![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Some silliness, then you can have Poison like I promised
Someone today called me immature. At this, I could only think "Duh?"
Case in point:
I was running a copy job and noticed the last name on the file was Bellfontaine. I said "Hey, I've stolen this name before. I can't remember for which story, but I know I stole this for someone's surname."
My coworkers in the copy center chatted with me about names and how one named her fish after another name we saw come through, and the one asked if I was ever going to use the name of a certain county, one of the more amusing ones -- Tippecanoe.
Yes, that is said exactly the way it looks. I asked three natives before I believed anyone. Tip A Canoe. That is how it's said.
My response was thus:
"If I ever write a really bad western thing, I'm so naming the Indian that. It's over. Done. Poor Indian."
So, yes. Best never to be in public with meespecially when the suckers give me sugar.
Chapter Seventeen
When he finally got out of this room, Noire vowed, he was never going inside again. He would live outside, never to be trapped by four walls again.
Unless Gael dragged him inside. To his bed. Then he’d go.
Noire rolled his eyes at himself and went back to contemplating the incredibly boring, ugly ceiling.
It felt, suddenly, as though he were waiting. Not simply enduring the days, but waiting for something that was going to happen soon.
Of course, most of that had to with the fact that when he’d woken, instead of simply food he’d had a bath, shaving and cleaning supplies, and fresh clothes waiting. His own clothes; an older pair of black breeches, a jacket he seldom wore anymore. The entire set was composed of older clothes, stuff he could not wear in court but kept around to wear when he was running around the lower-class portions of the city for Freddie.
He wished he could think it was a positive sign – that shortly he was going to be free to go, free to run straight to Gael’s arms. Instead, he had the sinking feeling someone was just being polite before they removed him from the picture entirely.
Noire slowly sat up, unable to bear being still for too long, and resumed the pacing that had become his only way to avoid giving in to mindless screaming. He did not want to act as he had that very first day, when he’d shredded the walls, much of the room, with his claws. That would waste energy, and so many days in confinement had already softened him far more than he liked.
He wanted out. If the Queen came to take him, he was determined to avoid letting her get him as she had the first time…not that he had any idea how to avoid the Queen’s compulsions, but he would have to try. Surely it could be done.
Was the Ceremony taking place? He had tried hard to keep track of the days, but he simply could not be certain how long he’d been unconscious that first day. He had only the meals to judge by, and going by those the Ceremony would be taking place either today or tomorrow.
If he could judge anything by the bath and clothes, he would say it was taking place now. As he paced, Gael was becoming a real and true Guardian of Verde. The thought warmed Noire, to know that Gael would be taking his proper place. For all that he grumbled and groused, fussed and made faces, Gael’s life suited him – and he liked it.
Noire refused to believe that something was going wrong. Gael wouldn’t mess up; he hated making mistakes.
He didn’t think the Queen would mess up, either – not if all his ridiculous thoughts and suppositions were even remotely close to the truth. Nor could he see Freddie doing something, which meant that if anything were going to go wrong, it would come from an outside source.
It was driving him mad, being locked up with his own thoughts, guessing and supposing but never knowing. All he wanted was to know what was going on, if everyone was all right – if he would ever see Gael again.
He supposed that last was rather more than a kidnapper would be willing to tell him.
‘A kidnapper.’ Noire snorted at himself. He needed to just admit that it was really and truly the Queen responsible, as much as he still cringed to even think such an awful thing. Only the Queen could ever manage a room as bizarre is this, with meals and baths appearing while he slept or even turned his back for too long. No one else had such powerful magic.
Questions still remained, teasing and taunting him, but Noire refused to indulge them. He was done with pondering problems about which he could do nothing. All he cared about was getting out of here – a goal to which he’d put thorough and extensive effort, time and time again. So far, he could find nothing. No hidden catches or levers, no slits which could indicate a door, not even a hole through which a small Form could fit. Nothing.
If he were not so determined to save his energy, to be ready for anything, he would tear the room apart in a fit of temper.
Noire gave up pacing and once more collapsed upon the bed, this time with his face down in the pillow. He turned it to stare at the wall across the room, eyes distant as he went through each and every thing he intended to do when he saw Gael again.
The thoughts were hideously distracting, but not quite enough to make him forget that it was still highly questionable – despite his determination – whether he would get to see Gael to do the things he wanted.
He was tired of it all. Weary. He wished he could sleep, at least then he could escape to dreams for a while longer, instead of sitting and waiting for what was likely his death.
