by Liz de Jager
‘I have done what any would have done in my place,’ I say carefully. ‘I accept your friendship and pledge and return it with friendship of my own.’ I get the impression they approve of my words and I put on a smile that I hope is charming and sweet, and not at all frightened.
‘You have brought us something?’
Thorn looks towards them, facing the largest so probably the eldest. ‘I have indeed. A token of our esteem and thanks for seeing us on such short notice. We hope it finds favour with the Watchers.’
Thorn holds out his hand to me and I pass him half the baggie of diamonds Aiden had given me. Amy moves forward and takes the velvet pouch from Thorn. Without looking inside, she juggles it in her hand, feeling the weight of the stones, and gives a brief nod to the trolls.
‘You do us a great honour, Prince of Alba.’ The voice is different now, female and younger. It also conveys far more emotion and I watch the trolls, wondering which one of them is speaking.
I get the impression that our gift has more than impressed them and they are suddenly more attentive and focused on us. I suspect we’ve passed some kind of test. Previously their regard has been intense but disinterested; now, however, we are the centre of their attention.
‘We have prepared a small repast. Please follow the human child and we will join you shortly. There is much to discuss.’
The larger of the three trolls starts moving off and the scent of fresh-cut grass fills the air in his wake. From above a shadow passes over the gap in the ceiling and the cave darkens and the temperature drops. I shiver and turn to look towards the gap. I rest my hand on the knife tucked into the small of my back and wonder what bad news is coming our way.
Amy disappears the velvet pouch among the folds of her pretty sundress and beckons us to follow her. I fall in beside Thorn.
‘That went well,’ I say. ‘I still have all my limbs.’
He pulls a face. ‘My formal manners are rusty,’ he says. ‘With the old races, like the trolls, you can’t ever be sure how things are going to play out until you are at least three days’ ride away from their caves.’
‘Oh great. I’m nervous all over again.’
‘Don’t be,’ he says. ‘You’re doing well. They know who you are. As a Blackhart and my friend you’re far more than the average supplicant.’
‘You make these trolls sound far more . . .’ I wave my hand. ‘Just more. Who are they really?’
Thorn slows his pace so we drop further behind Amy.
‘They are our Watchers, our chroniclers. They write our histories and watch over our past, anticipating the future.’
My eyebrows shoot up. ‘So they don’t just live in caves, eat goats and humans and worry bridges.’
‘No. Not all of them are like that, only the ones that feel up to the task. Most trolls live quiet lives. They’ve become vilified in various stories and it’s hard to convince the world otherwise.’
‘Okay. So noted.’ I can’t help but bristle a bit under the censure in his voice. I also wonder how much of what he said pertains to him and the Fae in general.
I shake my head. I’m starting to feel a bit out of my league here and I find myself wishing dearly for a decent fight. Those I can handle; dangerous subtleties make me feel uncertain and trapped.
Amy eventually stops and gestures us to enter a smaller cave ahead. We do and I gasp involuntarily.
A heavy chandelier is suspended above a vast black table that reflects the light of a thousand diamonds. The entire cave is encrusted with precious stones and the chandelier itself is a dripping cascade of large gems.
We sit and the chairs are large, leaving my feet dangling in mid-air. It’s like something from Alice in Wonderland after Alice has drunk the shrinking potion.
The trolls enter and move forward to seat themselves with ponderous grace. Amy is dismissed as they settle themselves.
‘The situation in Alba is dire,’ one of them utters sonorously.
The acoustics in the cave are superb, the way a cathedral’s acoustics amplify a soft sigh, but even so it takes me a second to realize they’re talking aloud, not in my head this time. I sigh in relief and relax, crossing my legs on the huge chair, feeling ridiculously at home in this cavern that, although vast, feels cosy and I wonder if it has something to do with the strangely calming presence of the three trolls.
‘We have had reports from far and wide, telling of the coup against the House of Alba. It took some time to weigh the value of this knowledge and we will happily now share this with you.’
Thorn looks grateful but composes himself as he sits forward. ‘My father will hear of your assistance in this. Do you know where the royal household has retired to?’
