Thaumatology 11 - For Whom the Wedding Bells Toll Page 13
Michael gave a soft snicker. Yes. All friends.
Me watch with strange wolf until sun. The black wolf settled down, resting his muzzle on his paws.
Ceri looked around at Lily and Ophelia. ‘You two sleep. We’ve an extra pair of eyes for the night.’ She settled down herself before glancing at Michael. ‘You’ve got this?’ She got a nod in reply.
‘Yeah,’ Ophelia said, keeping her voice low, ‘like I’m going to get to sleep now.’
~~~
When Ceri opened her eyes again, the wolf had moved. At first she thought the creature had wandered off, but then she saw Michael, and he twitched his muzzle toward Ophelia. Turning around, Ceri found the wolf sprawled beside the Sidhe. One of her arms was draped over the animal’s back and she was very much asleep.
When Ceri turned back to Michael he was human again. ‘She was really nervous until he wandered over and snuggled up against her. Then she was even more nervous for a couple of minutes until she started scratching between his ears. And then she was cuddling up to him and nodding off.’
Ceri chuckled. ‘He can probably spot a sucker at five miles.’
‘He can spot other things too. There’s an encampment half a day’s run south and west of here. A big encampment. Wolves aren’t good with numbers, but there are a lot of people there.’
‘I guess that’s where we’re headed then.’ She glanced down and frowned slightly. Twill and Ishifa were snuggled under Michael’s blanket. ‘You have fairies in your bedding.’
Michael gave her a smirk. ‘Well, they were a little afraid of the wolf too, and you weren’t in my bedding.’
‘That’s something we’ll have to rectify at our earliest convenience.’ She smiled. ‘Just because we have to keep Lily fed, doesn’t mean we have to neglect your needs.’
‘Too right,’ Lily mumbled, her voice sleepy. ‘Do I have to get up now?’
‘Yes, shekushka, you do.’
With a drowsy giggle, Lily turned onto her back and sat up. ‘Well, if you’re going to call me that…’
~~~
They had presented the wolf with a gift of some of the venison they still had uncooked, and he had decided that they could use a guide for at least some of the journey. When the path they were on broadened out after an hour or so of walking, they discovered that their escort was more numerous than they had thought. A dozen wolves, these ones grey, appeared over the course of ten minutes or so, trotting along beside the party. The only person who seemed unsurprised at this course of events was Michael.
‘You were thinking, maybe, that he was a loner?’ the werewolf asked.
‘I just hadn’t noticed a hint of them being there,’ Ceri replied.
‘They are good,’ Michael conceded. ‘I caught a few scents, that’s about it.’
The pack did not stay with them constantly, though the black wolf and three of the five females did. The others peeled off periodically, scouting ahead and checking the area around them. After a mile or so Ceri had worked out why these particular she-wolves were sticking to the relative safety of the group; these ones were pregnant. One of them seemed to be the mate of the black since she trotted along at his side almost constantly.
Toward midday they walked over a ridge to find themselves looking down a slope toward an open bowl of a valley. It was largely grassland, but it had small clumps of stunted trees dotted around it. The wolves came to a stop on the edge and the black growled something which Ceri did not catch.
‘He says we’re on our own from here,’ Michael translated. ‘The trolls in this region hunt wolves and there are Discord patrols.’
Ceri looked down at the wolf and nodded. ‘It’s been a pleasure having you with us. I don’t want you putting yourself in danger for us. Good hunting.’
The wolf bowed his head and growled out, Good hunting.
Ceri raised an eyebrow. ‘You understand Low Fae?’
He barked out a laugh in reply. Of course.
Suddenly there was a yelp of pain and Lily was yelling, ‘Archer!’ and everyone was moving at once.
‘Where?’ Ceri called out as they ducked behind rocks, but the answer was obvious as a group of six black-clad Sidhe burst from one of the nearest copses. ‘Right,’ Ceri hissed and the ball of orange light which had been growing in her palm flew toward the trees. Fire exploded through the trunks, leaves burned. The second arrow never left the trees, but they had the foot soldiers to deal with.
