by Nunn, PL
Those close to him came the nearest. His lover. His daughter. Lingering just outside his hall, contemplating joining him. He would have lashed out at them as quickly as any other member of the court who dared his patience. They knew this. They never breached the boundary of doorway to hall.
He let his senses span the forest.
Followed the various paths his minions chose. Simmered at the failure. Then, at the edge of his senses, he scented the use of power. Weak at first, then rapidly building to a rather strong display of magic. He traced it to its source as quickly as he could, excitement hammering inside him. He found easy access to the minds of his courtiers. Deduced that they had indeed found what he wanted and that they were being denied.
So the girl had help.
Of course she had. Sidhe help. He sensed a spasm of pain as one of the courtiers, pressed beyond endurance, blacked out. The other was suddenly hard pressed to hold up the attack. No minor power opposed them, then.
His courtier faltered and Azeral rapidly threw a surge of his own far reaching power through the weakening conduit of his man and against the resisting will. The other’s shield was weak from the struggle. It wavered under Azeral’s new attack. But it was too late.
His only connection to the struggle was his courtier and he felt that connection waver and start to crumple. With vicious desperation he threw a sharp stab of power against the magic defenses of the foe. Brittle shields cracked at the impact, and Azeral for one brief moment felt behind them. He recognized the mind of his opponent. Rage washed over him, all consuming. He knew the struggling magic that had defeated his courtiers. He knew it and despised it.
With a cry of anger he lashed out across the distance. The connection was severed and he was left unawares for a few moments. His sidhe were down. He could not find the minds of their huntsmen.
He knew only vaguely the area the skirmish had taken place. He could only hope his final stab had been enough for permanent damage.
In frustration he bellowed. The echoes rebounded about the chamber. So close. So very close and ‘that’ one rebuffed his efforts. He would see the girl either dead or in his hands and by Annwn he would relish finding Okar El’shirian and sending him slowly on his final journey.
~~~
Okar toppled forward. Victoria was not swift enough to catch him, so he fell face first in the underbrush. The attacking huntsmen faltered and suddenly seemed at a loss for action. They stared about the glade with wide bewildered eyes, as if their strings had been suddenly cut. More than likely they had. The magic flying about the glade had ceased as well.
Aloe, without mercy or consideration that her foes had lost the desire to fight, plunged her dagger into the chest of the man she had been struggling with. The body crumpled, and the remaining two suddenly bolted for the wood. Aloe and Keirom looked as if they would give chase. Victoria called them back with a scream.
“Don’t you dare! Okar’s hurt.”
They bristled, bleeding and filled with adrenaline. But they came back, kneeling beside their fallen comrade with concern. He would not respond to their urges to waken. His skin was pale and sweat-drenched and his shoulder and back bleeding where the blade had cut him.
Aloe placed a hand on his brow, her frown grew deeper.
“Alkar and I came up with this foolishness,” she said. “We’d be dead now if he had come instead of his brother. Thank the fates that one of them has the sense he was born with.”
“Is he all right?”
“I don’t know. He drained himself.
There were two of them, I think.”
“There were.” Victoria nodded shakily. And something else she could not quite put a name to.
Aloe wiped sweat from her brow.
“We’ve got to go. Now.”
No one argued. They wrestled Okar’s limp form to the back of a horse and strapped him to his saddle. Aloe laid a hand on his back when they had finished.
Her face was grim.
“You were right, Victoria. She’s going to kill us.”
~~~
Ashara, lady of the Seelie court woke with a scream perched silently on her lips.
Her night vision cut through the darkness of her room. For a desperate moment she searched for the comforting warmth of her mate and found his place empty and cold.
In her panic, she only half remembered the reason for his absence. The nightmare was all that her sleep-drugged mind could comprehend at the moment.
The nightmare centered wholly about Okar in pain. Okar dying. She was not prophetic. She did not usually have visions, or put much stock into the wanderings of her sleeping mind. But this.