‘We do not, we are sad to say. We know your brother Kieran is housed in cells beneath the Citadel. He is alive but badly hurt.’
Thorn takes the confirmation of Scarlet’s information calmly enough but it must be a big blow. ‘Are any of the gateways working?’
‘All twelve Sidhe houses have shut their gateways and some of them have lost control of them entirely. The smaller pathways are inaccessible, except for those Fae who are small and very fast.’
There is movement behind the trolls in the shadows but it’s gone too quickly to see what it was. I assume there are bats in the caves. The thought alone makes me shudder. I can cope with all kinds of nasties but bats freak me out.
The female troll speaks up and her voice is wonderful aloud, beautiful and rich. ‘Powerful sorcery is at work, assisting Eadric against his brother.’
‘Any clues as to who it could be? The sorcerer, I mean. He was strong enough to bring a dragon into our realm. Surely that’s not something just anyone can do?’ My voice gives away my anxiety, it’s too loud in the hushed space, and I take a breath, before speaking more quietly. ‘There must be some way we can find out.’
Time slows inexplicably and unexpectedly as the shadows behind the trolls coalesce into the shape of a man; all in black leather, his face is hidden behind a black scarf. A stupidly large flintlock pistol is pointed unwavering at my head and in his other hand he grips Amy as he scans the room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Before any of us can move, the stranger utters a guttural sequence of words that makes my ears itch. The lights dim momentarily before brightening again.
The onset of tiredness is so sudden that my head droops forward and hits my chest. Instinctively, my hand moves to grasp my sword, but it feels inappropriate for someone as tired as I am, and I allow my hand to drop.
I want to slump to the table and sleep as I’m sure I’ve never had a decent sleep in all my life. As the thought lingers in my tired brain, Thorn grabs my wrist and pinches me hard.
The spell breaks as quickly as it fell. I sit up in surprise, this time reaching for my sword in earnest.
‘No, not a good idea.’ The stranger’s voice is soft and intimate and I can hear the sound of teeth in the smile I can’t see. A gesture from him with the pistol and energy sparks off my sword pommel. I pull my hand away in shock, my nerve-endings tingling unpleasantly. ‘Sit quietly, there’s a good girl.’
Whatever spell the newcomer cast as he walked into the cavern has completely immobilized the trolls. They seem unable to move at all, but I can sense their fury at the intrusion.
The man poses dramatically before us, his actions strangely exaggerated. I even wonder through the adrenalin in my veins if he’s drunk. Then he twists Amy’s arm savagely and pushes her forward, so that they can move closer towards us. Her eyes are wide but not panicked. No, she looks pissed and I like her just that tiny bit more than before.
‘I’ve been sent to bring you home,’ the intruder says to Thorn. ‘If you come quietly neither of the humans will get hurt.’
Thorn stares at him, puzzled. ‘Who are you?’
The chuckle is friendly, disarming. ‘How haven’t you guessed?’ He pulls the scarf away from his face, revealing beautifully sculpted features with skin as smooth as
black marble.
Thorn clearly can’t believe his eyes. ‘Ioric?’
‘Surprised?’ Ioric moves closer and I pull my sleeves down over my hands to grip my sword as I stand. No little electric shock will prevent me from grabbing it again.
‘What are you doing here? Let the girl go and drop your pistol.’
‘No.’ I can hear the smugness in his voice. Whoever he is, he seems to be revelling in his moment of power. ‘Definitely not. Tell your human girl to put her sword on the table where I can see it. Make her keep her hands visible at all times. You know I am an excellent shot.’
Thorn gives me a reluctant nod and I obey, while wishing looks could kill this Ioric.
‘I don’t think my father sent you,’ Thorn says. ‘So who did?’
‘Another interested party. I’m shocked that you’re even here, not with your family.’ He wiggles the pistol and it sways alarmingly between us. ‘Oh, I know. You don’t know where they’ve gone, do you? And no one bothered telling you. Could it be that no one remembered you even existed?’
As Thorn moves to square up to Ioric, I feel a sudden burst of alarm for him, despite his Fae powers.
