A Tale of Two Kingdoms (Knights of Black Swan, Book 6)

by Danann, Victoria

  She turned her head and said, “Ew. No. Morning breath.”

  He said, “I don’t care,” and started to gather her close when she simply disappeared out of his arms. “Hey! No fair!”

  He heard her giggle in the bath when the water came on. They were lucky to get a room with a bath. He threw back the covers and stood up, intending to stomp after her and show her who was boss, but was stifled by a gasp. The shock of the cold air in the room momentarily froze him in place. He looked down and realized that his privates had shriveled to miniature replicas of themselves and decided that he’d rather not present himself to Rosie in that condition after all.

  She opened the bathroom door and looked at him with a question on her face.

  “Cold,” was all he could offer.

  She laughed at him. “Get in the bed, big baby. I know how to fix that.” Gently pushing him back under the covers, she eased her body on top of him. “You are cold.”

  He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

  “How can you possibly be so warm?”

  As she began moving her body back and forth over his, creating the most delicious friction, she kissed the hollow of his throat, raised up and gave him a smile that was erotic and evil at the same time. “Maybe I have hellfire and brimstone in my veins, just like the Dante myths.”

  The light that originated behind his eyes was trained on her like a beam and made her catch her breath. She was sure that what she was seeing was what love looked like.

  “Maybe, but it feels like heaven. So I don’t care. Just keep doing that.”

  As he slid his ice cold hands over the cheeks of her exquisitely curved derriere she jumped straight up with an, “Eek!”

  He laughed, grabbed her around the middle with both arms and rolled her onto her back. “You got something for me?”

  “Thanks to your magical womanly warming techniques, I do have something for you. You want it?”

  She grinned. “Only if you can manage with no hands.”

  “No hands, huh?”

  “Let me see what I can do about that.”

  The people in the room next door, who would have liked to sleep for another hour, might venture to say that Glen was a capable companion with or without hands. At least from the sound of things.

  The cliffs were so windy Glen was afraid Rosie was going to blow right off. He supposed she could manage even if that did happen, but he was having to consciously work to stay upright.

  He thought she was a good sport to agree to combine an investigation with a getaway. Of course there was always a chance that his lead was another dead end, in which case he would have to say that the only thing he had to show for his trouble was a fine few days with his sweet Rosie and some very happy balls. Though he would certainly omit the last of that when he reported to Rosie’s auntie, the Lady Laiken.

  The weather had turned cooler than normal and they had rummaged through the backpacks to layer clothes. The plan was for Rosie to transport herself out to the distant island, barely visible in the mists, so that she could spot the entrance to the fabled Ogram’s cave where the hermit was purported to live. If she could find it, she would return for Glen and they would go together.

  It was a plan custom designed to deflate a young man’s ego, but it was also the most practical so Glen had to agree that sense trumped pride.

  “Back in a flash.”

  She gave him a big kiss on the cheek and was gone. It only took Rosie a second to locate two shadows that could be possible targets. The first was only a shadow. The second was a cave, but only three feet deep. However, once at the entrance to that cave, it was possible to see another that was entirely obscured by a limestone lip that curved downward from a shelf above. It matched the description Glen gave her. She switched on the light, did a quick sweep, and went back for Glen knowing he’d be anxious.

  He jumped when she materialized next to him, but at least didn’t yelp. Thankfully.

  She looked serious and started to shake her head.

  His shoulders slumped a little. “Okay, well, it’s just…”

  She grinned. “It’s there. Come on.”

  “What?”

  He didn’t have time to switch gears before he was standing inside the head of the cave.

  “This is it, right?”

  He couldn’t see Rosie’s face because the light was to her back.

  “I think so.”

  He fumbled in his pack, retrieved a contraption with duct tape sticking out everywhere, and secured it to his head. Rosie was fascinated and hadn’t yet decided whether she was going to laugh or worry.

  “What is that?”