This vision had been too sharp and too real.
She flung the covers from her and barely paused for a robe as she fled from her rooms. She was a dozen steps from Neira’sha’s door when it opened and that lady peered out at her with worry on her narrow face.
“What is it?” the elder demanded, as Ashara caught hold of her hands and pulled her back into the darkened chamber.
“I had a dream. A terrible dream. Okar is in danger, Neira’sha. I know it.”
“Calm down. Sit down.” The woman forced her onto the cushions, hands firmly on her shoulder. Ashara barely paid her heed. Her mind was flying desperately over the leagues, searching for the one mind that was closest to hers. No matter how far he was, she should have been able to contact him. Should have been able to sense his thoughts. But there was nothing. Nothing. Her hands began to shake. She cast a pleading look to Neira’sha. She was the premier farseer.
Her mind roamed farther and better than any other Ashara knew.
“Find him,” she whispered. “If you can’t, then my chances are no better.”
“Something’s happened,” Ashara tried to force reason. “Find Aloe then. She was with him.”
Neira’sha patted her hand, nodding.
She sat down next to Ashara and closed her eyes. Ashara watched her anxiously. Afraid to tag along on the wave of Neira’sha’s search, although she desperately wanted to. After too long a while, Neira’sha murmured. “I have her. She’s far away…” Her eyes opened wide and she could not hide the dismay that crossed her face. Ashara moaned. She jumped into the tread Neira’sha had made and followed the thin mental trail to Aloe.
Found the girl’s mind a jumble of fear and excitement. Fear over pursuit. Excitement from a battle recently won. Dread for the welfare of…oh mother earth… Okar.
“Damn them all!” she cried. “I forbade it and they ignored me. Now look.”
“I am,” Neira’sha said quietly. “They are being followed. The Unseelie hunt infests the Alkeri’na.”
Ashara shot to her feet. “Keep track of them. Close track. I’m going to open a portal.”
Neira’sha blinked at her. “Is that wise?”
“No. But I will do it regardless.” She ran to the balcony and vaulted it with athletic ease. She willed the air to gather and soften her descent. Her feet touched gently to ground in the inner garden. She ran a few steps in and gathered power, focusing in on Neira’sha’s awareness of Aloe’s position. For a moment, her panic and the turmoil of her emotions made her loose focus. The power, ever fickle, danced away. With a stern measure of control she forced it back. In the central garden of her keep, the air began to shimmer and glow.
~~~
The ride was laced with reckless abandon. The silvery horses, sensing their rider’s distress, sped over clotted forest ground with little regard for the obstacles in their way. The birds flew overhead, squawking angrily, riled past their ability to easily calm. Victoria felt much the same. Her mind raced in endless circles.
Over and over she pictured the bow in her hands crashing against the ruined face of the huntsman. She saw Aloe lose her veneer of civilization, lashing out at her opponents like a cornered animal. A dangerous wild animal who had taken three lives in her frenzy to defend herself and her pack. Victoria had taken one and could not erase the look of her victim’s face
from her mind. But there was also a thrill. A cry of victory that bubbled deep down within her. She had taken the fight for her freedom into her own hands and for one tiny moment, victory had been hers. Okar had saved the small company from the spells of the Unseelie hunters.
She had saved Okar from the executioner’s sword. She felt as if for the first time she had actually hefted some share of the responsibility for her welfare.
The bloodying of her hands was a shock she could recover from.
Aloe rode slightly ahead of her, nocked bow in her hands. Keirom rode in much the same manner, only he held his weapon in one hand and the reins to Okar’s horse in the other. Victoria was lucky to hold herself on the convoluted ride. Keirom was shielding them again.
She could feel the dim hum of his magic surrounding them. By the looks on his and Aloe’s faces, they held little hope that a mere obscuring spell would help them avoid forces that by now knew exactly what part of the Alkeri’na they traveled.
