by John Conroe
“Lord Declan, Lady Stacia,” he said. Points for calling my lady a Lady.
“Guardian Greer,” Stacia greeted him. I just nodded, staying quiet.
“I bid you greetings from my mother,” he said. Interesting, keeping it casual instead of naming her by title. Then I recalled how much contact and time he’d spent with Ian and Ashley Moore. This elf had a much deeper understanding of humans and child-parent connections.
“And what does your mom have to say?” Stacia asked, waving at one of three chairs hastily set up for this meeting. None of the three were similar to the others.
Greer eyed the mismatched furniture, then turned his head slightly to look at a chipped dent in the stone wall. “We recently entertained one of your aunt’s people,” I explained, hastily waving a hand to smooth out the ball-shaped crater in the stone. He nodded, no change in his expression, and gracefully sat in the chair that Stacia had indicated. For herself, she chose the one nearest his and I sat furthest away. My protective wolf was taking no chances.
“Mother wished me to convey her admiration for your skill, speed, and innovative methods of handling the recent probes by Winter and Summer upon your realm. She was very impressed.”
Not what I expected. “I doubt your sister feels the same way,” I said after a quick glance at Stacia.
“Oh, Neeve as much as told Mother not to bother with a death spirit and snorted when she heard our aunt had led with plants and insects. My sister would have been grossly disappointed if either attack had pressed you overly.”
“We would have thought she’d be more… hostile?” Stacia questioned.
“You do not know my sister well at all,” Greer said with a sardonic smile. “Never have I seen her more energized than now. She has even more admiration for your skills than Mother does. She spends almost every free moment in preparation for your next encounter.”
Somehow the thought of Fairie’s deadliest assassin training for my execution failed to give me a fuzzy warm glow.
“Well, that’s… just awesome,” I said.
He looked at me, confused for a second, then his expression cleared. “Sarcasm. Yes, I get it. Just know that she considers you, and by that I mean the two of you, to be her grandest enemy yet.”
“That’s probably a high honor somehow, isn’t it?” Stacia asked.
“The highest. Mother’s grandest enemy is Aunt Zinnia. Normally, most would think that Eirwen is Neeve’s grandest, but she’s never been all that good a fighter. More trickster.”
“So, ah, you didn’t ride a troll train here to tell us about Neeve, did you?” I asked.
“No, no. Mother sent me. She would like to parley with you. Discuss a cessation of hostilities between the Middle and Winter realms.”
“Let me guess... and have me come over to her side?” I asked.
He tilted his head, brows furrowed. “No. That’s not necessary,” he said. “Simply ceasing to attack one another would be enough. Zinnia obviously underestimated you when she set this whole thing up. She’s wasted her strength and will likely continue to waste her strength against you. It’s easier for Mother to do nothing while Zinnia attempts to batter you down.”
“Wait, back up. Zinnia set this up? As in me and this realm?” I asked.
“Yes. Your existence was a surprise, then both an opportunity and a threat. Neeve and Eirwen both reported back on you, although Neeve was the only one to see you fight. A witch of your power was unforeseen.”
“Fight? You mean when a group of us stood off the Wild Hunt?” I asked.
“Yes. The queens were intrigued by your strength. Both princesses observed some of your magical strategy game, although only Neeve realized it had value beyond being simple entertainment. She likened it to creazze—a game my people play, only it uses living people, not dirt and clay puppets. Like your Wytch War, creazze is about strategy and tactics. The players use tricks and tactics to manipulate the people who surround their opponent. Their co-workers, family, acquaintances. Creazze permeates our society.”
“Lies?” Stacia asked.
“NO. No. We are never to lie. Obfuscate, mislead, suggest, omit, these are the weapons of creazze.”
“So Zinnia heard about me and what? Thought I should become an opponent here on Fairie?” I asked.
“She thought you would be able to accept and hold a realm. One that could then be taken from you. So she conceived of the dragon talks and manipulated events to pull you here from Earth.”
“But Neeve was in on it and your mother must have been as well,” Stacia said.
“Of course. Sometimes the best strategy is to go along with your enemy’s plan long enough to put a small stone under her steed’s claws.”
“Like throwing a wrench into the works?” Stacia asked.
Confusion flooded his face. “What is a wrench?”
“Never mind. So Zinnia decided that Declan could possibly take and hold the untouched Middle Realm, thereby giving her an opportunity to take it for herself?” Stacia asked.
“Exactly. She suggested that Mother go along, as it could work to her benefit, never intending it to actually do so.”
“But your mother went along because she foresaw it wouldn’t work out in Zinnia’s favor?” Stacia asked.
“Mother had the benefit if Neeve’s more detailed assessment of Lord Declan’s abilities. My sister was much impressed with whatever you did to the Wild Hunt’s leader, and your expertise and success in the game with the clay men. Eirwen, and therefore Zinnia, knew only that you had defeated the Hunt’s leader, not the rather spectacular manner in which you did so.”
