by Sean Cullen
“What is this? What Ward is this?” A tremor in Tain’s voice betrayed his growing fear.
“A Ward devised especially to contain you and your fellows,” Merddyn replied. He raised his arms with a shout. The voices of the Faeries rose to an ear-shattering shriek.
The stone at the centre of the circle erupted into white hot flames blazing with tightly leashed energy. The Faeries, too, radiated power, their hair standing out, crackling with blue sparks.
“No! NO!” Tain struggled against his chains. His enemies watched with horror as their leader was dragged by unseen forces toward the glowing stone. Tain clawed the turf, desperate to stop his progress.
“You cannot hold me!” the Dark Faerie Lord shrieked. He was almost at the foot of the stone. “You have not defeated me!”
Tain was drawn into the blazing stone, sinking into the shining surface like a rock into a pool of glowing oil. A clap of thunder rolled out across the battlefield. The light died, leaving the rock standing still, cold and black.
Merddyn turned to the other prisoners. “You have seen what will happen to those who continue to rebel. If you agree to accept the Pact with the People of Metal and live by its articles, you shall be freed. But… ” Merddyn’s eyes hardened. “Should you break the Pact, you will face the same dire punishment. What say you?”
The Dark Faeries were silent. The lesser among them turned to those who’d been the lieutenants of Lord Tain. There were three of them: a brother and sister, Orcadia and Briach Mac Morn. They were pale of skin, beautiful to behold even in defeat. They sneered defiance. The third was tall, with dark brown skin. His long chestnut hair hung in curls around his face. His mouth curled in a crooked smile, his honey-brown eyes crinkling with humour.
“Well, now! Very generous terms, I should think.” He chuckled. “One would be a fool not to accept.”
“I’m glad you see it that way, Pukh,” Merddyn replied. “I would not wish to continue this conflict. We have all suffered enough.”
“I agree.” Pukh grinned, showing bright, even teeth. “Besides, there is plenty of world for all of us to share.
I don’t expect I’ll ever be completely at ease around Humans, not the way you are, but I will find a little patch for myself and those who wish to come with me.”
Merddyn didn’t respond. He turned to the Human King. “Strike off their chains.”
“And then?” the King growled.
“Then we have a Pact to strike.”
“There are still fugitives,” the King said. “Not all surrendered and not all lie dead below.”
“They shall be hunted down and given the same option,” Merddyn said.
“And if they refuse?”
“There are many more stones like those in this circle,” the Ancient Faerie said with great weariness. “Come, there is much to discuss.”
Greenleaf went to a Faerie who knelt in the mud, her armour spattered with blood and grime. Her golden hair hung in muddy tangles. As he approached she looked up and smiled.
“Brother,” she said. “I have missed you.”
“And I you, Deirdre,” Greenleaf replied with a sad smile. He reached out an elegant hand and helped her to her feet. “Let us go home.”
Later, in the darkness, Merddyn made his way back to the circle of stones. The talks had gone late into the night, but the Pact was in place. After long negotiations, the Humans and Faeries had agreed on three basic rules. First, Faeries could continue to live among Humans as long as they submitted to Human rule. Second, Faeries were forbidden to interfere in Human affairs. Third, any of the Fair Folk who refused to accept the Pact were to be exiled to the Other Side.^13 Or, they could choose to live in one of a few Sanctuaries established by the more powerful Fair Folk. These Sanctuaries were forbidden to Humans and would be hidden from the world by powerful glamours. Pukh was already gathering supporters to join him in a kingdom he planned to call “Tir na nOg,” or “the Everlasting Lands.”
Merddyn simply wanted peace. The Pact was difficult to accept, even for him. Essentially, it made Fair Folk dependent on the goodwill of Humans for their continued survival. He imagined a future in which Faeries would fade from Human memory, existing only in legend, as tales to frighten children around hearth fires.
Merddyn had one more task before he could rest. He wearily entered the circle of stones, lit up by the moon’s silver light. The stones now contained imprisoned Faeries, those who’d refused to accept the terms of the Pact. With the Faerie glamours, no one would recognize the rocks as the prisons they were.
