* * *
Moments later, we stopped outside a moss-covered cave whose vestibule stretched the size of our cottage. Spindly trees grew on its roof, their roots flowing around the cave’s entrance like string curtains. Silence cloaked this part of the forest, as though no being, not even the Fomorian mist, dared to approach the oilliphéist’s lair. The soldiers soon caught up with us, flanking Enbarr like sentries.
I turned back to King Drayce. “Will you and the others fight the olly-fest—”
“Oilliphéist.”
My lip curled. If I wanted elocution lessons, I would have accepted Shona’s invitation for tea. “While you and the others fight the creature, I’ll search its cave.”
“You must go alone,” said the king.
“Why?”
“The oilliphéist will slay all but the purest of maidens.” He glanced over his shoulder. “That disqualifies all of us except perhaps Captain Stipe.”
Suppressed snickers filled the air, and the captain roared at his soldiers to be silent. I pursed my lips and huffed. After that big show of being too noble to take my maidenhead the night before, it turned out that he needed my purity so that Queen Melusina would get her blood.
King Drayce dismounted and helped me down. My feet sank into six inches of leaf litter, and I wondered if we were the first people to visit this cave in a decade.
My stomach rumbled with anticipation. “What do I have to do?”
The king placed his warm hands on my shoulders, rooting me to the ground with their reassuring weight. Trepidation at facing the beast was the only thing keeping me from pushing him off. Normally, I would give him a reprimand and a hard shove, but right now, I needed all the reassurance I could get even if it came from an enemy.
He stared into my eyes, his green, slitted pupils rounding. “Stay silent until he demands to know what you want, then speak clearly. Ask him for the Blood of Dana and say nothing else.”
I nodded, although the movement was shaky from all my trembling.
“He will give you a riddle to solve.”
“And if I fail?” My voice shook.
Captain Stipe strode forward, his brow creased. “Then run and make as much noise as you can.”
My eyes fluttered closed. Father’s freedom depended on getting this blood. I would not fail.
Chapter 8
I sucked in a deep, fortifying breath and ventured into the dark cave. As soon as I passed its threshold, the temperature plummeted, and I pulled the edges of my cloak together.
A quick glance over my shoulder told me that King Drayce and Captain Stipe were still paying attention. The pair stood shoulder-to-shoulder at the mouth of the cave, staring ahead. Could they see me? And if I screamed, would anyone come to my rescue? A shiver caressed my back, its fingers long and cold and spindly.
The cool, silty ground yielded to my feet, yet each step caused an echo that stretched for several heartbeats, fading so slowly the sounds built and built until in time, their volume shook my eardrums. At least the noise drowned out the panicked pulse pounding in my skull.
Light radiated from around the corner, and when I rounded it, the sounds quietened, and the air warmed. A long, narrow passageway stretched out to what looked like a spacious chamber.
“Who goes there?” bellowed the voice of a wizened old man. It was sharp as a switchblade, as though accustomed to scolding.
I didn’t reply. King Drayce had warned me not to speak. Instead, I continued walking until I reached a large chamber. Amber stalactites dribbled down the wall like candles made from earwax. Some of them were thicker than tree trunks, stretching down to the ground like uneven columns.
A two-legged, seven-foot-tall creature stepped out from a shadowy alcove. It had the triangular snout of a lizard with slitted nostrils and burning, amber eyes. Horned scales covered most of its body, except for a patch of large, smooth scales over its chest and abdomen. His thick, muscular tail curved to one side, a torch burning from its tip.
My mouth dried, and I swallowed, but the membranes of my throat stuck together. If I had known what I’d be facing, I would have drunk that tea at breakfast.
“I am the oilliphéist.” He stretched his claw-tipped hands out wide. “The Keeper of All Things.”
I dropped into a curtsey but kept my mouth clamped shut.
The creature’s nostril slits flared. “I have not seen hair the likes of yours in a millennium. Introduce yourself.”
