Thaumatology 11 - For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll

by Teasdale, Niall

  The King was not stupid enough not to know what that meant. ‘I most certainly will, Lady,’ he growled and spurred his horse forward.

  Anann reached down and laid her hand on Michael’s shoulder. ‘Go now, my champion.’ Sweeping around behind her, Michael ran at full speed down the defenders’ line toward Ophelia.

  Finvarra drew his black-bladed weapon and it clashed with Oberon’s sword, a twin of Titania’s. The sound of metal ringing on metal seemed to energise the two lines of troops and they began to charge forward. None would interfere with the fight between the two kings, but they would not stand by and watch either. As they moved, so did Badb and Macha. Badb, Ophelia, marched forward as Michael reached her, raising her arms as she went. Ahead of her the right flank of Finvarra’s army faltered in their charge as fear washed over them like a wave. And behind that wave was another; Michael leading the contingent of wolves, fell upon the scared soldiers with tooth and claw.

  On the left flank there was also an element of faltering, but it was more to do with confusion. What looked like a relatively small, if lithe and attractive, auburn-haired woman was charging toward hundreds of armed men carrying only with a pair of sai. Worse, she had a predatory smile on her face and a wild look in her glowing, red eyes. She reached the front ranks a good twenty yards ahead of the first of Oberon’s soldiers, and the screams could be heard on the palace walls.

  ~~~

  The sounds of battle echoed up from below, but Titania’s eyes were only for the scene of single combat in the middle of it all. Oberon and Finvarra were wheeling about each other, trading blows like mad men.

  As she watched, Anann walked calmly between them, apparently unconcerned by the clashing weapons and the horses’ hooves, to face the oncoming army. She raised her staff, sweeping it left to right in a wide arc, and two trolls and a dozen man were thrown bodily into the air to crash into the body of the left flank a hundred yards away. The attacking force split, flowing around her, and the fight between the kings, apparently taking the hint, and Anann returned her attention to the horsemen.

  She was just in time to see Oberon take a glancing blow across his back which sent him off his horse. Suddenly Finvarra had the advantage.

  Titania turned on her heel. ‘Someone get me my horse!’ she roared, starting for the stairs down. Twill glanced at Ishifa and then took off, heading for Titania’s shoulder. Ishifa let out a squeak and followed suit.

  One of the braver guards attempted to stop his queen. ‘Majesty, the King said that…’

  ‘I am not some simpering maid who sits around sewing while my husband fights for his life. Get me my horse!’

  She seemed oblivious to the two fairies now clinging to her robes. ‘She’ll be safe,’ Twill said. ‘We’ll see to that.’

  The soldier appeared to decide that he was not going to win this one. He bolted down the stairs ahead of the queen as she marched forward, her stride determined.

  ~~~

  Michael’s claws ripped out the throat of a Sidhe warrior and he ran onward, heading inward as the wolves and soldiers behind him rolled onward. Around them, the battle-fear Badb carried around her like a cloak turned skilled, hardened men to cowards and the fight was badly one-sided. Still, the thrill of open battle was coursing through Michael like the longest adrenaline rush ever and he wondered whether he would ever come down from it.

  Across the field, Macha was laying waste to anyone foolish enough to come within range of her weapons. Warriors were running from her, right into the wall of troops following in her wake, only to be cut down anyway. The woman danced through the carnage, a lethal, lithe figure clad in some scraps of leather which barely covered her, leaving headless bodies in her wake. She screamed and laughed through it all wearing a brilliant smile and an expression of sublime insanity.

  The only calm spot on the field was around Anann. Anyone who came too near died. Some were thrown off into the distance, some simply fell to the ground and stopped breathing, others were burned, blasted, even vaporised. One troll, apparently too stupid or too brave to know better, walked up behind her and raised his club to attack her. She blocked his blow as though it were thrown by a child, and then crushed his skull like an egg.

  Oberon dodged under one of Finvarra’s swings and ducked under his horse, an entirely insane move guaranteed to get him kicked in the head, but he pulled it off and his sword slashed through his opponent’s saddle girth as he rolled through. As Finvarra yanked his horse’s head around he let out a loud cry and went over backwards onto the grass, his helmet coming free and bouncing away from him. The saddle fell on his legs and he kicked his way out from under it, scrabbling backward as Oberon yanked the horse clear and started toward him.

