Chains of Gaia

by James Fahy

  Robin glared back in silence, his jaw working. Hatred poured out from him. He said nothing.

  “I thought as much,” Strigoi sneered, tilting his head back. “You are weakened by your need for these creatures.”

  Karya, Woad and the others were bundled into the room, Robin seeing that their hands were similarly bound. Hawthorn was glaring at Strigoi with a look that was murderous. Robin had rarely seen such hatred on the old Fae’s face.

  “And you, traitors …” Strigoi addressed them as the swarm guards ushered them into the sickly yellow room. “Why do you insist, against sense and reason, on rebelling against your ruler?” He pointed a gnarled black hand across to Robin. “Look. Feast your eyes on your saviour … a frightened, helpless boy. Even with his mana-stone, he cannot lift a finger to save himself … or any of you. Not against my might. Not against the unbreakable will of Dis. Why do you follow this Fae?”

  Karya, hands bound and hair falling across her face, glared up hard at Strigoi. Despite his fierce appearance and evident power, there was no fear in her bright golden eyes. They were ruthless and defiant. “We follow him because he can lead us out of darkness,” she grimaced through gritted teeth. “We follow him because there is nothing he will not do to stop Eris, and the rest of you. Nothing he will not sacrifice. He would die for us, and we would die for him.”

  She looked over at Robin, and the sheer, determined strength in her eyes seemed to kindle courage in his own.

  “Some of us will die for him,” she continued. “Before this war is won. We have no illusions. But it is better to die free, you yapping dog, than to live a slave.”

  “Oh, can we please just gag them all?” Peryl said dramatically, rubbing her temples. “I’m going to get a headache.” Something seemed to occur to her. “Or we could kill them, I suppose?” Eris only needs the Shard and the Scion right? Double trouble. These other losers, they’re all just side dishes.”

  “Their fate is for the empress to decide, not you, little Grimm,” Strigoi growled. “You have enough playthings to take to pieces with the dryads here. But silencing them is a good idea.”

  Peryl waved a hand airily, the red gem on the lapel of her dark suit flashing. Bands of shadow appeared around the mouths of all of Robin’s friends, tied as tightly as cloth.

  “I will prepare the Janus station for travel to Dis. I will return for these whelps,” Strigoi told his sulking companion. “Keep them here, keep them quiet, and no more of your foolish games.” He glanced at the gaggle of muted prisoners. “If any of them move, kill them.” He looked at Robin, and the boy felt the dark mana which had been holding him in place disappear as he was released from the man’s iron will. “And if the troublesome Fae-spawn makes any move … kill them again.”

  He glanced at Peryl. “This son of the old relics might risk his own life stupidly to escape. But he will not risk theirs. They are his weakness. Find the weakness of a creature, and it is easy to control it.”

  Strigoi left the room without a second glance, striding out over the bridge, sending the swarm guard scattering where they hovered, eager to be out of his path.

  When he had gone, two of the tall, yellow insectile creature returned, blocking the exit, stopping any hope of escape there.

  Peryl folded her arms, crossing over to the Shard in its casing. She drummed her fingers on her inner elbows testily.

  Robin’s mind raced. He looked to Woad, Karya and Henry, all of whom were looking back, silenced by their gags of shadow and bound at the hands. They knelt in a line of the floor, incapacitated along with Hawthorn and Ffoulkes.

  Only the princess was not gagged. She sat a little way off, knees drawn up and eyes to the floor. She looked utterly despondent, destroyed by the enslavement of her people and the betrayal of the steward.

  He had to think of something. Their situation had gone from bad to worse. If they didn’t get out of this, they were all going to end up in Eris’ throne room in Dis.

  Robin had no illusions there would be any coming back from that. He looked around desperately. The two creepy looking swarm-creatures were standing at the door, watchful, long wicked-looking spears clutched in their hands, their glassy eyes trained on the prisoners.

  Robin didn’t dare use magic. Strigoi wasn’t bluffing, and he didn’t doubt for a moment that Peryl would harm his friends given half an excuse. She was clearly furious. He turned his attention to her desperately.