Merddyn closed his eyes and let the energy gather in him. He reached out with his mind, raising his arms, palms upward. Beads of sweat instantly popped out on his forehead.
With a grinding sound, the stones rose from the ground, trailing clods of black earth. The massive rocks hovered for a moment, then began to circle Merddyn. Faster and faster they sped. The roar as they passed through the air was like the scream of a hurricane.
Suddenly Merddyn dropped his arms. The stones shot off in all directions, catapulting high into the atmosphere. The speed of their passage ignited the air. Like shooting stars in reverse, they flew higher and higher. The central stone lanced upwards like a rocket and disappeared into the dark sky.
Merddyn fell to his knees, exhausted. His limbs quivered as he gasped for breath.
“That was a pretty piece of work, Merddyn.”
He looked up to see Pukh standing across from him on the now-empty hilltop. Behind him stood two Faeries, a tall man with silver hair and a dour face, and a tiny woman with wide grey eyes and a vague, dreamy smile.
Merddyn rose shakily to his feet. “The stones are hidden now by glamours and distance. Not even I know where they will fall. They will never be found.”
“Never is a long time, Merddyn.” Pukh chuckled. His pale brown eyes twinkled. “A long time.”
With that, Pukh turned and melted into the shadows, his two companions close behind. ^ 9 The location of this battlefi eld is the topic of some debate among Faerie scholars. Some place it in western Europe. Some insist that the battle took place in the steppe country of what is now called Russia. Still others suggest that it took place on the site of a shopping mall in New Jersey. We may never know for sure.
^ 10 The Far Lands are the Fair Folk’s equivalent of heaven.
^ 11 The People of Metal is the Faerie term for Humans. They call us this because of our propensity to mine for ore and craft things from it and because of their physical aversion to iron, which causes a bad reaction on contact with Faerie skin, ranging from rashes to toxic shock and death.
^ 12 This crystal material is somehow spiritually linked to its owner. When the owner dies, the armour melts away, returning to the Earth. This is the main reason Faerie artifacts are rarely found. They’re biodegradable. Always thinking, those Faeries.
PART 1
Feet in Both Worlds
SCHOOL
“I’m outta here!” Brendan announced, cramming the last of his books into his backpack. “It’s Friday and I’m gonna go straight home. I might sit in my room and listen to music. I might lie on the couch and watch TV. I might just stare at the walls, drooling. I don’t care! It’s Friday and I’m going home.”
Harold looked annoyed. “We still haven’t gotten any work done on our presentation for social studies. No, let me rephrase that: you haven’t gotten any work done on our presentation for social studies.”
“We only have until next Friday, Brendan,” Dmitri agreed. “We’d better get on the bowl.”
“Ball,” Brendan laughed. “Not bowl, Dmitri.”
They were standing in front of Robertson Davies Academy’s main entrance. Students streamed past them down the stone steps, eager to start the weekend. Only one week remained before the Christmas break, and the mood was high. Exams would follow the two-week layoff, but no one worried about that now. All thoughts were on freedom.
“Can’t we just put in a couple of hours now?” Harold pleaded
. “I’m serious. I don’t like leaving things until the last minute.”
Brendan swung his bag over his shoulder, shaking his head. “Sorry, guys. I just want some time to myself. I’ve been really busy lately.”
“Oh? We hadn’t noticed,” Harold said sarcastically.
“What have you been up to, Brendan?” Dmitri asked in a gentler tone. “You’ve been very reoccupied.”
“Preoccupied. And it’s just stuff. Family stuff,” Brendan said vaguely. He was telling the truth. Most of his time outside of school was being eaten up by “family” activities. His Faerie relatives were keeping him busy training him to harness his new abilities. He spent every extra minute with Kim, Greenleaf, and other Faerie tutors working on his new perceptive skills. When he wasn’t doing that, he was being thrashed in sparring sessions with Saskia, the Warp Warrior who tended the bar at the Swan of Liir on the Ward’s Island. So far, his schoolwork hadn’t suffered too badly, but his friendship with Harold and Dmitri had. He hardly saw them outside of class. As he looked into their faces, he saw that they were unhappy. He had to make a gesture of some kind.