Surely, though, if the Ceremony succeeded then Gael would know where to find him? How to find him? Noire clung to that, shoving away older worries that were trying to surface.
Gael loved him. When he was a god, Gael would still love him. Noire knew that. Gael had promised, had sworn it over and over again. He was only beginning to doubt now because so much already weighted heavy on his mind.
All he wanted was out of this room! Was that too much to ask? Snarling, Noire shifted and hopped down from the bed, pacing, stalking around the confining quarters, tail lashing with angry restlessness.
It took every bit of self-control he had left not to throw himself at the walls and start slashing at them, attempt to claw through them, even throw himself at them in futile hope of revealing something.
There was no way out, he told himself for what seemed the millionth time. No way that he was able to find. He had no choice but to wait until someone came to take him away. Rescue him, he hoped, but if Ailill were capable of finding him, surely he would have already?
Noire shook his head back and forth, negating his own thoughts. Not if the Queen was behind it. Only the Guardians came close to her in power. Queen Etain had kidnapped him, and that meant she had probably hidden him beyond even the Beasts’ ability to find him. He was well and truly hidden.
His only chance of escape was to get by Etain or whomever she might send in her place. Someone would be coming, he knew. The bath and clothes had proven that. A courtesy, no doubt – no kidnapper cared about how their victim looked, or at least Noire could not imagine why they would care.
The compulsion hit him just as he reached the wall against which the bed was pressed, with so much force that for a moment he could not move. Even the Queen’s compulsion was not as strong as this one.
Tell us where you are. Noire, tell us where you are!
Noire yowled, screamed, roared with all his might, obeying the compulsion with all his strength, unable to resist even if he’d wanted to.
All the Beasts, or nearly all – only so many could create a compulsion so strong, and directed solely at him. They had to be close, compulsions didn’t work over great distances. They were close.
They weren’t hearing him.
Noire! Tell us!
Where are you?
We bid you tell us.
Tell us your location at once.
With every bit of energy he could muster, Noire answered the compulsion, screaming and growling, roaring and snarling until he had to stop to breathe, panting with exertion. Then he attacked the walls, clawing and scraping, desperate to make any sound that would give his location away. They had to hear, they were close, they would find him, they just had to find him.
Then abruptly the compulsions stopped, leaving Noire suddenly alone and bereft. Utterly devastated.
Until he’d heard the compulsions, proof that he was not completely alone in the world, the sheer weight of his loneliness had not hit him. Come back, he begged silently. Mercy of the gods come back!
Nothing. Noire waited and waited, but no more compulsions came. He hadn’t been loud enough. Strong enough. They hadn’t heard him.
Shifting back, Noire knelt on the floor and screamed in despair.
“I felt something!” Verenne snapped. “I am not crazy.”
“No one said you were,” Seraphin said wearily. “Only that we did not feel it.”
Ailill shook his head. “I did, but I hardly trust myself anymore. If Verenne felt it, though, then I say we give the two of us the benefit of the doubt.”
Lyall groaned and closed her eyes, pressing fingertips to them. “I cannot believe we are searching the Queen’s wing. I cannot believe we are about to invade her suite. Her bedroom.”
Beside her, Giles snorted. “I am still trying to accept that the Queen is guilty.” He shook his head slowly back and forth. “I think when it is proven all too true, I will still be trying to accept it.”
“So you believe us, at least?” Seraphin asked as Ivan broke open the lock on the doors that led into the Queen’s royal chambers. One entire wing of the palace was devoted to her private use; only the Guardians and precious few footmen – all of them compelled to leave only minutes ago – ever entered.
Verenne made a face as they slid inside. “I’d say it’s interesting she feels the need to keep the door locked.”
Karp snorted softly as he and the others joined the Beasts, returning from where they’d been double checking that no one else was in the vicinity. “Obviously she has good reason.”
Maksim shrugged. “Could also have been one of the footmen. What next, boss?”
Ivan motioned to his men, who immediately fanned out at the silent command. “Guard here. The Beasts are more suited to this search. Drive away anyone who comes; keep it quiet.”
“Yes, boss,” the six men chorused.
“Where should we search?” Ivan asked, turning to Ailill.
Ailill frowned in thought. “I could not place the direction of Noire’s…” He shook his head. “I could feel him screaming, trying to obey the compulsion. It was not strong enough for me to pinpoint the location, or even a general direction.”