When I didn’t reply, he stepped forward, lowered his head to my neck, and sniffed. I’d expected the creature to have breath like brimstone, but the scent of rancid fat invaded my nostrils, making me jolt.
Turning my head away, I held my breath. What if the purity required from the oilliphéist wasn’t virginity but kindness? I had slain enough faeries to stain my hands black.
He snorted a plume of smoke through my cloak. “Pure enough. What do you want? Speak, girl, or face my wrath.”
“The Blood of Dana.”
“Indeed?” He purred, drawing back. “And what will you give me in return?”
Sweat broke out across my brow. After what King Drayce had said about foolish, greedy humans requesting boons from faeries and not offering payment, I couldn’t help but fear that I would end up owing the creature my life.
His tail flames made an annoyed flicker, as though urging me to speak. When I didn’t, he lowered it to the ground. “Very well. If you answer my riddle correctly, I will grant you the Blood of Dana.”
Gulping, I let my gaze rove around the cave. His tail was the only source of illumination. It illuminated walls lined with shelves tall enough to fit a human male. The light didn’t stretch far enough for me to see their contents, but they probably contained all the valuables he was supposed to keep.
The Keeper rocked back on his heels. “All right. One day, every seven years, an opportunity arises. Many seek it, but none recognize it until it is lost. What is the opportunity?”
I scratched my head. Seven years had to be related to the mist surrounding Bresail. Most men I knew wanted riches, women, and status over others, or if they were tavern louts, drink. But those had nothing to do with the mist clearing for one day every seven years.
“Would you like me to repeat the riddle?”
I nodded.
His tail made another irritated flicker. I supposed he was trying to get me to say yes. Then he’d pretend to take that as the answer to the riddle and punish me for getting it wrong. I sent King Drayce a silent thanks for the warning before realizing how stupid it was to offer him gratitude when it was his fault I was stuck in the realm of the faeries, performing what looked like a dangerous and impossible task.
He repeated the riddle, and the second time around, I focused on the part about not recognizing what you had until you had lost it.
“Take your time.” The Keeper tapped his lipless mouth with horned nails, sounding anything but patient.
Folding my arms across my chest, I considered another option. It couldn’t be love. While it was something that everyone sought, romantic opportunities didn’t come only once every seven years. They came every day if one was beautiful and didn’t have peculiar features like vibrant, orange hair. It had to be freedom.
Father and I had waited for years for the mist to clear, not feeling free because we hadn’t reached the safety of Hibernia. But now that we were in the clutches of the faeries, I realized that I should have appreciated those years of living in the human realm. We had been scared and scrimping every spare penny to save up for our passage out of Bresail, but at least we had been free.
He must have seen the decision in my eyes because he said, “What is your answer?”
I widened my stance, hand between the openings of my cloak, ready to pull out my dagger in case he struck. “Freedom.”
The Keeper’s jaw dropped. “Free—” He massaged his temples. “This is most embarrassing.”
Stepping back, I tilted my head to the side in question.
He waved his hand. “It’s all right. You have answered the riddle and may speak with impunity.”
“Did I get it right?”
“Yes and no,” he replied.
“What does that mean?”
“I had another answer in mind, but it seems stupid now that you’ve said freedom. Freedom fits much better, doesn’t it?”
The vibrations of my heart filled the silence, but I gave him a weak nod, not knowing what on earth he meant. “If my answer is better than yours, can I have the Blood of Dana?”
“Can I have the Blood of Dana?” He snorted. “What a question!”
“I don’t understand.” I stepped back.
“You’ve beaten my riddle.”
Apprehension rumbled in my stomach like the warnings of an earthquake. I closed my hand around the grip of my iron sword. “So, I should get what I requested.”
“I cannot give you the Blood of Dana,” he snapped.
“Why not? I thought you were the Keeper of All Things.”
“The Keeper of keys, treasures, secrets. I can even lead you to where things are kept, but I am not the Keeper of that blood!”
“All right.” I took another step back. “Give me something that will direct me to the blood, then.”