  Glen made an adjustment on his forehead and then switched the thing on. The cave was flooded with light. “Oh. I didn’t like any of the ‘head lights’,” he used air quotes, “on the market. This gives us a good six hours. It’s a bike light. Nice, huh? A NiteRider 350, and a… um, jock strap. Look at that.”

  She smiled to herself, thinking it was hard to argue with results. “So what now?”

  “Well, I guess we go further in? See if we can find the…”

  “Hermit.”

  “Yeah. The hermit.”

  “You think there really is a hermit?”

  “Well, the thing was right about the cave.”

  “The thing?”

  He waved the paper in his hand. As they moved deeper into the cave the light from the entrance faded away as did the sounds of both wind and North Atlantic waves crashing into the cliff sides below. “Got a copy right here from Puddephatt. Claims the foremost authority on the subject of elf/fae history is this cave-dwelling hermit. Oral tradition.”

  “Oral tradition,” she said drily. “Yes, but Glen. How would this hermit get in and out? What does he do for supplies? It would take hours to scale the cliffs and be almost impossible to do alone. Unless you think he has a part Elemental delivery service?”

  Glen stopped and, when he turned to face her, she squinted when the light shone straight in her eyes.

  “Oops. Sorry.” He pushed the light to the side so that he could face her without blinding her. “Why did you assume he’s human? Maybe he’s like you.”

  She looked around and raised her eyebrows. “Then why would he live here? It’s bloody cold. You know? Did you bring hand warmers?”

  “No. Here.” He blew on her fingers while he was considering why anyone would live there. “I don’t know why anybody would want to be a hermit much less why one would want to live in a cold cave.” He stopped and held up a hand. “Shhhh.”

  They heard something like a pebble falling followed by a deep, but pleasant voice that sounded unmistakably amused. “Cause I like it here.” Glen’s head jerked in the direction of the sound and the light found the figure of an attractive elf who appeared fortyish, wearing jeans, a black tee, and biker boots. He was showing a couple days growth of blonde beard and his light curls were pulled back behind his ears. “You wantin’ to see me?”

  Glen felt Rosie crowd close against his back. “Ah. We did. Um. Do. If that’s okay. If you’re the, ah, hermit?”

  The elf rubbed a hand over his scratchy face and smiled. “Hermit, is it?”

  “We must be in the wrong place.”

  “Who sent ye?”

  “Puddephatt.”

  “Bugger.”

  “We’ll just be going.”

  “So I’m thinkin’ you two are no’ only young, but naive as well.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Why are you thinkin’ men become hermits?”

  Rosie poked her head around Glen’s shoulder. “Because they don’t like people.”

  “Aye. So, that bein’ the case, what were you thinkin’ would be in store if you went callin’ uninvited on someone who’s an introvert to the third power? Tea and crumpets?”

  “I’d like some,” Rosie said.

  “He’s not offering, Rosie. He’s being facetious,” Glen said without taking his eyes off the elf.

 
“Still sounds good. I could use a hot tea.” She shivered visibly.

  The elf’s mouth might have twitched just a little. “Well, had ye thought it through? What was your plan? And, for that matter, why are ye here?”

  “Look. We’re not spelunkers and we don’t work for “I Wanna Know”. We’re here on an important errand for information that, apparently, only you have.” Glen could feel Rosie shivering more against his back. The hermit was wearing a short sleeved shirt while appearing as warm as if he was in the tropics. “I guess it’s part of the hermit job description to be rude so as to discourage guests.”

  “Guests?” He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re thinkin’?” He tried to peer around Glen to see Rosie better. “So what have you there behind you, young inquisitor?”

  Glen scowled at the question and was just about to tell Rosie to get them out of there. “Seriously, we…”

  “Name’s Finrar. Now you’re here, you may as well get what you came for. Follow me.”

  He turned and walked away, leaving Glen wondering whether they should stay or go.

  “Rosie, what do you think?”