  “Looks like you’re not going to get your glory after all then,” he said, hoping to play on her anger. “Must be frustrating, for you to have done all the legwork, put in all this effort, sowing all your seeds in the forest all this time, only to have Strigoi waltz in here and take it out from under your feet.”

  “What’s that annoying buzzing noise?” Peryl replied. “Kind of like a whine?” She glared witheringly at Robin. “Oh … it’s just you. Be quiet.”

  “It must have been satisfying, being the one to deliver the Water Shard, right?” he pressed. “After spending so long practically invisible, being ignored at court, bossed around. No power of your own. I can only imagine old Strife’s face when you toppled him from his golden pedestal. I would have paid to see that.”

  Peryl turned, and actually smirked, despite herself. “Well … I’m not going to pretend that wasn’t fun,” she admitted. “The old, dried up sourpuss has been lording it over the rest of us for so long. I think it came as a bit of shock to see me rise through the ranks like a Valkyrie. Victory is sweet, Scion.” She sneered, glancing around at the prisoners. “You should try it yourself some time.”

  Robin ignored this barb. “Strife will probably find this quite funny, I guess. Strigoi being the delivery boy, not you. Metal-muzzle is already Eris’ darling golden boy, isn’t he? From what I hear. It’s not like he needs the extra credit. Whereas you? Well,” Robin shrugged. “You’re only just proving your worth, aren’t you? This would have been a permanent notch in your belt. Proving Eris’ faith in you was not unfounded? Secured your position for good, eh?”

  She walked over to him, putting her hands in her trouser pockets, looking casual and relaxed. “Do you think I’m completely stupid, blondie?” she asked. “You are so painfully transparent. Trying to turn me against the Wolf of Eris? Appealing to my ego? Do you honestly think I’m foolish enough to defy him, no matter how gorram galling this might be?”

  Robin shrugged. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he admitted honestly. “Dangerously insane perhaps, incurably sociopathic, but not stupid. I suppose…I just thought you were not the kind of person to let someone else come into your kingdom and walk all over you, that’s all. Maybe I was wrong.”

  Peryl sneered. “This is a long game we play, Scion,” she said. “Kind of like a dance, and I know every step. Strigoi may take the glory here, but I don’t forgive or forget. I can wait a long time for revenge on those who undercut me.”

  “I bet Strife can too,” Robin reasoned. Peryl’s face darkened.

  “You’re all so scared of Strigoi,” the boy said, folding his arms. “Every one of you. He doesn’t seem so scary to me. At least he talks straight, not round and round in circles like the rest of you. I think I’d rather be his prisoner than yours anyway. Maybe there’s some honour in being captured by someone like him, as opposed to someone like you, who skulks in shadows and uses clueless puppets to do all her dirty work so she doesn’t get her own hands dirty.”

  Peryl’s eyes blazed. Robin seemed to have managed to find a nerve.

  “Not so scary?” she asked thoughtfully. “You’d rather be with him than with me, eh? An honourable adversary?” She barked a humourless laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Oh my my, Robin Fellows. You really are the most clueless creature ever to walk the Netherworlde, aren’t you? You know nothing about what he is … what he has done.”

  She strolled over to the prisoners, walking behind them until she came to Hawthorn. “This old man here …” she said, whispering as though sharing darkly delicious secrets. “He cou
ld tell you a tale or two about old Strigoi, couldn’t you mister?” She ruffled Hawthorn's hair playfully. The Fae jerked his head away, muttering muffled curses through his gag of shadow. If Peryl even noticed, she ignored his anger. “Hawthorn here was one of the great and good, wasn’t he? One of the best and brightest of Oberon and Titania’s knights in shining armour, back in the day?” She circled the prisoners, making her way back to Robin. “Sidhe-Nobilitas, that was the name, wasn’t it? The order of Fae knights. Noble and righteous and good as butter? Your dear old daddy was one of them too, right?”

  Robin frowned at Peryl, flicking his eyes to Hawthorn, who was glowering darkly, and then back to the girl. “What about it?”

  “Oh,” she sounded mock-surprised, actually raising a pale hand to her mouth. “You mean, you don’t know? About the end of the Sidhe-Nobilitas? No one’s told you what actually happened to them?” She glanced back at Hawthorn, tutting. “Shame on you, old man. Keeping the boy in the dark like this. Don’t you think he has a right to know?”