  ‘You’re a fool, Finvarra,’ Oberon said, stepping forward. His opponent was scrabbling to gain purchase, dragging his left leg. ‘The Seelie would never accept you as king like this.’

  Finvarra rolled onto his hands and knees, crawling away now. ‘The Unseelie accepted you for four hundred years.’ He rolled back, his left arm flicking out suddenly and Oberon stopped, staggering backward. Looking down he saw the knife sticking out of his stomach, just below the navel.

  ~~~

  Titania rode through the battle flanked by two other horsemen, a white-clad fairy queen astride a white horse. Her silver sword swung periodically as she swept past an enemy warrior, but no one got to swing back at her. On her shoulders, two fairies clung to her robes, their telekinesis magic sweeping out ahead of her and batting aside swords, spears, and anything else which came her way.

  The centre of the field came into view and Titania let out a scream as she saw Oberon staggering backwards and then falling. Even from here Twill could see the dagger hilt sticking out of the king’s stomach. Titania spurred her horse forward, screaming at the top of her lungs, and both fairies could see what she was planning, they lifted off her shoulders as the distance closed, each of them blurring into a blue-white ball of light as they flew alongside the horse, easily able to keep up.

  The white queen moved as she came closer, springing up onto the saddle and then leaping up and forward. Twill and Ishifa swung around her as she flew through the air, their magic balancing her as she fell, and she floated almost delicately to the ground between the two men. Angry red light flickered around Twill and Ishifa as they took up positions to her sides, but Twill glanced around at Anann. The goddess nodded; she would not intervene.

  ‘Titania!’ It was Oberon speaking. None of the women looked around. ‘Leave him to me. Get to safety.’

  ‘Do as your husband says, Lady,’ Finvarra suggested, putting as much sarcasm into the last word as he could. ‘I’ll gut you like a fish and then murder him.’

  ‘Really?’ Titania replied. ‘Try me.’

  Finvarra moved, his left arm swinging around from behind his back. Another knife flew through the air toward the queen’s chest, its thrower charging forward after it. The blade came to a sudden stop two feet from Titania and twisted around, and Finvarra ran straight onto it as he raised his sword. It barely pierced through his clothing, but he gasped in shock, not expecting it, and Titania moved. Her blade scored across Finvarra’s chest, opening the fabric and leather beneath, and leaving a deep cut in its wake. Blood welled and the man staggered backward, swinging up wildly. Titania pressed forward, her sword swinging up and then down. Finvarra’s sword rose, trying to fend off what he saw coming, but the shock still showed in his eyes and he came nowhere close. Titania’s sword sank into the joint of his neck and shoulder and he fell to his knees before crumpling face down in the grass.

  ‘He still lives,’ Anann said, ‘and the honour is yours, Queen Titania.’ The way she put such an emphasis on the title was oddly reassuring, but it also suggested that something was expected of her.

  Titania glanced at her husband and he nodded to her. Reversing her sword, she gripped the hilt in both hands and drove it down through Finvarra’s back. The body jerked once and then lay still, and blood began t
o run through the grass beneath him.

  ‘It is done,’ Anann said, smiling, and then she turned and walked into the fighting around her. And the men of the Discord army fell dead in her wake.

  ~~~

  The odd scream still echoed across the battlefield an hour later when Titania, Twill, and Ishifa rode back alone. They had made sure Oberon was being treated and was comfortable in his chambers, and then gone out again, insisting that the guards stay with the King to be sure that no Discord assassin could get to him.

  They dismounted where Finvarra had been killed. His body still lay there in a pool of his own blood. Out in the field three figures wandered. Oberon’s army had withdrawn thirty minutes earlier, but the Morrigna were still walking between the bodies, making sure that they were just bodies. If there was a single Discord warrior left alive, it was by means of a miracle.

  ‘Enough!’ Titania shouted. ‘Please, enough! You’ve done enough.’ The three figures turned at the sound of her voice, and then began walking toward her.