The lead horse, Keirom’s, suddenly shied, tossing its head in surprise. Aloe thundered past him, scanning the wood for sign of any enemy. Her bow string was taut. The path before her horse began to waver. The forest seemed to melt away and there was a darker patch of color displayed within a ragged hole of reality.
A portal had been opened. Aloe cried out in dismay, aiming her arrow directly into the apparition. Keirom followed suit.
The great hunt did not explode outwards at them. A single breeze buffeted figure hovered at the edge of the gateway.
One hand lifted in an abrupt gesture. A voice hissed in urgency.
“Hurry.”
Aloe’s aim faltered. The bow dropped and with sudden alacrity she kicked her mount forward. It unerringly leapt through the portal. The other animals, encouraged by Aloe’s crowded each other to follow suit. The birds swooped low, gliding over Keirom’s head and disappeared through the hole.
Victoria knew the voice and figure that stepped back to allow them entry. She caught sight of dread-filled, frantic eyes and felt her own pulse begin to race in earnest anticipation. She was the last through the portal. It snapped shut on the very tail of her horse and she found herself sitting in the centermost garden of Ashara’s keep. Ashara herself was pushing her way through sweating horse bodies, crying out in dismay as she reached the still form of her mate.
Victoria’s world reeled. Fainting would have been a relief. She would not have had to deal with Ashara’s anger, or worse yet, her grief. The confusion of the wakened Seelies drifting into the courtyard to find out what the disturbance was about. She slipped down from her horse and stood leaning against it, watching as Okar was cut free and gently lifted down. His mate bent over him, hands on his face. Neira’sha came from somewhere, voicing quiet orders. They lifted Okar and took him away. Aloe and Keirom were the center of a curious sidhe crowd. Victoria buried her face in the shoulder of her mount and tried to calm her breathing.
It resounded inside her again. The accusation. It was her fault. Her fault. On her shoulders. Sooner or later the Seelies would get around to placing blame where blame belonged.
~~~
The ogres came en masse. They came straight from the mountainous recesses of the Desney range, rough and savage in their demeanor. They did not possess the veneer of civilization that Azeral’s keep-bound troops exhibited. They snarled and fought amongst each other, clashing like rogue bulls fighting over territory. Their uproar could be heard deep within the walls of the keep. It took all of the sidhe’s concentration to bend the savage wills to their purpose. Some long ago oath of loyalty had brought them here – magic would shape them into proper forces for the Unseelie lord.
Alex watched from battlements overlooking the outer courtyard and shivered. The hunt, in all its depravity, was a controlled force. What milled down there was chaos. It was destruction leashed only by the strength of will of the sidhe who attempted to bind them. It was, Alex thought, uncalled for. There had been a battle in the forest. He had heard that rumor. Members of the court had been hurt. The Unseelies, who had interest in finding Victoria only to appease their Lord’s desperation, now seethed with righteous indignation that anyone had dared attack one of their number.
Anticipation was ripe in the air. They spoke in heated tones of past wrongs done them by members of the Seelie court. Things past a thousand years were as fresh in their minds as yesterday’s weather. They spoke of war as if it were a game too long overdue.
Victoria was Azeral’s concern. The excuse to plague the Seelies was the court’s aphrodisiac. Half of the great hunt was back at Azeral’s order, armoring themselves and preparing to order lesser forces. Azeral had already opened a gateway and sent the first of his ogre forces through it. To where, Alex had no notion, but he guessed the destination to be close to the far away Seelie court.
Every instinct he possessed clamored over and over at him that Azeral had no intention of honoring his request. That the promise the Unseelie lord had made him was no more than words to pacify his worry. To get him out of the way while Azeral did exactly as he pleased. The doubts came hard. He wanted to trust Azeral. He wanted to believe that what was done had merit and purpose. Azeral’s wisdom was ageless and not to be doubted.
Another part of him instinctively hammered away at the devotion.