‘Ioric, why have you come here? Like this?’ He nods to the immobile trolls. ‘What have you done to the Watchers?’
‘Them? They’re fine. You really should be more concerned about yourself, my friend.’
‘You still haven’t answered me, my friend. What are you doing here?’
As Thorn asks this, he gestures widely towards Ioric. The tingle across my skin tells me magic’s in play and I’m just in time to see a flash of power hit Ioric in the arm. His pistol goes off and drops to the floor. Something zips past my face, close enough to leave a burning streak along my cheek. I duck and swivel on instinct, grabbing my sword, and spin from the table towards Ioric.
Amy’s in my way as he shoves her at me and turns to face an unarmed Thorn. Ioric’s hands are bare of weapons and I find it strange that he’s not drawn one of the knives that I see strapped to his back.
‘Thorn. Let’s not play this game. You must know that you’re not really facing Ioric.’ This time the voice is definitely not that of Ioric. It’s older, the tone serious and a bit weary . . . it sounds familiar.
‘I know.’ Thorn takes a step towards him. ‘Who are you? And what have you done to my friend?’
There’s a wet wrenching sound and Ioric arches back, letting rip a scream filled with blood and pain.
‘Stay where you are, boy. I can do worse.’ I stiffen at the danger in the air when he shifts his attention towards me briefly. His gaze narrows before dismissing me as being of little consequence. He focuses on Thorn and the smile he gives is a smile I’m sure Ioric’s never given in real life. It just looks nasty, with too much teeth by far. ‘Oh, he’s here, tucked away. I’m just enjoying the ride. Now, will you come of your own free will – or do I make you?’
‘No.’ Thorn glances at me, and I nod slightly in support. ‘I can’t do that. You will surrender and just perhaps my father will extend his mercy.’
Thorn’s words are ignored, and Ioric’s eyes gleam with borrowed malevolence. ‘What if I let Ioric speak to you directly? Perhaps he can convince you outright, without my interference?’
Thorn moves at the same time as the sorcerer withdraws from Ioric. A shiver goes through the possessed Sidhe warrior and he drops to the floor with a grunt, like a puppet whose strings have been severed, a thick stream of blood spilling from his mouth.
‘Help him,’ I shout without thinking and we both rush towards the fallen Fae. I kneel beside him and pull him towards me as Thorn tilts his head sideways so he doesn’t swallow any more of his own blood.
‘Gaia’s wounds, Ioric. What has he done to you?’
‘Don’t,’ Ioric gasps out. ‘Don’t go with him.’ He bucks under my hands as if he’s having some kind of fit and I have to use all my might to hold him. ‘I can’t stop him, Thorn. He’s everywhere inside me, tearing me apart. He has my mother. He has my sisters . . . You have to stay free and save them.’
‘Who?’ Thorn demands, ‘Tell me who is doing this to you, Ioric.’
‘Can’t.’ Blood bubbles on his lips. ‘I’m under a geas and he’s too strong.’ His body twists violently, there’s blood everywhere and he now looks positively insane with pain. ‘But your parents . . . He can’t stop me telling you where they are. Get back to the Frontier. They are camped in Scotland with an army. Find them at the fairgrounds. In the Cairngorms.’
Ioric lets out a violent cry and I’m sure I hear something wrench in his back. He relaxes so abruptly that I lose my grip on him and am then thrown aside as the sorcerer resumes control.
Ioric snaps upright like a jack-in-the-box. It’s a movement so unnatural that I get goosebumps and I feel real fear.
‘Enough talk.’ The sorcerer is back in charge. He gestures towards Thorn. ‘Come. Now is the time to save your friend and do as I command.’
Thorn’s sword now points directly at Ioric’s throat. ‘Never. You won’t get away with this, know that. I will make sure you are hunted to the ends of all the worlds.’
‘Ioric’ smiles. ‘I’ll take that as a definite “no”.’
It happens so quickly I don’t have the chance to turn away or rush at Amy to cover her eyes.
The man controlling Ioric reaches for one of his knives and draws it swiftly across his own throat. The slit is deep and the gush of blood transfixes us all.