He pulled back his lips, revealing a mouthful of gleaming fangs. Then his jaws opened wider and wider until his head flipped all the way back like an open trunk. A human hand stretched out of the gaping maw. It was holding a ring topped with a blood-red agate stone, marred with streaks of bone-white.
A gasp caught in my throat. “The olly-fest is a… costume?”
“Oilliphéist,” said an annoyed voice. An elderly man crawled out of the skin. With his deep-set, amber eyes, hooked nose, and uneven teeth, he didn’t look much better than his original body. He pulled the skin down past a hollow chest and to a wrinkled paunch. Then he stretched out the hand holding the ring toward me.
“Here.” He gave his wrist an impatient flick. “Take this.”
I edged forward and offered my palm, and he dropped the jeweled ring in my hand. The agate stone seemed to have a living pulse. “What’s this?”
“I must admit to being impressed at having met you,” he said. “Your coloring and cunning are nothing like any of the others. Plump princesses, they were. All poise and purity and politeness.”
As if they had instincts of their own, my feet shuffled back. I hadn’t done anything special, but it did make sense that a creature such as the Keeper would like my hair. “Others—”
“You’re a special one, indeed. Scrappy, scrawny, and sharp-witted. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.”
“No matter.” He waved his hand. “I shall name you Dandi-Fire. Yes, that is a fitting appellation for such a cunning beauty.”
“Thanks. How do I use the ring?”
“Why, you put it on your finger.”
“All right.” I took a few more steps back, not wanting to turn my back on the old man in case he changed his mind that I had solved his riddle and decided to mete out his punishment.
“Go on, then.” He gestured at the ring with his head. “Put it on.”
“I need to leave. People are waiting for me outside.”
His smile broadened, revealing teeth gangling off his gums by thin roots. “They will leave in time.”
“Why?”
He pulled the skin down past his hips. Panic spiked through my heart. Before I caught a glimpse of the horrors he kept between his legs, I whirled around and hurried back to the hallway.
“Because you will stay to be my bride!” His voice was a deafening roar, its echoes mingling with my heavy, clouding footsteps.
I clutched my ears and stumbled. As I fell, I twisted and caught a glimpse of the old man. He had fully emerged from his skin and had raised his tail, which flared with the light of a thousand candles.
And all around the cave were shelves upon shelves of dried, female bodies clad in white gowns.
My heart stopped. My fingers loosened, and the ring fell onto the stone floor with an echoing clink. Those had to be girls who had failed his riddle and worse, his former brides.
“Come to me, my sweet, Dandi-Fire,” he crooned.
The words were the jolt to the heart I needed. A scream ripped from my lips, and I sprinted through to the end of his chamber, only for Captain Stipe and the soldiers to rush in from the hallway, weapons raised.
The captain swung at my head, and I dove to the side and rolled across the stone floor. “I’m Neara!” I spat. “He’s the one you want!”
“Intruders,” snarled the Keeper. “You will die first.”
One of the soldiers lunged at the old man and pierced him in the ribs with his halberd. Black blood poured from the wound, and the Keeper opened his maw and spat a mouthful of needles into his face. The soldier stiffened and fell onto his back, unmoving.
The old man’s jaws widened, and needle-thin fangs sprayed out at the soldiers.
“Shields forward!” bellowed Captain Stipe.
The Keeper turned around, revealing a spine lined with dagger-like horns. One of them shot out from his back and penetrated the soldier’s shield, skewering him in the chest. Another soldier fell on the ground, dead.
My breath hitched, and I stumbled to my feet, clapping my hands over my mouth. What kind of creature was this? More and more of those spikes shot out, lancing through soldiers. At the end of each projectile was a round bulb, filled with a glistening, silver liquid. I didn’t know what kind of substance it contained, but it worked better than iron against the faeries.
A hand clamped around my wrist, and I screamed.
King Drayce snarled into my ear, “What happened to the girl who killed two fae Lords to save her father? Run.”
One of the soldiers fell, kicking my ring toward the Keeper.
