I balanced my stance, one foot slightly forward and the other back at an angle. I had a couple of defensive spells in the front of my mind, ready to launch with a thought. I’d never used a defensive spell in combat, but I had practiced a million times with Grammy. She used to throw rocks and baseballs at me. She had a good arm and wicked aim. She also used to make me work as the Bozo in the dunk tank. Heckling rubes to throw a baseball to hit a pan and drop me in a tub of water. It wasn’t long before I could deflect the balls until I was ready to cool off. I thought Grammy was cruel back then, but now I silently thanked her for the practice. Unfortunately, centaurs weren’t just rubes with a good arm.
The centaurs were magnificent. They were larger than draft horses. With human torsos rising from strong equine shoulders—and what torsos. Each had a six-pack any body builder would have killed for. Their curling hair and beards looked like something from a Greek statue. Their horse parts ranged in color from black, gray, copper penny sorrel, to blood red bay. One had four white legs and a pinto patch on his hip. They were all definitely stallions, tall enough that I could see their attributes without bending over. I notice these things. I know, I know. My libido has a mind of its own. You can look at a horse, appreciate its beauty, and still not want to take it for a ride, you know.
I couldn’t help but think of the lullaby about all the pretty little horses. I mentally slapped myself. These pretty horses were deadly. I readied a defensive spell. I’d never cast it before, so I sure hoped it would work if I needed it.
The centaurs circled us, silent except for their pounding hooves. Without any obvious signal, they stopped and pirouetted to a halt, facing us in a loose circle. I met the eyes of the coal black centaur before me. There was no danger of a soul gaze with fairy creatures.
“What business have you here, Mage?” he rumbled.
How did he know I was a witch? I mused. That little flying monkey must have snitched. Either that, or there were more eyes on us than we knew.
“I seek audience with the ruler in yonder castle,” I replied. I heard Tom gulp air, probably trying not to laugh at “yonder castle”. I elbowed him gently, my eyes never leaving the centaur. This was serious. Most Fae only understood Old English. Their lives were unimaginably long. Most had not bothered to learn modern English, with its changing idioms and regional slang. I’d read that most Fae folk spoke many ancient tongues. Unfortunately, I could only attempt Old English and Latin.
“What business,” the black centaur asked, his cold eyes never leaving mine. The bay centaur opposite Tom pawed the ground with a hoof the size of a pie pan. Flaps of skin in their horse chests heaved like bellows with their breaths. They smelled of earth and sweat, not of horse, which surprised me a little.
“It is a matter of blood,” I replied.
He looked at the sorrel, which wheeled on his hind legs and thundered off toward the fortress. “We go,” he said tersely. The remaining four wheeled, forming a phalanx on either side of us.
“I guess we have an escort,” I said quietly to Tom.
“Ya think?”
We marched between the centaurs who maintained a comfortable pace. There were pools of water all around the castle. The exterior walls seemed to be made of a gelatinous substance. It pulsed in opalescent waves. Water flowed over the wall next to the gate.
I searched the sky for Zach. I just wanted to know he was still alive. I would feel guilty if we had to leave suddenly, and he was stuck here. The sun was higher now. The sky was clear except for a few high mare’s tail cirrus clouds.
The circular castle gate opened like the iris on a camera. The centaurs trotted away in formation as we stepped through. A huge fountain and pool were in the center of the courtyard. It blasted a three-foot diameter column of water twenty feet high. I could see kelpies roiling in the pillar. The interior castle walls were a more conventional stone. I surreptitiously raised Amanda’s comb on its tether. It pulled left, toward a wide arch. I raised my eyebrows to Tom. We made a parade turn, and started toward the arch. Although the sun was ascending, most of the courtyard behind the high walls was still in shadow.