“That light spell thingy?” Stacia asked me.
“It was Sorrow’s suggestion,” I said.
“Oh, well, that explains a lot,” she said.
Greer looked very interested in our byplay but Stacia switched gears quickly. “So your mom wants to meet for a friendly chat. Where exactly would she propose holding such a chat?” she asked.
“On the east coast of this continent, directly offshore from the Middle realm, there lies an island that is not claimed by any of the realms. It is relatively barren and not of strategic or economic value,” he said.
“I see,” she said. “Is it a trap?”
“Mother expressly asked me to assure you that she will not attack you,” he said.
“See now that you’ve explained this national pastime of calculated deceit, I have to say I’m less satisfied with that answer than I would have been an hour ago,” she said. “Does your mother intend us harm? Yes or no?”
“No. She intends to talk.”
I turned to Stocan. “Do you know this place?”
He nodded. “It lies several of your units of linear measurement off of your coastline. Nobody lives there, to my knowledge. Rocky, with some thick brushy areas. The island is about three-quarters of the size occupied by Idiria.”
Stacia looked my way and I raised both eyebrows. She nodded.
“Greer, thank you for your visit. We’ll consider your mother’s request and give you an answer. Say, in about three hours? Oh, when did she want to meet?” I asked.
“Two days hence on the deserted isle. It would be most satisfactory if you responded before I am due back at Winter,” he said with his own nod. Standing, he bowed and left the apartment. Stocan stayed behind.
“You know this creazze game?” Stacia asked Stocan when we were certain Greer was gone.
“It would be safe to say that almost every citizen of any of the realms knows creazze. Many, many people engage in creazze on a daily basis,” he said.
“Do you play it?” I asked.
“To live on Fairie is to play creazze. Whether you intend to or not.”
“In other words, you either control the game or it controls you,” my wolf said.
“Actually, it is entirely possible to be engage in several games of your own and still be a piece on several other boards,” Stocan said with a bow, backing for the door. “I will await your ans
wer and convey it to Guardian Greer.”
Chapter 26
We sent word to Greer forty minutes later that we would meet Morrigan on the unnamed isle at dawn two days from now. It didn’t leave us much time to organize, but the consensus was that it would work. It also gave Omega enough time to send a pair of drones to the island to reconnoiter the place.
Late afternoon the day after our Greer visit, we portal hopped from Idiria to the secret wolf cave (the Bat Cave moniker is already taken) and from there to the coast. Omega’s drone footage and my own Realm sense gave me enough information to get the coordinates right and we stepped out onto a seaside landscape that could have almost doubled for the eastern seaboard of the United States.
“You have a beach,” Stacia said. It sounded a bit accusatory.
“Yeah… beaches on both sides of the continent,” I said.
“I like beaches,” she said.
“Okay, number one, I didn’t know that, and number two, we’ve been sorta busy,” I said.
“Excuses, O’Carroll,” she said but when I whipped around to stare at her, I saw her mischievous smile.
“Well, providing we don’t wreck it, maybe we can come back and check it out for a week or two,” I said.
“See, right there you’ve gone and jinxed it. No way you won’t trash the whole sea coast now,” she said, her attention more focused on looking over the terrain. “I’d say that clearing would be a good camping spot but you’re probably going to tell me some arcane realm holder crap about why it sucks.”
“Ouch—cut right to the quick. For your information, your spot is the best around,” I said. It was, with a flat sandy spot and an exposed outcropping of rock between us and the ocean that would block the nighttime wind and reflect the heat of a fire back at us. It would also block most of the light from anyone out at sea.
“Of course. The nose knows,” she said with an index finger pointed at her face.
We set up a quick camp as the sun started to drop in the west, building our fire right up against the outcropping. I also borrowed heat from the surrounding dunes, using the stored solar therms to warm our sleeping spot.
“So, let’s look at the island again,” I said, pulling out a tablet. Omega brought up an overhead view of the island.
“The island is point-nine-six miles long, north to south, and at its widest, just under a half mile across, west to east. Almost oval with the exception of the southern tip, which is an asymmetrical shape that Stacia accurately called a duck’s bill in our last planning session. Highest elevation is twenty-one-point-two feet above sea level and its total area is approximately two hundred and four acres. The high point lies just north of the middle of the island on the eastern side, and consists of rocky upthrusts exposed by erosion with a sharp drop off to the ocean. The bulk of the island is covered with rather thick vegetation ranging from twenty-two inches to one hundred and thirty-two inches in height. In short, it would be an excellent site for an ambush.”
“Any surprises among the current inhabitants?” Stacia asked.
“Seventeen species of bird, three species of arthropod, three snake varieties, one of which is venomous, and an unknown number of insects. No known representative members of either Court.”