My breath hitched. “I have to—”
He yanked me toward the corridor. “This mission is a failure, and those soldiers will die. Retreat.”
I clenched my teeth. If I left without that ring, Father would remain in a cage, kept young and tortured for an eternity. I pulled my arm out of his grip. “No.”
“What are you doing?”
Darting forward, I leaped from soldier to soldier, using their bodies as cover. The Keeper’s ring had to be a clue to the location of the blood that would give Father and me our freedom.
The ring lay by the old man’s feet. He squatted with his back turned to the soldiers, shoulders flexing, tail wagging, shooting out spikes. He caught sight of me and grinned. “You decided to stay, Dandi-Fire?”
I ignored him and snatched the ring.
“Get out of here, now!” King Drayce snatched me around the waist, yanking me off my feet. He sprinted around the back of the soldiers toward the exit.
This time, I didn’t struggle. His broad frame protected me from any flying missiles, and I had the ring. Now that I was no longer in the way, the faerie soldiers could focus on defeating the Keeper.
Just as we reached the chamber’s exit and stepped into the narrow corridor, he flinched and let go of my waist. “Damn it!”
As soon as my feet hit the ground, I turned. “Did you get hit?”
His scaly face contorted into a scowl, and he spun, raising both hands. The mummified women on the bottom shelf shuffled down toward the Keeper.
The old man stopped shooting spines and stretched his arms wide. “My brides!”
King Drayce snarled, jerking his hands forward like a furious conductor. The brides advanced on the Keeper, their gaits stiff and jagged.
While a dozen of them surrounded the Keeper, who peppered kisses on their dry heads, the freshest two picked up his scaly skin and dragged it to his tail fire.
His eyes bulged. “What are you—”
It ignited, and the Keeper screamed. Flames engulfed the skin, filling the chamber with the stench of burned leather.
“Put that fire out!” he screeched. He extinguished his tail fi
re, plunging the chamber into semi-darkness.
The flames of his burning skin provided the only illumination, casting the old man and his desiccated brides in harsh shadow. The Keeper struggled toward the flaming skin, but dozens of mummified hands held him back.
“My loves!” he wailed. “If that skin burns, I will perish!”
As if by magic, his wrinkled, old body caught fire, and he thrashed within the grip of his dead brides. Sparks and spikes and needles flew from the burning bodies, spreading fire through the chamber like a blanket of flames.
“Everybody out!” bellowed Captain Stipe from deeper in the chamber.
I grabbed King Drayce by the wrist and pulled him through the narrow corridor to the exit. “Come on. You’ve done enough.”
He stumbled, and I wrapped his arm around my shoulder, grimacing at his weight. As we hurried out, I stole one last glance at the chamber. The Keeper fell through the crowd of corpses, and his flaming body broke into smoldering pieces.
A shuddering breath escaped my nostrils. We were safe from the Keeper, but if King Drayce was dying, would I be safe from Captain Stipe?
Chapter 9
I stumbled toward the cave’s exit, straining under the bulk of King Drayce. His labored breaths warmed my neck, and the reverberations of his groans shook me to the marrow.
The blood-and-bone crystal ring pulsed in time with my heartbeat, spreading warmth through my palm, as though pleased to be out of the Keeper’s clutches. Something told me that the ring would lead me to the Blood of Dana… if King Drayce survived the Keeper’s attack long enough to help me find it.
As soon as I passed the threshold of the cave and stepped into the fresh, forest air, I leaned him against a tree. With a pained moan, King Drayce slid down the trunk and sank into the leaf litter. Enbarr trotted out from behind a massive gorse bush and stuck is bony snout into his master’s hair.
King Drayce’s face contorted with agony, making his scaly covering all the more monstrous. “Damn you,” he rasped between breaths. “You should have run!”
Molten hot anger surged through my veins, and heat flared across my face. I should have left the ungrateful wretch to struggle out of that cave on his hands and knees. He would have deserved it, too. “And I told you to set Father and me free.”
Curse of the Fae King Page 7