“We have been trying for the past three hours,” Matilda said, “and that is the first time we have gotten any sort of indication. We have checked everywhere else the Queen spends her time. If he is anywhere, it is now definitely clear that he must be here.”
“Yes, but where?” Ailill asked, growing, frustrated. “How can he be so close and yet still so clearly far? We heard him, but only just. That was all twelve of us together.”
Lyall looked at them impatiently. “We will not know until we start looking. A clue will turn up. Stop talking and do.” She shifted to her Wolf Form, then took off down the hallway, vanishing into the first door she encountered.
“She is right,” Ailill said. “Spread out and search.”
“I will take the bedroom,” Verenne said, face set in stubborn lines.
“And I,” Seraphin said. “Two sets of eyes would be better than one.”
Ailill nodded. “I will come too, to provide a large Form.”
The two nodded in agreement, and all three and Ivan headed that way.
Queen Etain’s room was as beautiful as the Queen herself, decorated in an array of soft, rainbow pastels, trimmed with slight hints of silver and gold, sunlight pouring in through the windows to set everything alight, the room reminiscent of the wings that graced the Queen’s back.
A tea tray still rested on the small table by one of the windows, the contents of two fragile-looking teacups long since cooled, the remains of a honey pastry still on small china plate.
Ailill paused, curious, as he caught sight of something else on the table. A tiny decanter bottle of pure crystal and an equally fine cordial glass. He picked it up and sniffed, part of him screaming that he was wasting his time, some other instinct telling him this somehow mattered. “Vanya,” he called, and motioned his lover closer, then motioned to the bottle and glass.
Ivan frowned. “Something about it bothers you?”
“Yes, though I could not say why.”
“If it bothers you, that’s enough.” Ivan picked up the empty decanter and lifted the lid, then sniffed carefully at it. The slightest trace of an amber liquid remained inside. He closed it again, then stalked to the door. “Gleb!” he roared, startling Verenne and Seraphin.
Barely a second later Gleb appeared, slight and quick and alert. “Boss?”
Ivan motioned him to follow and shoved the decanter at him when they reached the table. “What do you make of it?”
Gleb removed the stopper of the decanter and took a cautious sniff, then a deeper one. Frowning in thought, he ran his finger along the rim and then licked it. “Fire and ash, boss.”
“What does that mean?” Ailill asked, suddenly anxious.
“It means I’m totally scorched by it. Never seen a thing like it – I definitely can taste a trace of at least three different nasties.” He rattled off a list of names that meant nothing to Ailill, then continued to list off half a dozen more, tacking on, “Could be in here, too hard to tell for sure. It tastes like a good brandy, boss. Maybe one of those fancy tonics the scorching nobles like so much.”
Ivan nodded. “Thank you.”
“Sure, boss,” Gleb set the decanter down and went back to his post outside.
“What did all that mean?” Ailill demanded, thoroughly confused.
“Gleb’s parents were healers,” Ivan said. “He knows quite a bit about such things – especially the sort that can poison. That’s why his first merc band hired him on. He thinks there were at least three, possibly more, different kinds of poisons in here. So skillfully blended that most people would only taste a good brandy or medicinal tonic.”
Ailill stared at the table, then at Ivan. “There’s two cups. One cordial glass. One poisoned the other?” It made him sick to think of it…for if all they were supposing was true…then the Queen had poisoned someone this morning. “Not to kill, surely…”
Ivan shrugged his broad shoulders. “I could not say, lover. Let us hope not.”
“Hey!” Verenne suddenly cried out excitedly. “There may be something here!” She didn’t wait for their reply, but immediately turned and dashed back into the bedroom where she and Seraphin had vanished.
Exchanging a look with his lover, Ailill immediately bolted after her. He entered the room to find a Mongoose minutely examining the wall above the headboard of Etain’s enormous bed.
Just thinking of what would happen to them if they were horribly wrong and anyone ever found out that during the Ceremony the Twelve Great Beasts had pawed through the Queen’s chambers, that a Mongoose had climbed all over her bed…Ailill definitely did not want to think about it.
Suddenly the Mongoose started yapping, nearly falling down the headboard in his excitement to get to them. Then it paused, seemed to shake itself – and Seraphin shifted back.
Putting his boots all over the Queen’s pillows. “There is something here,” he said. “A very faint draft. Get someone who can better tell. Better yet – get someone who can just break down the wall.”