  Squeezed against his back, he felt her life her shoulder and drop it. “We can just go, pfffft pffffft if we don’t like the direction of things.”

  “Okay. I like the way you think, but stay close because only you can go pfffft pfffft.”

  Soon the uneven rocky floor of the cave opened up to a flat sandy tunnel. They entered a light-filled chamber that was warm and comfortable.

  The elf motioned for them to sit on a smooth limestone ledge. “Underground hot springs.”

  Rosie looked around. “Do you scale the cliffs every time you need food or supplies?”

  The elf looked her up and down then waved his hand in the air. “There’s another way in.”

  “Oh?”

  “Hmmm. Tunnel access by a door in the side of a hillen. ‘Tis well-concealed.”

  “Oh.”

  He smiled. “Does no’ sound as glamorous or dangerous as a hermit scalin’ the cliffs with meager stores for his inhospitable seaside cave?”

  “Well, no. It doesn’t.”

  “Exactly right.”

  “I see.”

  “So tell me why that old rat catcher sent you ‘round here?”

  Glen cleared his throat. “I’m on an errand for a knight of The Order of the Black Swan. Puddephatt said for me to tell you that.” Finrar licked his bottom lip and nodded. “I’m to learn why the elves and fae are at war. No one seems to know. Every time I think I’m headed in the direction of a promising theory, it proves misleading. Puddephatt says that, if anyone knows, it’s you.”

  The elf’s eyes flicked to Rosie.

  “I’m Glendennon Catch, by the way. I work for The Order. This is Rosie Storm. Her dad is a knight emeritus. Her mom is still on the payroll. Magick.”

  “Well, Rosie. I do no’ have crumpets, but I could fire a pot of tea. As to you, Catch, what I have to give ye is the tale of how the Great War came to be. I can no’ say ‘tis fact. I can only say that, like most thin’s called historical, ‘tis a good measure of truth to be found within. If ye will have what I offer, I will give it.”

  “The words life and death were not used to describe the importance of my mission, but it was impressed upon me that the outcome is urgent. There’s no doubt in my mind that the Lady Laiken needs us to return with anything we can learn. Whatever you have is treasure.”

  “Aye. Well, my experience with knights of The Order is that they have a leanin’ towards the drama, as you may have noticed yourselves.”

  Glen’s mouth fell open and he started to rise up in defense of all Black Swan knights, but Rosie grasped him by the arm with both hands and kept him sitting.

  CHAPTER 3

  In a short time, Finrar brought her tea made from leaves in a cup that appeared to be old hammered pewter. He handed her a small cloth to use for grasping the handle so she wouldn’t burn herself and took a seat across from them.

  “Does no’ take long to tell ‘cause very little of the detail is still known. ‘Twas a long time ago. There were annals o’course, but nothin’ remains of them.

  “Have you ever heard of the Danu?”

  Glen looked at Rosie. She shook her head. Glen turned back to Finrar and shook his head no.

  “The children of Danu had migrated to this world and set up a colony in what is now the north of Wales. The country was rough and tumble, but that suited the Dana fine. They liked roasted meat and liquid spirits and they were right handy with song and dance, but they could also be a fierce bunch and were ready to fight at the blink of an eye.

  “There was a place of witches in the Britons in those days. You might even say it was an Order. Some of those witches took a likin’ to the Dana, thought we were magical or some such.” He gave Rosie his boyish smile, so fetching, as if to say he knew full well why those witches thought they were magical. He was making a halfhearted attempt at pretending humility for courtesy’s sake.

  “When stories about Romans began to reach the western lands, the Dana paid no mind. Enemies are a fact of life like bugs and the occasional limp cock, so I hear, but the witches were alarmed and kept insistin’ that the Romans were a great plague runnin’ deep and wide. After a time they convinced the Dana to move the colony to an island in the middle of the Irish Sea where the witches could keep them safe. Once there, the ladies brought up a mist to shield the island from discovery.