“Listen,” he said. “Why don’t we get together on the weekend and do the work then? You guys can come to my house and we’ll get the presentation into shape.”
“I guess,” Harold said reluctantly.
“My mum will probably be baking this weekend.”
Harold’s face visibly brightened. The chubby boy was a fan of Brendan’s mum’s cookies. “Okay. When should we come over?”
“Tomorrow,” Brendan decided. “Let’s say, two o’clock.”
“Okay.” Dmitri smiled.
“See you then,” Brendan said. He waved and set off toward the park and home.
Dmitri and Harold watched him go.
“I wonder what kind of family business he’s got that keeps him busy every night of the week,” Harold pondered.
“Who knows?” Dmitri shrugged. “My family keeps me busy, I guess. My babka hasn’t been feeling well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harold said. “Tell her I say hello.”
“Really?” Dmitri asked, confused. “Okay. But you’ve never met her before.”
“Haven’t I? I thought I had once.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I could have sworn I had.” Harold’s eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to dredge his memory. “I could have sworn.”^ 14
“Don’t worry about it.” Dmitri clapped him on the back. “Are you taking the streetcar?”
“Yeah,” Harold said. “Let’s ride.”
As Brendan waited at the crosswalk for the light to change, he saw Chester Dallaire on the other side of the street. They hadn’t spoken since he’d released Chester from the Compulsion in the hospital room weeks ago. Chester had only just returned to school after a long psychiatric evaluation.
He was no longer the same hulking bully who’d terrorized their little group every day. He was quieter. He kept pretty much to himself, having discarded the cadre of rough friends he’d once run with. He’d lost weight and cut his hair.
Brendan felt a pang of guilt. These changes were the result of his actions. He had unwittingly used his powers on Chester, powers he’d been unaware he even possessed. Chester had been bullying Brendan and Kim when Brendan had said simply, “Get lost!” He’d learned the hard way that he had to be careful what he said to Humans. A Faerie can Compel people to do things with words alone, and the stronger the will behind the words, the stronger the Compulsion. Brendan’s command had sent Chester fleeing across the country in a desperate, mindless effort to lose himself. The police finally found him and sent him to the hospital until Brendan released him from the Compulsion. Brendan remembered that moment and the grateful reaction of Chester’s mother with a great deal of shame. He hoped that Chester was okay and had suffered no lasting damage. When they passed each other in the halls, Chester never spoke to him but just nodded in acknowledgment. At times, however, when Brendan was in the cafeteria or standing talking with his friends, he’d catch Chester staring at him. Brendan wondered how much of his ordeal Chester recalled and if he knew of Brendan’s involvement.
Chester was trudging north to the subway entrance. He must have sensed Brendan’s eyes on him because he looked up directly at him. He stared for an uncomfortable moment and then nodded his head once. Brendan lamely waved a hand and looked away, walking across the street into the park.
The high-pitched buzz of a small engine approached. Kim coasted up on her scooter, her silver crash helmet flashing in the weak December sunlight. Her real name was Ki-Mata, but she allowed Brendan to call her by the name she used in Human company, Kim.
“Is that a new scooter?” Brendan asked.
“Yep! Og totally freaked when I told him how the other one got trashed. I had to beg and plead and generally grovel, but he agreed to build me a new one.” Og was Brendan’s Faerie uncle. A rough and hearty fellow, he hardly seemed the type to be good with his hands. Og was an Artificer, however, the Faerie equivalent of an engineer.^ 15 He had built a scooter for Kim, which she’d trashed during the headlong escape from the mad and dangerous Orcadia. “He wasn’t happy, but in the end, he couldn’t say no.”