Tom stopped suddenly. I readied a defensive spell. Then I caught sight of what had stopped him. Two trolls flanked the archway. Their gray cracked and wrinkled skin blended with the walls behind them. I gulped back my spell, feeling it shiver over my body, absorbed by my metal belt. If the trolls felt my aggressive energy, they would attack. They both were at least twelve feet tall. Each one held a mace so large, the handle was as long as I was tall. Their dripping eyes under rocklike brows bored into us. They smelled musty and unwholesome. I felt my sinuses begin to run. The trolls shifted from side to side, waiting to do mayhem. These things could squash us without even trying. We were at the point of no return. I needed to either run or put up a bold front. The first option was looking good in the face of the behemoths we had to pass. I chose the latter and was almost positive I would regret it.
“Don’t let them see you sweat,” I said sotto voce to Tom.
“You mean don’t let them see me piss myself,” he replied just as quietly.
I squared my shoulders and announced imperiously, “We seek audience. Do not hinder our way.” I slammed my staff on the ground and made a flash of blinding red light flare out in two directions, like twin lasers right into their craggy faces. The trolls each fell back a step, groping at their eyes. So far, so good.
“Let’s hope they don’t follow us in,” I said out of the side of my mouth.
I fixed a smile on my face, and Tom and I swept forward into a soaring hall. The groined ceiling must have been seventy feet above our heads. Glittering sylphs flitted like fireflies in the shadows, lighting tapestries and paintings. Norwegian for sylphs is pixie, and pixie is what most Americans call them. Seeing the graceful movements of the glowing creatures at a distance, sylph seemed a more appropriate appellation. The air was cool and vigorously damp. Smells of incense clashed with musty, undefined odors coming from the beings in the hall. Vaguely Celtic flute music created an overtone of gentile quietude. It managed to sound both plaintive and haunting at the same time. A raised dais at the far end held three throne-like chairs carved from single crystals. Large cushions surrounded the chairs.
Fairies of all shapes and sizes milled about on the main floor, some dancing, most just mingling. They were either ethereally beautiful with graceful bodies that swayed as they talked, or grotesquely ugly with mismatched limbs and warty faces. The melodious conversation stopped as we stepped into the hall. All eyes, some of which were three or four to a face, turned to us.
I sneezed suddenly and loudly.
“Bless you,” Tom said out of the side of his mouth.
“Troll allergy,” I muttered back, not taking my eyes off the throng in front of us. “Bold front,” I said almost inaudibly. “Let’s go get Amanda.” I took a deep breath and threw my head back, tossing my hair. Staff in hand, I marched forward into the beautiful and deadly throng like a drum major in front of the parade. My ponytail bounced jauntily with my stride. Tom locked step at my shoulder. The crowd parted before us like the Biblical Red Sea. I expected some sort of protest. There was only silence and curious eyes.
I could not believe we were doing this. We were walking through a crowd of preternatural creatures who had lived for thousands of years. The youngest of the group probably had more magic in their little finger than my whole family had in the past five generations. The only reason I could imagine why we both were calm, was the situation was so surreal, our brains were on overload. If both Tom and I were on auto-drive, I just wish we had a little more horsepower.
I tried to stay on the trajectory Amanda’s comb indicated. As we started up the steps of the dais, a group of elf guards with swept back ears and jaggedly pointed teeth pulled forward to bar our way. They wore bronze armor. They all held silver swords. I felt my pulse race. These guys were killers. Their eyes said Tom and I were only objects. They would destroy us without a thought. I conscio
usly slowed my heart rate. Getting here had been too easy, I thought. Cue the ominous music.
What actually happened was the Celtic music strangled to a stop as though the flautists’ throat had been cut. The glowing pixies fluttered to a halt, hovering over our heads, spotlighting us in their glow. I noticed thin chains tethered all the pixies. Small motes of glittering dust from their flickering wings filtered down on our hair and shoulders.
The elves were too close. If we needed to escape, I wouldn’t be able to make a portal back to our world fast enough for us to jump through. Bad thinking, Airy. We hadn’t come this far to back out now. I had to quit thinking of running away as a fallback. I had to be brave, put up an audacious front. I planted my feet, tilted my staff forward with one hand, and gathered my energy. With the other, I reached back to touch Tom. In Z-Latin—the Carney slang—I said, “Bee uz ree uz eddy.” Be ready. I felt him touch me back in affirmation. I heard his feet shift to a more balanced stance. Tom had been to a few brawls in his day. You didn’t survive a Carney dust up if the first blow knocked you down. Granted, we wouldn’t have a chance in this crowd if it came to violence. Nonetheless, I was comforted by the thought that if it came to it, we would go down fighting. An involuntary grin developed on my face. Bring it on!