Perhaps if the wolves had not been there it would have been harder, but the Sidhe had hurt one of their own and that made it the animals’ fight as well. Michael burst from cover, running with the wild wolves as they charged toward their targets, Lily pulled her sai and bolted after them, and Ceri was slower, but she hefted her staff and roared in anger as she charged forward. Ophelia was not so ready to join combat as the others, but she moved in, ready to take on anything she could get within reach of. Even Twill and Ishifa flew in. The fairies were hardly suited to fighting normal-sized people, but they darted in, distracting their targets, grabbed swords with telekinesis and stopped them hitting, and generally made a complete nuisance of themselves.
Ceri blocked a sword blow with her staff, turned, and swept her attacker’s legs from under him. As she slammed the foot of her staff into the man’s torso she saw Lily catch a blade with one of her weapons, twist it harshly, yanking the sword free of its owner’s hands, and then she drove the point of her other sai into his guts. The light in the man’s eyes went out almost instantly. Ceri put her foot down on her victim’s hand, stopping him from using his sword, and moved her staff to hover over his face. He lay still.
And it was over. A couple of seconds of frantic activity and the only survivor was the man Ceri was standing on, unless the archer had survived and Ceri doubted that would last long since four wolves were running into what was left of the trees. She turned her head and gasped; the black wolf had returned to the path into the valley and was standing over his fallen mate, licking at her face. An arrow was sticking out of the female’s shoulder.
‘Michael, Ophelia, watch this one. Don’t kill him yet. Lily, with me.’ Michael, and two wolves, were standing over the fallen Sidhe before Ophelia could even move, and Ceri hurried across to the two wolves.
The female was still breathing. It was laboured breathing and her eyes were shut, but she was breathing. The black growled as Ceri approached; not a coherent sound, more a warning. Ceri looked up at him as she dropped to her knees. ‘I can help her. Please.’ He backed away a pace and Ceri reached forward to grip the arrow. ‘Lil, hold her shoulder, we need to get this out first.’ Lily did as she was asked, bracing the wolf’s body and Ceri pulled firmly on the arrow shaft. The she-wolf whined in pain and flecks of blood appeared on her lips; the arrow had at least grazed a lung. Thankfully it was a bodkin point, designed to breach armour, not a barbed one, and it came out cleanly. Taking Lily’s hand to supplement her own power, Ceri put her hand over the wound. For a couple of seconds, light flickered around Ceri’s fingers and the wound closed, leaving only a patch of matted fur to show it had been there.
The she-wolf let out another whine and struggled onto her stomach before turning her head and licking the side of Ceri’s face. Ceri giggled. ‘You’re welcome.’
The big male let out a soft growl. Me in you debt. She was going to argue that his mate would not have been hurt if his pack had not been guiding them, but she saw the look in his eyes and just nodded gravely. There was no point in trying to persuade him.
Turning her head, Ceri called out, ‘Bring that prick over here.’
A few seconds later Michael was unceremoniously dumping their lone prisoner against a rock at the side of the path and Ophelia was holding up a copper pendant. ‘Discord again,’ the Sidhe said. ‘Not a big surprise, but he’s one of them.’
Ceri nodded and got to her feet, moving to stand over the warrior. ‘Okay, we can do this…’ She paused, reconsidering her statement. ‘On second thoughts, there’s really only
hard ways. The wolves are pissed off, I’m pissed off, and Michael would like to pull your windpipe out through your arse. So here’s the deal. You answer all my questions and I’ll persuade the wolves to give you a ten minute head start. Or… well, I’ve been tortured a few times and I’ve kind of got something of an understanding of what to do. Like, I’m pretty sure I can keep you alive while the wolves eat your legs.’ She used her brightest voice at the last suggestion, and the black wolf gave a menacing growl to punctuate it.
The warrior swallowed. ‘What do you want to know?’
~~~
They reached the edge of the valley where the Discord encampment was located without further trouble thanks to the knowledge that they were being located through a locket which had been stolen from Ophelia at the same time as her dagger had been taken. Just to be sure, Ceri had cast spells to block scrying on all of them.