My shocked gasp echoes around the room. Thorn is swiftly back by his friend’s side, on his knees, cradling Ioric in his arms, his expression heartbreaking. He tries to stem the flow of blood but it runs over his hands like a river, staining them red.
Amy shows us the way out. She’s given us new clothes to replace our bloodstained ones but I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean again. The door she opens for us is on the side of a building and it takes me a few seconds to work out where we are. We’ve emerged next to Covent Garden piazza. It’s dusk and soft incessant drizzle falls from a grey sky. There are still tourists and office workers around, but the rain has kept many away.
Amy gives me a quick fierce hug and I’m touched. When she turns to Thorn she starts to sink into a curtsy, but he shakes his head briefly and she runs to hug him too.
‘Kill them all,’ she says to him, her voice vibrating with feeling.
She turns back to me and passes me the small velvet pouch.
‘My masters are embarrassed about what’s happened. They are closing the entrance here and won’t be back until they can guarantee the safety of their guests. They’ve decided to return the gift you brought them. They don’t think they deserve it.’
I open my mouth to argue but Thorn gives Amy a quick bow. ‘Thank you, Amy. Tell your masters they have honoured their word to us and we look forward to meeting with them again under better circumstances.’
With a final wave, she shuts the door to leave us standing in the middle of the West End, feeling completely disconnected from our surroundings.
‘How are you doing?’ I ask Thorn, and when he looks at me his expression is thoughtful.
‘I’m not sure,’ he admits. ‘A lot has just happened.’
I nod and sigh, popping my hood back up. ‘I’m really sorry about your friend,’ I say. ‘And things were going so well for about five minutes. At least we know where to go from here.’
His expression is miserable. ‘Within a very short space of time, a lot of people I care about have been attacked, turned and killed. Or tried to kill me. Now that we know where my parents are, maybe I should go, leave you and Aiden here. It may be for the best.’
‘And what? Do you have money?’ I ask him. ‘How are you getting to Scotland? Are you going to fly? Have you got super-secret faery wings you’ve not told me about? I’ve seen you without your shirt on, matey – there were no wings. So, will you take a bus up? All that metal – it will be like being in a cage for hours on end. Just think about it, all those people pres
sing close, drinking coffee and talking to you. If you want to do that, just say. I know where the buses leave from.’
‘You really are quite dramatic, Kit Blackhart,’ he says, a ghost of a smile on his face. ‘If you don’t want me to go, just say so.’
‘Don’t be an idiot, Thorn. You’re free to leave if you want. But think about it: without money or a clue, you’re not going to get very far.’
‘You are, of course, correct,’ he admits grudgingly. ‘But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.’
I grimace. ‘And whoever controlled Ioric said he knows where we are. I don’t feel safe out here in the open. Let’s get moving. There must be somewhere I can phone Aiden from to come and collect us.’
I stay close to Thorn as we make our way through the thinning crowd. Our weapons are wrapped up, courtesy of Amy, so that we look as if we’re carrying poster tubes; a bit bulky but perfectly disguised.
Luckily we don’t have to wander too far before I spot a red phone box. Once utilitarian, now rare and developing tourist attraction status.
‘Why don’t you grab us something to drink?’ I ask Thorn, gesturing to a cafe. ‘I could do with a coffee. Also something to eat – maybe a pastry?’ He seems bemused by the money I hand him but heads off to do my bidding.
The streets here are far quieter but in the phone box I turn my back to the world so I can have some privacy. I close my eyes to business cards of partially naked women offering various services in various languages.
The phone rings twice before Aiden comes on the line. ‘Er, hi?’
‘It’s me, wolf boy. We’re in Covent Garden. Come find us. Near the Transport Museum.’
‘How’d you get there?’ he half yells. ‘I’ve been going crazy. The gate and everything just disappeared after you guys went down to that little beach. I’ve been waiting for hours. I’ve even got a mate driving me around to see if we can find you.’
‘It’s magic!’ I say like a panto-clown but the smile I’m trying to put in my voice just doesn’t make it.
He groans under his breath at my lame attempt at humour. ‘I’ll see you soon. We’re about five minutes away.’