  Anann and Badb were unmarked, not a scratch on their bodies, and while their boots had blood on them from the grass even their clothes were clean. Macha was another matter. She was covered, head to foot, in blood, though there were no obvious marks on her skin, Lily’s skin, so perhaps it all belonged to other people. Her long hair was matted into a stringy ponytail, and a far brighter red than it was normally. Blood dripped from her sai.

  ‘You’ve done enough,’ Titania said again, her voice lowered to normal. ‘You can give them back.’

  ‘We could stay,’ Anann replied. ‘We have thousands of years of wisdom we could pass on. These men were not the last of them. Their movement continues in the human world. We could stay and bring you victory over them all.’

  ‘No!’ Twill flew up, practically flying into Anann’s face. ‘These are people and you’ve taken their lives away from them. You’ve done as Ceri asked and you’ve had your fun. Give them back their bodies.’ Looking a little like she thought she was doing something intensely stupid, Ishifa flew up to hover at Twill’s shoulder, backing her up.

  ‘Please ladies,’ Titania said. ‘These are brave women. They deserve their reward for it.’

  Anann looked mildly shocked at being stood up to by someone no bigger than her hand. She stepped back. ‘As you wish,’ she said, and then all three women collapsed.

  Interlude

  Kennington, London, October 23rd, 2012

  Something felt wrong. Twill was not sure exactly what it was, but it felt as though someone had invaded her territory. She could sense nothing specific, and she could find no one in the house or on the grounds, and the wards should have prevented anyone from breaking in anyway… But still she felt eyes on her as she moved through the rooms.

  There were other things. Cheryl had gone missing, and Ceri and Lily had gone out earlier in the day to investigate. It was getting close to midnight and neither had returned. Ceri had been changing too. It had been barely noticeable at first, but she had been getting worse recently. She constantly referred to Lily as “pet” and she had bought a collar for the girl. In a way it was just giving in to Lily’s wishes, but Twill had always felt Ceri thought that that was going too far. It was almost as if someone was twisting her, changing her.

  Coming to a decision, she went up to her attic and packed her little bag with some money. Something dark was happening and there was only one place in London where a fairy could get information on dark things in relative safety.

  Mayfair, October 24th

  ‘Mistress Twill,’ Sean said in greeting as she settled onto the bar, ‘it’s always a pleasure, if a rare one, to have you in here.’ He reached under the bar, producing a small glass, and poured a measure of mead into it, but when she reached for her bag he shook his head. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you, but not a surprise. She’s been waitin’ for you, and that’s on the house.’

  She… Twill did not look, but she felt the presence taking shape at her side. ‘Lady,’ she said, her voice soft.

  ‘Your suspicions are correct… Twill,’ the dark voice said to her. The slight hesitation before her name made Twill’s heart skip. ‘Ceridwyn Brent is being influenced, her mind bent to a purpose.’

  ‘Whose purpose?’

  ‘It is a very ancient purpose, attempted once before and thought beyond hope. One of Ceridwyn’s ancestors allowed himself to be destroyed in order to stop it, thinking that they could never again forge the form they needed to make it work.’

  Twill gasped. ‘Brenin… The Dragons? But…’

  ‘There is little time.’

  Someone seemed to have clamped a fist around Twill’s heart. She gulped down mead and took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. ‘I’ll need someone to take me over,’ she said, her voice cracking on the last word. ‘There’s something I need to do, then I have to go.’

  ‘Sean will contact Ophelia Silvershield,’ the Lady said. ‘Her House has been handling the negotiations. She will help you. Meet her on Kennington Park Road outside the park gate opposite the tube station in… two hours?’

  Twill nodded. ‘Thank you, Lady.’ She lifted from the bar and flew toward the pipe up to ground level.

  Sean was frowning. ‘You mean, that’s Gloriandel Wintergreen?’ But the Lady was gone and he got no answer.