Behind the throne chairs, a wide pillar of water welled up from the center of a shallow, saucer-shaped pool. From the water stepped three Fae, followed by Amanda. I felt Tom start forward and held him with a touch of my hand. The fairies were beautiful, tall, and slender with unfeeling, Caribbean-blue eyes. Their skin was as white as sea swash; silky hair in shades of blue and green seemed to blend into the rich robes they wore. Amanda wore a vacant smile. She did not acknowledge us, or the rest of the assembly at our backs. She was dressed in gold robes no less rich than those of the Fae. Her blonde hair was atop her head in an intricate, curling coiffure. A necklace of blue gems glowed at her throat.
The three Fae sank bonelessly into their chairs. Amanda knelt on a cushion next to the center chair with her legs folded under her, her arm looped over the chair. She gazed adoringly up at the beautiful, ancient fairy seated there. She didn’t even look at us.
“Who seeks audience,” one of the elves asked, in a falsetto voice that would have made me giggle, if the circumstances had not been so dire.
“I, daughter of Sylvan, Witch of the Land, seek to return this daughter of man to her home and family.” I indicated Amanda with a tilt of my head.
Time passed before the fairy on the left spoke, “She is not daughter of man, but daughter of King Mechtán of the Water Fae.”
I knew this was only a small part of the King’s name. Fairies had notoriously long and complicated names. I wouldn’t be able to use his name for any magical conjuring.
“Her life is with the people of her mother.”
“It is time, Mechtán gathers his children close,” the Fae on the right countered.
Could he be more cryptic? Time for what?
The center fairy’s voice was the deepest I’d ever heard. It was so low, I felt the sounds as much as I heard them. “You told our emissaries this was a matter of blood?”
“This woman is Chatelaine to her husband, and her children will cry without her.” No lies, Amanda kept the family business running, and her boys would definitely cry if she never came back.
The center Fae leaned over to whisper to Amanda. I listened intently and made out, “Daughter mine, have you children in the world of men?”
Amanda’s vacant smile became wider, and she looked up to him. “My two boys. They are in school. They’re good boys.”
The King touched her face gently. The, he looked at me. “My daughter must be protected. War is nigh.”
“If she was to be protected, why were demons sent to the world of men when she was brought to you?” I heard murmurs from the throng at my back but didn’t turn to look.
“Demons?” He sat a bit straighter and looked to the Fae on his right. This was a big reaction for a fairy. Everything I’d read about them said they had the best poker faces in the three Universes.
“There was a Child of Air near. We sought to distract,” the right hand Fae said defensively.
I interjected quickly, “At least twenty three-legged demons were seen by men. They had no controller. Had I not sent them back to this realm, their existence, and the existence of this world, would have been exposed.” An “ooh” went up from the crowd at our backs. This statement gave me some credentials. The Fae know that not every witch can open a random portal to or from this world. They would be cautious dealing with me. Luckily, they didn’t know my gift was mostly congenital and not massive magical skill. I wasn’t likely to disabuse them of their misconceptions.
“We do not fear exposure. The world of men means nothing to us,” the right hand Fae retorted. I heard the minions behind us agree heartily.
I tilted my head and looked at him steadily with a little smile on my face. I wouldn’t say bullshit out loud, but he and I both knew he was posturing for the crowd. The Fae did not want to risk exposure to the human world.
I tried to think of a strategy. I’d planned on finding Amanda, then sneaking her out when no one was looking. With the crowd around her, that plan wouldn’t be feasible. We could grab Amanda, jump through a way, and be out of here. Except, these Fae were thousands of years old and had ten times my magical ability. They would have us back here before I could spit. Besides Amanda had some sort of glamor fogging her mind. If she were as thoroughly brainwashed as she looked, she would probably fight extraction. My only option was to appeal to the King, make him accept the family connection.