“Break down a wall in the Queen’s bedroom,” Ailill said, shaking his head in wonder. Beside him, Ivan vanished to fetch the required Beasts. In minutes the Queen’s bedchamber was filled with all twelve Great Beasts of Verde.
“Am I the only one who feels like I’m about to be taken out into the yard and thrashed?” The White Ram asked dryly.
“No,” Ailill murmured. “Definitely not. Let’s move this bed and see what we get.”
Noire wiped his face, furious at the tears that had gotten the better of him.
Still, the silence around him seemed to scream. He never thought he would enjoy being so strongly compelled, but they had been so very close…and he had not been able to make them hear. He had ruined his own chance of ever getting rescued.
A crashing sound shattered the silence, making him jump, and Noire looked wildly around the room, unable to believe what he was hearing. Another crash, muffled but definitely audible. Noire held his breath, then raced toward the wall from which it seemed to be coming.
Tell us where you are.
“Here!” Noire screamed. “I’m in here! Please!” He banged his fists against the wall, screaming as loud and long as he could for help, banging until his hands ached.
The compulsion faded and he nearly gave in to despair when movement caught the corner of his eye.
A hole in the wall – he had looked, how – and then something long, thin and white.
Noire drew a breath, and before he could release it Earl Seraphin Bellerose stood before him.
“You are here!” Seraphin cried, grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking Noire gently, as if reassuring himself he was not seeing things. “I’ve got him!’ he bellowed. “Herve, now!” He tightened his hold on Noire’s shoulders and hauled him away from the wall they stood beside.
The banging started a split-second later, the wall shuddering with the force of the blows inflicted upon it. Dust blew up from the velvet covering the wall – then the velvet began to tear, the wood behind it to crack and split. Two hard, ground-shaking blows later the section of wall caved in, a mess of stone, mortar, velvet, wood, and dust.
On the opposite side stood Herve le Grand, the White Bear, his pristine coat covered in grime and dust. If knocking down the wall had caused him trouble, however, he gave no sign of it. The massive bear nodded at them, then slowly backed out of the short tunnel that was nearly too small for him.
“Noire!” Ailill appeared as Herve moved way, and Noire broke from Seraphin’s grasp to embrace his friend.
“You found me!” he said, shaking with relief. “Is everything—the Ceremony—” His eyes widened. “The Queen! She’s the one!”
“I knew it,” Verenne said, voice low and hard, as she joined them in the small chamber. “That witch. I have not trusted her since Freddie so abruptly discarded me for her.” She looked around the room. “Why such a place as this?”
Ivan answered, face hard. “It is secluded, secure. Not just from servants and the like, but from Beasts and, I suspect, even Guardians. I do not think under ordinary circumstances that we would have ever found it. Now we must hurry.”
“Yes,” Ailill said. “The Queen poisoned someone, we found the remains of it on her table.”
“Freddie,” Verenne hissed in surprise. “She always has something to drink when she’s nervous, even if it’s just a light cordial with her tea.”
“That is precisely what she had,” Ailill said, a cold chill running down his spine.
Noire shifted, not able to stand around and talk. The Queen had kidnapped him and poisoned Freddie. What else was she going to do? He ignored the cries to stop, the demands to know what he was doing. He raced off, through the halls, down the stairs, straight toward the great hall and the room beyond it.
Above him was a sharp, screeching sound, shadows fluttering across the floor in time with the beating of leathery wings – the White Bat flew above him. Noire rumbled a low growl at her, and Verenne screeched back, and both hurried on, oblivious to who might see them, who was following them.
When they reached the double doors that led to the Ceremony room, Noire shifted back, Verenne beside him. He tested one, relieved to find it was not locked – but of course it wouldn’t be. People would need a way to get inside and retrieve the bodies, should the Ceremony fail.
He wasn’t thinking of that right now. Shoving hard at the left door, Verenne at the right, they threw the doors open and then raced off down the hallway. He glanced briefly at the mural running the length of it, distantly noting the splendor, but his mind was too preoccupied with the doors at the far end, beautifully, intricately carved, and the only thing now that was keeping him from Gael.
Barely in time he shifted back, meeting the door at a run, using his momentum to shove the leftmost open, shifting back to Form as he spilled inside, Verenne sailing in right above him.
A strange sort of calm struck him as he ventured further inside, padding over a small bridge and onto a shining tile floor. Not thirty paces away stood the Queen and Guardians, radiant and breathtaking in their Forms.