  Part Five: Hieros Gamos

  Summer Palace, Otherworld, February 20th, 2013

  Ceri’s eyes cracked open slightly and she rapidly jammed them shut again. ‘Light,’ she moaned. ‘Light bright… make it go away.’ There was hurried movement as someone moved quickly to close the curtains, but the light still looked bright through her eyelids and she stayed as she was, trying to work out where she was. The room smelled of lavender. Twill liked to use lavender to help people relax. She was not at home; the bed felt wrong and there was no Lily in it. The last thing she remembered was… was…

  She sat bolt upright only to have someone press her gently but firmly back down. It seemed like a good idea. Her head swam and her vision blurred, but when that cleared she found herself looking at a woman with long, blonde hair, dressed in a dark blue dress and a rough, white pinafore. Titania looked absolutely stunning, as always, but she had never looked less royal.

  ‘We were starting to worry about you,’ Titania said, her voice soft and relieved. ‘Ophelia and Lily awoke yesterday, but you seemed determined to stay asleep. They don’t remember anything after they were possessed, do you?’

  ‘Remember…?’ Ceri frowned. It was almost as if she was remembering something someone else had done, but she remembered. She had walked through ranks of men, seeing those who were to live and those who were to die. She had flown high above the world and known the flow of battle intuitively and completely. She had judged those fighting and decided who deserved the victory, and she had destroyed those who deserved to lose. There had been no mercy, no remorse, and she remembered it all, but what she remembered most of all was… ‘No. No I don’t remember anything really. I take it you won?’

  ‘Yes,’ Titania replied, not sounding convinced. ‘We won the battle. A lot of people died, though most of them were on Finvarra’s side.’ She turned, starting for the door. ‘I’ll tell the others you’re awake. There are a number of people who will want to see you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ceri said, watching her leave. She had been put in one of the upstairs rooms in the suite which seemed to be theirs for the time being. At a guess it was to let her rest without too much disturbance. Which had probably worked fine, and it lasted for about another minute before the door burst open and she was surrounded by people, all of them talking over each other in a bid to ask how she was. Lily immediately cuddled up to her left side, Michael sat at her right, and Twill and Ishifa flitted around over her chest, flickers of light dancing around them and both speaking too fast to be understood. Only Ophelia held back, standing at the foot of the bed, not quite feeling part of the family.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Ceri said after allowing them
to chatter on for a while. ‘I feel a bit like I’ve been through a war, but I’ve felt worse.’

  ‘Technically,’ Ophelia said, ‘a war is a collection of battles and we only did the one.’

  ‘But we did get kind of bloody,’ Lily said. ‘We don’t remember any of it, but apparently they had to soak the blood out of my hair. I was coated in it. You don’t remember either?’

  ‘No, nothing.’ She felt Lily stiffen slightly beside her. Her bound demon could sense the disquiet, knew she was lying.

  ‘That’s probably a good thing, right?’ Lily said.

  Ceri nodded. ‘I think it’s a very good thing.’

  ~~~

  Oberon and Titania, both of them dressed in more formal wear than the nursing outfit she had worn earlier, came up to visit Ceri and the others late in the afternoon. The King’s wounds had been healed and he was every bit the regal fae lord once again. Ceri smiled as the couple entered, sitting up straighter in bed, which made the sheet slip off her chest. She felt her cheeks colouring a little, but she did not pull it back up. She noticed Oberon’s eyes dip as he approached the bed, which just make her straighten her back a little more to push her breasts forward.

  ‘I see that you’ve recovered fully from your ordeal on our behalf,’ Oberon said, smiling.

  ‘I’m a little stiff,’ Ceri replied, ‘but I think that’ll pass when this lot allow me out of bed so I can move around.’

  Lily, still sat at Ceri’s left, dipped her head to Ceri’s ear and whispered, ‘With that display, I think he’s feeling a little stiff himself.’ Ceri elbowed her in the ribs.

  Oberon’s face straightened. ‘I would like to talk to all of you before we do the formal business tomorrow. I don’t want any surprises in the audience chamber.’

  Ceri nodded. Sat in a chair at the side of the bed, Ophelia sighed. ‘In that case,’ Ceri said, ‘I’m getting up and we’ll go down to the lounge. There’s informal and there’s downright slovenly, and this is the latter.’