one thing, however. Despite all that Aervern claimed she was as much a captive under her as she had ever been with Ileriel. Aervern’s plans, whatever they were, required her cooperation.
Her attempts at suicide were not truly serious, not that she wouldn’t have welcomed death if the opportunity presented itself. It was more an effort to show the fae that she was the one in control, not her. However much Aervern might be able to smother her attempts Miriam was the one triggering the fae’s actions. Aervern may have made her into a puppet but the strings ran in both directions. She could tug on them too. Her lips curved into a perverse smile at the thought.
Movement on the disused street caught her eye and she stepped forward again, leaning on the remains of the wall for support as she craned her neck out. They moved furtively, the cautious movement itself somehow drawing more attention than moving normally would have. It was a satyr, though one far more wild than any she’d seen before. Its clothing was little more than rags, a tattered length of cloth flung over one shoulder and tied around the waist. A flicker turned her head and she caught sight of another, then three more.
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