  “As the story goes, the mist provided an ideal hidin’ place for creatures such as Dana and practices such as sorcery. But it also formed a sort of shield against inclement weather, like a sort of insular dome, good for growin’ all manner of food, particularly apples.

  “The Dana made good use of their time there. They learned Anglish.” He smiled. “Even if they put their own stamp on it by retainin’ the cadence of the old language. They shared their games and festivals and sacred observances with the witches, and the witches taught the females healin’ and sight . Life was simple, quiet, and good.

  “Within a few years the chief’s mate bore twin sons. Twins were unheard of among the children of Danu, but no one thought anythin’ of it except to see it as twice blessed.

  “The boys, princes, were named Galfine and Galfae. Beautiful as the sun with eyes the color of the sea and hair shot through with streaks of rust and copper. They got on well with the other young ones and were everythin’ the royal pair could ever have wished for.

  “All was well until the boys were in the late part of their twenty-fourth year. They were struck by the matin’ instinct at the same time. Now, normally, ‘tis an occasion for rejoicin’, but…”

  “It was a woman,” Glen said. “It’s always a woman.”

  “Oh, what rot!” Rosie countered. “Shut up and let him finish the story.”

  “As I was sayin’, and it sounds like you’re both ahead of me, naturally the boys were both drawn to the same female. The new way of sayin’ it is that they both originated from the same egg that split in two. The old way of sayin’ it was that they were of the same heart and mind.”

  “What did the girl do?”

  “Ah, the young female. Garineen. A tragic victim is what she was, susceptible to the same matin’ impulse as the princes. She loved the both, no’ one more than the other and could no’ choose between them. It was breakin’ her heart to see them fallin’ out on her account. Thinkin’ she could stop the feud by removin’ herself from the equation, she had one o’ the witches cast a spell to disguise her so that she would be invisible to them.

  “I would like to tell you that the story ended there, with the ruin of three lives, but sadly that was no’ the way of it. When the lads deduced that the object of their affection had been hidden by magical means and could no’ be found, well… I was told that they were so enraged that their fury made the seas boil and the earth tremble, but I suspect that part was poetic embellishment.

  “The brothers regarded each other with a
hatred so complete they could no’ tolerate the idea of occupyin’ the same land mass. ‘Twas at that point the children of Danu split into factions. Some sailed to the west with Galfine and claimed Ireland for their own. Some sailed to the east with Galfae and claimed Scotia for their own. A few stayed on the island of the witches, but no’ many.

  “The fin, or elves, of Ireland taught their children to despise the fae of Scotia and t’other way ‘round. Generations went on, separated by the sea and no desire for contact. The speech gradually became different enough so that the Dana could identify one another as elf or fae on hearin’ the tongue spoken. No doubt both clans are of a mind to believe the differences run deeper than a turn of syllable, but ‘tis all there is to it.

  Glen and Rosie sat for a couple of minutes in silence as if they were waiting for Finrar to say something else. Finally, Glen cleared his throat and asked, “Why do you think more people don’t question the status quo?”

  “Because the thin’ about comfort zones is they’re comfortable. ‘Tis as much philosophy as may be expected from an introverted cave dweller such as myself.”

  Glen understood the cue and stood to leave. “It’s way more than I expected to tell you the truth. We thank you very much for your time and for the information. It was, in fact, exactly what we needed.”

  “Yes,” Rosie said. “Thank you for the tea. And you have a lovely, um, environment.”

  Finrar smiled. “Shall I show you out then?”

  “No. No,” Glen said. “We know the way.”

  “Well, then.”

  “Yep. Going right now. The way we came. Won’t tell a soul we’ve been here.”

  After a minute the echo of footsteps had faded into silence.

  “You can come out now.”

  Deliverance emerged from the shadows. “You know what rhymes with introvert?” Finrar said nothing. “Pervert.”