“King, would not your daughter be safer lost among the many in the human world? Surely, your magic could protect her there, as well as it does here in the kingdom of the Water Fae. I too will pledge myself to her safety.” Oh, shit. I just made a promise to the King of the Fairies. My first fairy faux pas—nobody’s perfect. My brain whirled. I felt the uncontrollable urge to laugh wildly. I unconsciously reached for the amulet I’d made—was it just this morning?—and felt my focus return.
The King’s ancient eyes bore into mine. It took all my willpower to meet his gaze. He was one of the most powerful beings in two worlds, and I was in a staring contest with him. If I flinched, I knew Tom and I were out of luck in more ways than one. I steadied my breathing and counted my heartbeats, thinking of nothing at all while I met the King’s gaze. After 802 heartbeats, the King smiled.
His bass voice startled me as he said, “I must consider your words, Mage of the Land. Enjoy the hospitality of our court. You and the Son of Bob will be our honored guests. None will cause you harm.”
I bowed my head. “We are honored. We await your decision.”
As I backed away, head bowed and palms facing forward held out from my sides, I felt Tom stiffen in protest. I gave him a quick elbow jab to the gut. I heard his wind rush out with a gasp. I hustled him back into the crowd. With the excitement over, the music resumed. The crowd went back to its dancing and mingling as though nothing had happened.
Tom made a small, plaintive sound as the King and Amanda stepped back through the fountain.
“She’ll be all right.” I laid a hand on his arm. “He really is trying to protect her.”
A particularly grotesque Fairy approached us. I think he was a Merrow—the vicious counterparts to the beautiful Mermaids. He…it bowed with flourish. It would have been gracious if the creature’s long ears and vestigial limbs had not flopped forward with such an ugly, slurping sound. The burnt meat and rotting ooze smell, which wafted toward us, made my stomach heave involuntarily. I held my ground. Tom stepped forward to put himself between the Fae and me. Bless his heart. The creature could have sliced him into bite-sized chunks in the space of three breaths. I had a funny feeling about the Merrow. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was.
“The King bids me to see to your comfort.” Its voice was as beautiful as its countenance was ugly. “Follow me
to your accommodations.” He turned with a squish and started through the crowd. Tom looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. He held out his arm to indicate “you first”. We followed our stinky guide.
Chapter Eleven
When we reached our large circular room, the sun was shining through small, high windows. The tastefully appointed room had a feast of fruit, breads, and meats set out on a beautifully carved table, which could have been from any museum. The teal-colored linens were as smooth and soft as silk. The sky-blue lounges were plush enough to sleep on. The mosaics on the floor depicted ocean waves populated by mermaids. I recognized banners of the four minor fairy kingdoms—Water, Land, Air, and Fire—which hung down the walls between tall, narrow windows.
Our guide closed the door…and dropped the spell that provided his disgusting appearance. In less than a shimmering second, what appeared was a handsome, sandy-haired fairy, tall and slender, with gentle blue eyes and a killer smile.
“Boy, you are good.” I couldn’t keep the admiration from my voice. “I knew there was something different about you but had no sense of your spell.”
“The smell masks the taste of the glamor.” He bowed his head. “Sister, you are in real danger in this place. You need to go back to your world.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re calling me ‘sister’ in the metaphorical sense, aren’t you?”
“No, we are truly siblings through our father.”
“Who’s our father?”
“Paralda, King of the Air Fae.”
Deep down, something told me he was telling the truth. The funny feeling I’d had when we first met was kinship. Bell, book, and candle…
“Oh, Mom,” I groaned and sank down on one of the lounging couches. I wanted to curl up in a ball and gibber for a little while. Maybe I’d have time later. I had always wondered if the family’s penchant for earth magic was why we all used the last name Land, regardless of what our actual paternal surnames should be. I never cared who my father was. It was irrelevant…until now.
Carnival Charlatan Page 8