  “To know what?” Robin asked angrily, annoyed by her teasing.

  “At the end of the war, my dear, constantly baffled Scion,” she explained, flicking an imaginary piece of lint from her pitch black suit. “After your mighty and all-powerful King and Queen had gone ‘poof’, disappearing into thin air, and leaving your entire race alone in the world, just when they were needed the most. Well, let's just say it was a rather … chaotic time.”

  She folder her arms, tilting her head to one side. “The Arcania shattered, the great and wonderful palace of Erlking reduced to ruins. The Sidhe-Nobilitas was lost and leaderless. They did the only sensible thing they knew to do.” She leaned in toward him. “They went into hiding,” she whispered. “Yes, I’m sure they had noble plans to regroup and strategise, to rally their forces and strike back at Eris. Your kind always has these noble ideas. You just never realise when you’ve lost, even in a war. It’s incredibly tiresome.”

  Hawthorn was glaring at the back of Peryl’s head murderously.

  “Of course, you won’t know anything about this yourself,” she said. “You were only a babe in arms at the time. Mewling and helpless. Spirited away out of the Netherworlde to be hidden under a gooseberry bush or whatever.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Mummy and daddy wanted to keep you safe after all, from all the mean old nasty Panthea. I remember it. I might not be much older than you are, but I’ve been not much older than you are for quite a long time now. Mom and pops and all the knights, they had a secret place, where they were safe…or…they thought they did anyway.”

  “What are you saying?” Robin asked.

  “We hunted all over for them,” Peryl said. "The Grimms that is, the other forces of Eris too. Turned the Netherworlde upside down. The empress was hell-bent on finding all the Sidhe-Nobilitas, wiping them out, erasing them from the face of the earth, those who had led the opposition.” Her eyes narrowed to thin slits.

  “We’re all good hunters, Scion. We can all track. But in the end … it was Strigoi.” Her voice darkened. “It was the big bad wolf who blew your house down. Though he wasn’t much of a wolf back then. A mere pup. Strigoi who flushed your family and the other tattered remains of the Nobilitas out from their hidden burrow. Strigoi who led the forces of Eris right … to … their … door.”

  Robin's face felt cold and numb.

  “He found them … Eris found them.” She shook her head. “It was a bloodbath. Like shooting fish in a barrel, from what I hear.”

  With a pale hand she reached out and gently, almost consolingly, stroked Robin's cheek. Her touch was like ice, but her dark and glittering eyes looked odd, almost sad. “He killed your parents, Robin Fellows,” she confessed.

  Robin was shaking. He didn’t want to believe this. He stared past Peryl to Hawthorn, who was looking at him with hooded eyes filled with anger and sadness. The old Fae clearly saw the question on the boy’s face, and, resigned, he nodded.

  “Is it really any wonder why Eris made him her best-friend-forever after that?” Peryl said suddenly bright and breezy again. “Wow. Talk about hitting the jackpot. It’s a shame for him that a couple of the critters managed to get away. Peaseblossom, that old man cowering in the corner over there, running for their lives like rats up drainpipes. But still, we round them up, one by one.” She glanced at Hawthorn. “You’re one of the last aren’t you, old timer?”

  “Strigoi killed my parents?” Robin’s voice was shaking. All he could see before him was the looming dark image of that cruel wolf mask, endlessly grinning, a taunting demon.

  “They died, and the glory was all his,” Peryl confirmed. “Guess he got a taste for it after that. It’s easy to let power go to your head when the empress makes you her favoured dark knight. Your dear mother and father died like rats in a hole, Robin. Alone and afraid on a dark and moonless night, and you have the Wolf of Dis to thank for that.”

  She straightened up, hands clasped behind her back. “So maybe, before you start talking about honour and reason, you should get your facts straight, huh? People here in the Netherworlde are just like people anywhere else. They are rarely how they appear.”

  Robin didn’t argue with this. His jaw was clenching, his knuckles white. He had known, of course, that his parents had died in the war. But he hadn’t known how. He hadn’t known that more than once now, he had been up close and personal with their murderer.