Noire could feel himself tremble, to see Gael, to see him so close…and far too close to the treacherous Queen. He still did not understand why she had done all that she had, but he knew he couldn’t let her get away with it. Even if that meant interrupting the Ceremony that had the three figures standing beneath the tree so focused they had not noticed the intruders.
Well, they were about to. Noire tensed and then screamed, an eerie growling cry that he knew had terrified people in the past. He settled to a low, warning growl as the three figures started, their prayers faltering, and Gael whirled around to face him.
Chapter Eighteen
Ailill raced down the hallway, barely noticing the murals except to note that they were as beautiful as those on the domes in the Cathedrals of Pozhar.
Behind him raced Ivan and all the rest, six mercenaries and ten Beasts.
Someway, somehow, this Ceremony was already proving to be drastically different than all the rest.
They spilled inside and Ailill noted Ivan immediately moving into his role of leader, dispersing the sixteen men and women along the perimeter, just behind the artificial stream that circled the length of it.
In the center, the Unicorn moved immediately toward Noire, who was crouched low in the grass, as if ready to spring and attack at any moment.
The Queen kept hold of the Unicorn, however, clearly not allowing him to leave the triad the two of them plus Freddie created. Ailill saw that the Pegasus, by contrast, was not trying to move at all, though her gaze was locked on Verenne, who had shifted back to human to stand just behind Noire.
Let me go. Gael’s voice rang out across the glade, rippling through the minds of all present.
“I cannot,” Etain said calmly. “The Ceremony has begun.”
I do not care, Gael snarled in reply. We can resume the prayers. Noire!
Giving one of the quick screaming-snarls that Ivan had said before sounded eerie, Noire then shifted back. “Gael!” He obviously wanted nothing more than to bolt for his unicorn, but he immediately looked past him toward the Queen. “Gael – she kidnapped me.”
What? Gael asked, voice slow and shocked.
“Enough,” Etain replied. “I will not tolerate such interruptions. Go to sleep, panther—”
No! Gael replied, his horn flashing as he countered the compulsion the Queen was obviously trying to lay upon Noire. No magic. Etain, tell me this is not true.
“You would believe him over me?” Etain asked, expression wounded, voice full of hurt.
Yes. Gael’s reply was immediate and sure. I would. Tell me he is wrong and you are not the one who kidnapped him.
Why…why would she kidnap my messenger? Freddie asked.
Because Noire is my lover. He is my heart and soul.
The Pegasus stilled with surprise, head immediately turning to regard Noire, then swiveling back to look at Gael. Never would I have known…but that makes even less sense. Etain, solve this riddle for us.
Etain stroked her hand over the Pegasus’ nose. “You know, beloved, that I want only what is best for you and our treasured Unicorn.”
Yes…of course, Etain…so tell us why they think these strange things.
Ailill frowned. “Poison,” he muttered. “Freddie has been poisoned. Noire, Verenne…” He turned to Ivan. “We should not simply be standing here.”
Ivan shook his head. “I do not like it either, but…let us see what they can do. Don’t you feel it?”
“Maybe,” Ailill muttered, and settled down to his discontent. His eyes fell once more upon the group in the center. The Queen, the Guardians, one Beast, and…merciful gods…but Noire wasn’t a stranger. Everyone knew who he was. Well, enough knew him that if they’d found him dead in this chamber, he would be identifiable. “Vanya.”
“I noticed,” Ivan said quietly. “We will not let them kill each other, but I think this is something that must be settled amongst them…it is obvious the Queen has hidden much.”
Ailill nodded. “Yes.”
“I will answer all your questions,” Etain said in the face of the accusations, “but not until the Ceremony is complete. Right now that is all that matters. Nothing else. Come, my Guardians, my beloveds, you know it’s true.”
Yes, Freddie said.
“Freddie!” Verenne suddenly shouted, calling out to her ex-lover. “You’ve been poisoned. A cordial. Did you drink a cordial this morning?”
What? Freddie asked. Poisoned? Don’t be ridiculous. I am tired of your absurd accusations, White Bat. Is that why you came here? Did you bring Noire into your games? To get back at me simply because you are still livid that I broke off our liaison?
Poisoned? Gael echoed. I cannot believe… He stepped forward, ignoring the delicate hand that clung tightly to his golden mane, and dipped his head to lay his horn against Freddie.