“I’ll bet.” Brendan laughed. He couldn’t imagine many people, Faerie or Human, who’d stand in Kim’s way if she really wanted something. In spite of her toughness, she was what most of the boys at RDA would call a hottie. But should any of them call her that within earshot, she’d likely brain them with the field hockey stick that perpetually jutted out from her backpack. Brendan supposed that was part of the reason she was so appealing. She was pretty and kind of terrifying at the same time.
“What’s your problem?” Kim asked suddenly.
Brendan realized he’d been staring at her. He tried to look nonchalant. “Nothing.”
“How have your training sessions been going?” Kim asked.
“Brutal. I can’t seem to get anything right. I’ve lost whatever connection I had to my abilities.”
“Sorry, Brendan. You’ve got to get up to speed. You have to practise.”
“Why? What’s the big rush? Faeries live a really long time, right? I have years to practise. Decades! Centuries!” They crossed the street into Queen’s Park. The trees were stark and bare now. No snow had fallen yet, but Brendan could sense the winter in the rawness of the wind as it rattled the dead leaves around their feet. One of the benefits of being a Faerie was the way his senses were heightened and tuned to nature in a way he’d never imagined before the glamours that concealed them had been lifted.
“See ya ’round. Get some sleep tonight. Or better yet, work on your meditation!” She gunned the motor and took off across the park.
“Oi! I’m trying to get some shut-eye here!” a little voice cried. Brendan unzipped his jacket to reveal BLT stretching her tiny arms as she stood in his inner pocket. Ever since his uncle Og had gifted the Lesser Faerie’s services to Brendan on his Quest for the missing amulet, she’d been his constant companion. She had a taste for sweets that bordered on addiction. Blinking, she looked up at Brendan and flapped her gauzy wings.^ 16 “What’s the racket?”
“You shouldn’t sleep so much in the day,” Brendan scolded. “You end up being awake all night.”
“What can I say? I’m a night person.” She yawned and burped.^ 17
“Well, I’m a sleep person. And I want to get some. So try to shift your schedule.”
BLT scowled. “What am I supposed to do all day while you’re in that idiotic Human school?”
“What did you do before you were assigned to me?”
“Sleep.”
“Oh brother,” Brendan groaned.
“Who are you talking to?”
Brendan nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around to find a girl standing on the path. Thin and pale, she wore an oversized black leather motorcycle jacket over a Weezer T-shirt and tattered black jeans. Her black hair was gelled up into a spiky mohawk. On her
hands, she wore black woollen gloves with the fingers cut off, revealing black painted nails.
“Sorry.” She laughed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t,” Brendan said quickly. “I just didn’t see you there.”
“Of course you didn’t.” She smiled. “Nobody sees me unless I want them to.” Her blue eyes sparkled. They were a blue that Brendan had never seen on any person before: sapphire shimmering with deeper shades of violet. He realized then that she was a Faerie like him.
His heart raced. He’d been told by Ariel, Greenleaf, and Kim to be wary of any Fair Folk who approached him without a proper introduction. After his experience with Orcadia, that seemed like sound advice.
The girl stepped closer and held out a hand. “I’m Charles.” She pronounced it “Sharles.” “My friends call me Charlie. You can, too, if you like.” She spoke with a soft accent. She sounded French or maybe Quebecois.
Brendan stared at the hand but didn’t reach for it. “Charles? That’s a boy’s name.”
“Real smooth.” BLT had crawled out of her hiding place to sit on Brendan’s shoulder.
“Shut up, you little pest,” Brendan said.
The girl dropped her hand and shrugged. “It’s my name. I’m a girl. That makes it a girl’s name, doesn’t it? Don’t I look like a girl to you?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess so,” Brendan said dumbly. She was a little punk for his taste. Still, he could see that under the makeup, hair, and shredded clothes, there might be a pretty cute girl. He pushed the thought away. He had to concentrate. This could be a potentially dangerous situation.
He looked around for Kim but she was long gone on her scooter. He had to deal with this on his own.
“What’s the matter?” Charlie pressed. “Am I scaring you?” She laughed, crinkling up her nose. He felt sure she was mocking him. “You look a little worried.”