  “I’m going to kill him,” he whispered, his voice low and trembling. Karya and the others were looking up at him, their faces unreadable behind their gags of shadow.

  “Oh, don’t bother getting all avengy, you would die trying,” Peryl said dismissively. “Trust me. You can’t even get close to that one. And neither can I. Strigoi is untouchable.”

  She picked up the Shard in its case on the table, sighing a little sadly, as though she had been enjoying a fun game but now it was over, and it was time to tidy up the toys. “This sport is done,” she declared, turning it over and over in her hands. “You’re all going to Dis, whether I like it or not. Me? I will choose another battle to fight. I guess I should look on the bright side. At least it isn’t the old man Strife taking my glory away. One must be pragmatic about these things…if you want to keep your head on your shoulders, that is.”

  She turned suddenly, utterly unprovoked and lashed out across the room with a bolt of dark mana. It hit Robin squarely, sending him skittering across the floor, to land in a heap with the others, alongside the Princess Ashe.

  “You’re so stupid! Coming here. You could have run home, safe in your silly mansion. Now look where you’ve ended up. Now behave and … just … be quiet,” Peryl suggested. “I’m done talking to you.”

  Robin lay on the floor, winded for a moment, hating the Grimms, hating Eris, but hating Strigoi most of all. The anger and bitterness coursing through him was more powerful than he had ever imagined, even in his darkest moments.

  There was truth in Peryl’s words. No-one was as they seemed. Look at Ffoulkes, a complete sham of a showman, a lowly thief and coward disguising himself as a preening peacock. Look at Jackalope, darker and more damaged than any of them had ever guessed, with the blood of his own brother on his hands. Splinterstem, on the outside a noble and dutiful steward of the dryad court, while inside, a seething mass of selfish ambition, willing to imprison his friends, to murder his own king and sell his own people to the enemy, just for a chance at the power he craved.

  Even the Grimms and Strigoi, playing their vile games, plotting against one another, sneaking around with their own secret agendas. Their pasts filled with darkness and murder and horrible, unforgivable deeds. Who could Robin be expected to trust, in a world like this?

  He was surprised to find, as he pulled himself up off the floor, that the Princess Ashe had taken his hand in hers. She squeezed his fingers gently, and he looked up questioningly into her sad, green eyes.

  “Don’t blame yourself, Scion of the Arcania,” she whispered softly. “All has come
to ruin. Perhaps even with the most noble of intentions, you could not have prevented it.”

  He stared at her, his own eyes feeling hot and dry. Her face was resigned, sad and dignified, even as she knelt on the floor of her enemy’s domain.

  “I lost my love,” she said. “Then my father, and now my kingdom.” She blinked slowly, long eyelashes brushing her cheeks sadly. “You and your friends. You tried to help. But what is there left to fight for? When all is lost? We go to our deaths. Let us go with dignity.”

  Robin looked over at his friends. Woad was struggling quietly and persistently against his bonds. He was clad in iron, a struggle even for a faun. Robin had no doubt he would get free eventually, but they didn’t have the luxury of time.

  Karya and Henry were close together, both watching Peryl closely.

  His helplessness overwhelmed him, but stronger than that, much stronger, was his anger. That they had fallen to this, overpowered by the enemy. After everything they had been through, they were trapped here in this prison. No way out, no hope of escape, no help coming from the outside world. Even now, far below them, the monster who had destroyed the Sidhe-Nobilitas, who had wiped his parents from the face of the earth, was preparing a gateway to Eris herself, while here they waited, trapped by a Grimm and her dangerous, buzzing guards, powerless to act. It infuriated Robin. The sheer injustice of it.

  “What is there left to fight for?” he wondered aloud, under his breath. A poem his grandmother had been fond of came into his mind, unbidden. She had liked poetry from time to time. Sometimes, she had read aloud to Robin, though he had been very young at the time and seldom interested, unless it had been something hilarious or outlandish like the Jabberwocky. The line that came to him now was not hilarious, but it whispered in the back of his mind, in a memory of his gran's warm and scratchy voice, as darkness seemed to be falling all around their best efforts. ‘Do not go gentle into that good night …’ he heard her say softly. ‘Rage. Rage … against the dying of the light.’