Freddie recoiled. How dare you, brother! You try to purify me, taking the side of liars, implying that you think our sister capable of these terrible things? She loves us. We love her. I will not allow you to sully our union by purifying what does not need cleansed because you allow these lies to cloud your thinking. How can you be so cruel to us?
If I am wrong, dear sister, then all that results is my looking like a stupid, gullible fool. There is no harm there except to me, and I accept full blame if I am mistaken. So, come, let me cleanse you whether you need it or not.
Get away! Freddie bellowed, jerking free of Etain’s hold to turn and slam her back hooves hard into Gael, the force of it sending the Unicorn reeling back, falling to the ground as he lost his balance.
“Gael!” Noire bellowed, bolting forward, oblivious to the warnings hurtled at him by Etain. He dropped to his knees beside the Unicorn. “Gael, are you all right?”
With a pained whinny that shifted into a groan, Gael shifted back. “I will manage,” he said, face contorted in pain as he looked up at his sister. “I cannot believe you did that, Freddie. I intended you no harm.”
You treat me like you do not trust me.
Gael stormed to his feet. “My lover—”
About whom you never told me. You kept it secret that my messenger was your lover. Why, Gael? Beloved brother? Why do you not trust me?
“Because I knew if I told anyone – anyone – that Noire would die!” Gael bellowed, balling his hands into fists. “Do you think I enjoyed it? Keeping to myself that Noire is my reason for living? Do you think I liked not being able to confide in my sisters, whom I should be able to trust in all things?” He threw his hands out. “I hated it! Every second of it! Then he was kidnapped, and I was told that if I did not see this Ceremony properly completed that he would die! He tells me Etain kidnapped him and you claim that I have no reason not to trust my sisters?”
“Please,” Etain pleaded, looking anxiously between them. “Now is not the time for this. We must first finish the Ceremony, my beloved sister and brother.”
“No!” Gael snarled at her. “Not until I know what is going on.”
You have lost your mind, Freddie replied, her wings moving restlessly on her back. You are not the Gael I know and love.
“Nor are you the Freddie who has always stood by my side! You have been acting strangely all day.”
“For months,” Verenne suddenly cut in, striding forward to stand with Gael and Noire. “Freddie, you have not been yourself since you came home and told me we were finished.”
You cannot say those words clearly, Freddie protested. You have been volatile since I ended the affair. If anyone is not right, it is you.
Tears sprang up in Verenne’s eyes, making them bright, but she lifted her chin and fought back. “Say what you want. I think it is the poison speaking. If you are so certain you are not poisoned, what is the harm in letting the Unicorn touch you?
I will not be so callously treated by my own brother. Etain trusts me, why can’t he?
“Etain is the one who poisoned you,” Verenne said. “We found the decanter that held the cordial you drank.”
You know I always drink such things when I have something difficult to do. That is hardly a reason to think she has poisoned me.
“It was poisoned!” Gleb interjected, voice as sharp and quick as the man, cutting across the field. “I tasted at least three, possibly as many as nine. Not meant to kill, any one of them could have done that.”
“Stay out of this, interfering child of the soft Firebird!” Etain bellowed, power rippling out, leaves of the oak stirring as she sent out a pulse of energy to drive them back.
Luka stepped forward, arms splayed wide, and his eyes flickered like a candle flaring to life – and flames sprang up, almost as if from the stream, absorbing the Queen’s magic before snuffing out, leaving only steam to slowly fade away.
Etain’s eyes widened. “Impossible. No child of the Firebird knows such magic anymore.”
Ivan and his men threw their heads back and laughed, but an edge to the jovial sound kept anyone else from smiling. Ivan looked grimly at her. “We were blessed with magic by Zhar Ptitka himself. We remain where we are to let you work out your own fight,” he shot a warning look at Gleb. “Do not attack us again.”
Frowning, furious, Etain ignored them and shifted her attention elsewhere. “Please, let us not bicker, my darling siblings. I cannot believe you would engage in such childish arguments when we are so close to finishing the Ceremony. That is what matters right now. The people matter. Our children matter. Not these petty squabbles. Come, please.”
You are right, Etain. Of course. Gael, please. We love each other, and we love our children more. We can set aside our own differences, surely, to finish the Ceremony.
“No,” Gael said vehemently. “I will not finish the Ceremony when there are lies, betrayal, and distrust between us. If you love me, sisters, then grant me this one boon and forestay the Ceremony until all is satisfactorily explained.”