The other major thing they had confirmed on finding the camp was the size of the force. There were a lot of people, of various types, who appeared to owe their allegiance to Discord and had assembled here for whatever reason. The valley was large, roughly elliptical with the widest axis running east-west, and there were tents and campfires stretching across almost the entire floor of it.
‘Five thousand he said,’ Ophelia whispered. It was unlikely anyone could hear them from their vantage point above the valley, but they were taking no chances. ‘It doesn’t look like he was exaggerating much.’
‘What are those things?’ Michael asked, pointing down at the huge trolls patrolling the outer edge of the camp.
‘Ice trolls,’ Ophelia replied. ‘They don’t normally come down below the snow line. They’re not fond of heat. Bigger and stronger than mountain trolls, just as stupid. They make crap sentries, actually.’
‘Didn’t you say the hags you saw had white skin, Ceri?’ Twill asked.
‘Uh-huh. I mean, really white, like fresh snow.’
‘Ice hags,’ the fairy replied, nodding. ‘They’re good at weather magic. It’s said we get bad winters when they gather together and send storms into the lowlands so their trolls can hunt there.’
‘Great,’ Ceri grunted. ‘So we’ve got Sidhe and at least two variants of trolls…’
‘And sprites,’ Ishifa put in. ‘See the lights darting about between the fires? They’re probably using them as messengers.’
‘And those are some damn big wolves,’ Michael added. There were several of them about, each the size of a small pony, with black fur and red eyes. Some were patrolling with the trolls, some lying about the camp.
‘Vargs,’ Twill told him. ‘Fae beasts. They used to roam wild in Norway and Sweden at some points in your history. It’s good that our wolf friends have gone, they loathe each other.’
‘We’ll never manage to sneak in there past that lot,’ the werewolf commented.
‘So what do we do?’ Ophelia asked. ‘Head back to the palace and report the camp?’
‘We need more,’ Ceri replied. She sighed. ‘Stonehenge all over again.’
‘No,’ Lily hissed. ‘I am not sitting back and letting you do that again.’
‘Neither am I,’ Michael stated flatly.
‘Do what?’ Ophelia asked.
Ceri did not look around, her eyes staying on the traffic around the camp. ‘When Remus came to Britain to try to summon the demon-wolf Fenrir to Earth, he ended up setting up a camp near Stonehenge. We needed to know how to stop him and we couldn’t get close, so if I hadn’t done something we would have ended up having to attack him, uninformed and outnumbered, at the ritual. So I walked into his camp and gave myself up. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t kill me so it wasn’t a total gamble.’
‘Yeah, well, this lot will probably slit your throat.’
‘Not until they’ve found out where you lot are.’
‘So you get tortured to find out,’ Lily said. ‘Again. Are you starting to enjoy it?’
‘No,’ Ceri replied, sounding a little affronted. ‘The difference this time is that I’ve learned a few new tricks. I’ll be fine. Trust me.’
~~~
Ceri was pushed into the large tent on the end of a mountain troll’s thick arm. A Sidhe dressed in the black leather armour the Discord troops seemed to favour followed immediately after her, speaking as he entered.
‘Lord, we have a prisoner. The sorceress you sought.’ The man sounded pleased, sure that his leader would reward him for being the one bringing Ceri to him, even though she had actually handed herself over to a squad of ice trolls on the camp’s edge.
From the shadowed interior of the tent a hollow, but resonant, male voice sounded. ‘And her companions, Leoric? Where are they?’
Leoric’s voice lost its confident quality. ‘The hags remain unable to determine…’
‘So you come with one of six and expect me to be pleased?’
Leoric snapped to attention. ‘No, Lord. I’ll have our scrying efforts redoubled.’
‘They won’t be far. Send out varg hunting parties. I want them found.’ Leoric’s heels snapped together and he turned, marching out of the tent far faster than he had entered. ‘Guard, wait outside,’ the voice said, and Ceri’s neck was released. She actually felt the footsteps as the creature turned and left. ‘Please, have a seat, Ceridwyn Brent.’