“So we pop over there two hours before dawn and set up. The portal set to go?” Stacia asked.
“It’s the same coordinates for the portal I added to the ones already in the wolf cave. Actually, it’s pretty interesting because I’m really just adding a doorway to that longer portal rather than creating an entirely separate one,” I said.
“Such a portal nerd,” she said.
I raised an eyebrow at her. “An hour at the seaside and you’re already too salty.”
“Just channeling my inner Lydia,” she said with a grin.
I snorted. “I said salt, not a lethal snark attack.”
“True; she’d never go that easy on you. What about the weather?” she asked.
“I can promise sunshine and calm breezes until mid-morning but after that…” I said, both hands palm up.
“Perfect,” she said with a killer smile. “Can you sense the island at all?”
“Not even a little. Salt water plays havoc on magic senses and my realm ends at the waterline.”
“All right, let’s get settled in for bed,” she said. My eyebrows went up. She looked at me with a sexy grin. “I’ll take first watch. I’ll get you up in four hours,” she said, laughing as my brows dropped and my own grin turned into a frown.
“So focused,” I said, laying out my sleeping pad and bag.
“Oh, you’re pretty focused too, just on the wrong thing for the current environment,” she said. “Gotta stay alert.” I started to object to tell her it was my realm and I would sense everything. She spoke first. “Can’t have anymore snake men.”
Ouch. Accurate but ouch. It was warm behind our rocks, with the small fire and the heat I’d drawn, so I lay on top of my sleeping bag, boots off, feet crossed at the ankles.
“How do you think the others are?” I asked. For a few seconds, she didn’t answer, still settling herself into a little spot under a short, scrubby evergreen where shadows hid her but left good visibility and access to the night breezes. Above her, atop the tree, one of Omega’s little drones clung to the wispy branches and watched everything.
“I think they’re fine. Omega would tell you if they weren’t. It’s frigging Team Gordon we’re talking about here.”
“I just didn’t leave things very well,” I said, staring up at the stars overhead.
“It’ll take some time and some missions but it’ll all work out. You’ll see,” she said, just a shadow under her tree. “Get some sleep. I’m waking you up in four hours.”
I watched the sky for a few minutes, thinking about our plan and the rest of the team and the queens, the Vorsook, and my mother. Then my eyes slid shut. A few minutes later, Stacia shook me awake.
“What is it?” I hissed, trying to get my bearings, reaching out to the land.
“Your turn for watch. All quiet here and Omega says quiet on the island, too.”
The land told me she was right. I pulled on my boots and stood up. My spot on the sleeping bag was instantly taken by Stacia. “Ummm, nice and warm,” she said, eyes watching me as I shook myself more awake. A mug of water, then a mug of strong black coffee from my thermos, and I settled into a spot leaning against the fire-warmed rock wall.
“You can’t see anything from there,” she whispered to me.
“I can’t see anything anywhere. But I can feel the bejeepers outta the whole place, especially against this rock.”
“Don’t fall asleep,” she warned, closing her eyes and promptly doing just that.
I watched her sleep, curled in my spot while my other senses filled me with information about the land around me. A long-tailed, northern forest owl sat in a Fairie oak tree four hundred yards south and once I thought about him, I found myself seeing through his eyes. A coastal jackal, slightly larger than a fox, patrolled the ocean edge, looking for edibles washed up by the waves. I followed along inside her for a couple of miles, leaving her when she found a delightfully smelly fish carcass to chow down.
A highly venomous crimson-jawed sand viper undulated across the space between Stacia and myself, tasting the air with its tongue, listening to the ground and, to some extent, the air with the vibrating bones in its skull. I felt those too, sensing the rhythm of Stacia’s breathing and the movement of my own left foot as I rode the hunting reptile out of the campsite. The night was as busy as the day and I observed, experienced, and felt every hunt, mating, conflict, birth and death that it offered me. My shift flew by, the darkest part of night giving way to faint, faint threads of light in the sky.
My phone lit up with a message.
“Father, a portal has opened and Queen Morrigan is on the island. She has her daughter, son, and the Sasquatch with her.”
“Okay, time to get ready,” I said quietly to my sleep
ing girl. Stacia’s eyes opened instantly, meeting mine with immediate awareness. She blinked once before rolling easily to her feet. We both splashed water on our faces, brushed hair and teeth, and ate a cold breakfast of bread, cheese, and sliced ham.
“All right. I guess I’m ready as I’ll be,” she said after checking her face in a little hand mirror and then suddenly diving into her pack for a wispy scarf. I was leaning against a rock, holding her gun, waiting, and I couldn’t stop a little sigh.
“What? You don’t meet with queens every day, ya know,” she said.
“Well, most of the time this queen is trying to kill us,” I said, handing her the DP-12. “The time for first impressions is long past.”