Screamed desperately at him that those were the thoughts Azeral wished him to have. That he never forget the overwhelming blockage that Azeral had placed in his head. He ‘knew’ it was there. He surreptitiously felt along its edges every day and still he had to fight to dredge up even small disfavor with his host. It was maddening.
He drifted down from the battlements along the outer stairwell and ended up in the turmoil of the courtyard. A mass of confusion greeted him. Great ogre bodies milled like herd animals. He kept them at a distance. A slight aversion magic. Their minds were easy to invade. They moved from his path, not even guessing why they did. It was another stolen skill. The sidhe were stingy in their lessons, so he picked up things on his own.
Weapons clinked and he started. A stockpile of axes and spike lined clubs were being distributed. The ogres demonstrated their prowess with glee against each other. Troops preparing for war. War. His nightmares used to revolve around it.
Leanan, if nothing else, had stopped that plague. But he still dreaded the thought of it. Of uninhibited combat. Of wholesale bloodshed without a care or a conscious. That was what was expected in war. Morality was not an excepted word.
A small figure darted past him, carrying an overwhelming armful of weapons. It hesitated, then stopped, whirling to pin him with its beady stare.
The eyes were all that were visible above the pile of weapons. They were crowned by a overhanging slab of bristly flesh.
“Lookin’ to join the campaign ‘gainst the Seelies, human?” a gravely, sneering voice questioned. Alex blinked at the little man in bewilderment. Was the creature offering him a weapon?
He shook his head slowly and an explosive snort escaped the other’s lips.
“Can’t see why not, since I figure you’re mostly ta blame for it.” Alex gaped, more confused by the moment.
“What are you talking about?”
The little man turned and stalked away without answering. Alex stood for a dumbfounded second, then followed. The weapons were dumped unceremoniously on the decreasing stack that supplied the ogres. The little man turned around. He was a spriggan. Alex was hardly adept at telling one spriggan from the next. His association had been strictly with sidhe and bendithy servants. But he thought this one might possibly be the one who had brought him to this keep in the first place.
“Bashru?”
The spriggan sniffed and brushed past him, going most likely for another armful of weapons. Alex caught the bony shoulder and demanded.
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
The spriggan snarled at him, lips drawing back from yellowed, carnivore teeth. “Nasty hands off, human!”
Alex kept his hold, contemplati
ng magic to force an answer. The sidhe had affected him that much, that he was willing to bend another will to his own by simple right of power. But he had no need, for the spriggan spat at him, “Girl came ‘cause of you and left ‘cause of you. Now his Lordship is willin’ to tear the world apart to get her back.”
“That’s not true. He’s worried for her safety. She’s not thinking right.”
A harsh laugh escaped the little man.
“Who been meddlin’ in your head, human? He sent the assassin after her. If she lasts the week the fates will have shined on her. All this is just in case the Ciagenii fails.”
Alex released him, stunned. “No. He said he wouldn’t harm her.” He looked around in desperation at the troops and had no easy explanation for their existence. They were an appeasement to the court. An appeasement that entailed taking war to their ancient enemies. But not to Victoria. She would be safe from harm. Azeral had promised.
He did not quite flee. He felt the spriggan’s scorn at his back though. He found the closest entrance to the keep proper and used it, relieved to be back inside the shadowed coolness of age old stone.
Azeral would not lie to him. Azeral was to be trusted. Azeral’s purpose was for the benefit of his world. His people.
Azeral had violently snatched him from his own world. He had taken Victoria and thrust her into this mad swirl of events. But for a purpose. Alex searched his memory for what that purpose was. What had Azeral told him?
Earth magic disrupting the worlds in its disuse. He needed a human magic wielder to relieve the pressure. Yet, he had asked Alex for great usages of power infrequently. How did such a minimal use of human magic of his human power alleviate a situation that had been festering for centuries?
He squeezed his eyes shut, head pounding. No matter how desperately he clawed at the coiling thing inside his head, he could not dislodge it. He could not shake the obstinate refusal to rebel against Azeral. Even thinking about it hurt.