The interior of this tent was significantly more opulent than the yurt the hags had occupied. It was made of thick, black fabric and held up on two poles a good six inches thick and ten feet in height. There were wooden tables with carefully tooled legs, and several chairs, all of them cushioned and medieval in design. Ceri settled into one of them and crossed her legs, arranging her skirts. She had brought the silly dress Twill had got for her for the wedding because it took up very little space and weight, and somehow she had felt it might be useful. Since she was trying to make an impression, she had worn it to walk into the camp and used a spell to keep herself warm. She was also wearing her crown since she was pretty sure that, even here, no one else could hold it without harm, but her staff she had left behind.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Might I see who I’m dealing with?’
A figure walked out of the shadow, tall and imposing, dressed in long, black robes with the discord sigil embroidered in a line down the front edges. But Ceri was still unable to see who she was talking to. The man wore a mask, a huge, horned helmet made of black metal. There was a ridge of sorts over the nose which gave it some shape, and there were rectangular holes for the eyes, but there was too much shadow to make out anything behind them. At his hip was a sword hung only from a cord and made from the same sort of black metal as the mask.
‘I prefer to remain anonymous. You may call me Tiarna mac Eris.’
‘Eris the goddess of discord? You’re mixing your mythologies.’ He laughed, a hollow sound; she suspected that the helmet altered his voice. ‘Will “Mack” do?’ She gave him a smile while her mind worked through a spell.
‘As you wish. My name matters not at this time.’ He moved forward, pulling a chair around so that he could sit facing her, legs crossed confidently. ‘I assume there is little point in my asking you to reveal the location of your friends? I’m loathe to use unpleasant measures to find the information…’
‘There’s no point, no.’
‘Huh. Have you ever been raped by a troll, Lady Brent?’
‘No. Several human mercenaries and an angel, but never a troll. I’d imagine it hurts.’
‘You don’t appear particularly concerned?’
Ceri smiled again as the thoughts in the surface of his mind flickered through her own. The weird thing was that his main thought was that he was attracted to her. That did not mean he would not tie her up in a tent with a couple of horny trolls however. ‘I… I walked into your camp knowing I’d be captured and that you would try to extract that information from me. I’m also confident in my friends’ ability to hide from your people. My boyfriend is a werewolf, he’s exceptionally good at keeping himself out of sight.’
‘Four of them are practitioners, scent won’t be an issue. Here’s the deal.’ He was quite controlled, she needed to try to get him to think what she wanted. ‘We need the Sidhe you sent to murder Joshia Darksun. You hand him over, we take him to Oberon, clear Ophelia’s name, and no one has to know how we found him.’ “Mack” was either very controlled, or he actually did not know who the killer was. He knew about the murder, certainly, but no name and no face were coming into his mind. ‘I really don’t care about your political machinations, but I won’t let an innocent woman be killed.’ She turned to a different spell, trying to dig deeper.
The hollow laugh sounded again. ‘Here’s my deal. In less than a month, we will be ready to move on Oberon, Titania, and the rest of those simpering fools at the Summer Palace. I will take the throne, but I can’t rule without a queen. Forget about the Silvershield woman and rule with me. A union of this world and the Demon Realm would be powerful enough to take Earth too. You’ll be the queen of it all.’
Whoever this was, he simply did not know who it was who had killed Joshia. It had been some assassin in the Discord movement, and “Mack” had simply ordered that it should be done. ‘So that’s your plan?’ She widened her eyes, disbelieving, as she dug for the answer to the only other thing she could think of to look for. ‘You’re going to depose the current rulers, take control of Otherworld, and take me as your bride?’
‘Simple in conception, but obviously far from simple in execution,’ he replied smoothly.
‘Yeah, well, I’m not really concerned with the governance of this world. I’m not actually associated with the court here, or the government in Britain. I’d imagine that both would have something to say about your plans, but that’s not my problem. However, I already have a mate, and a pet demon, I really don’t need a husband, consort, or anything else on top of that.’
She felt like she could almost see him smiling through the iron mask. ‘What makes you think you have a choice? Guard!’ The tent flap opened and the troll entered swiftly for such a big creature. ‘Take her somewhere and do whatever you need to to get her friends’ location. Don’t kill her.’