Now you stand there demanding proof of our love for you? In the form of putting aside that which affects the people of Verde? Gael…you are the one who should not be trusted.
Ailill barely kept himself still, aching to do something to help. He could not stand to watch Freddie speak so cruelly…all around him he could feel the agony of his fellow Beasts of the West, mingling with the pain of the Beasts of the East as they listened to Gael try and fail to get through to Freddie.
What he didn’t miss, however, was the way Gael’s hand was tangled tightly with Noire’s. The way Noire stood close to Gael, unflinching despite Freddie’s fury and Etain’s growing impatience. To be the focus of either woman’s anger was a fearsome thing, but to be the focus of both – Ailill did not envy anyone standing in that inner circle. Still, Gael and Noire stood unmistakably together, and though they’d barely spoken, barely looked at each other, too busy with all that went on around them, that they shared something was impossible to miss. Ailill marveled that they’d both managed to keep it a secret for so long. It seemed so blatantly obvious, now…
“I am sorry,” Gael said, quiet but fervent. “That was not my intention. I merely ask a favor, not proof. Not once have I ever meant to betray the trust of my sisters. The trust of anyone. I would never have done the things I did, if I did not fear for the life of the man I love. Surely you would have done the same for the woman you love?”
Of course I would do anything for Etain. Am I not standing against you out of love for you both?
Gael shook his head. “I don’t mean Etain. Of course we love her.” He looked at Etain, whose impatience was clear, mingling with anxiety and anger. “We will always love you, each other, but when I said the woman you love, Freddie – I meant Verenne.”
Verenne? Freddie turned her head to look at the woman who had fallen silent, standing quietly as the argument between siblings raged. Verenne and I…our relationship is over. Etain is the only woman I love.
“Just as you are the only woman I love,” Etain murmured, stepping close and stroking Freddie’s neck, murmuring softly, nuzzling her cheek against Freddie’s soft nose.
A tear traced down Verenne’s cheek – then she turned angry. “I refuse to believe it, you conniving little—!” With a scream of rage she threw herself at Etain, knocking the Queen to the ground and hitting her hard, blood spilling as Etain’s lips split – before the Queen resumed control and with a surge of magic shoved Verenne off her to land hard, head cracking against the tile.
Verenne lay still.
Verenne…Verenne…
“See?” Etain said, picking herself up, smoothing out the delicate skirt of her dress, which now bore grass stains. Her hair too was a mess, bits of grass stuck to it, diadem knocked off in the fall. “Petty, violent woman.”
Gael stared at Etain, the sadness in his face so great Ailill nearly looked away. Why? Why couldn’t his feet move? Why wouldn’t they obey him? It was just like Ivan said – they could not, should not cross.
“Etain, now more than ever I believe you are the betrayer here. How could you be so cruel to a child of Verde when she is obviously suffering from pain and grief? Perhaps – and I truly do wonder – Freddie no longer loves her, but any fool can see that Verenne loves Freddie. Yet you call her a petty, violent woman.” Turning on his heel, slowly letting go of his hold on Noire’s hand, Gael knelt before Verenne and turned her over. The blood that had been hidden by her hair was now apparent, thick and dark on the corner of her head.
Verenne. My Beast! Freddie shook her head fretfully back and forth, wings flapping and flexing in agitation, loose feathers falling slowly to the ground. She moved toward Gael and the fallen Verenne – only to be stopped short by Etain.
Etain licked blood from her lips, one hand fisted in Freddie’s mane, the other on her neck, keeping the Pegasus in place. “Don’t you see?” she said, looking from Freddie to Gael, from Noire to Verenne. “These two are the poison!” She lifted one hand to point at Noire, then Verenne. “Did it ever occur to you, dear siblings, that these two are the reason the Ceremony always goes awry? Tempting you away from what truly matters? From the real, loving bond that you already have? They distract you, draw you away! They are pretty, attractive, I know, but they are poison!” Tears gathered in her eyes. “They steal you away from the only bond you need, the one you already have.”
They…Freddie tossed her head at the words, wings flaring out, catching the light, flashing like moonlight. What do you mean ‘they’ beloved sister. I love you, no other. My heart and soul are you and Gael, as has always been, as will ever be.
“Yes,” Etain whispered. “Exactly. Now if only Gael would wake to reason.”
Gael ignored them save for a brief glare, more concerned with whispering soft words over Verenne, stopping the bleeding and healing what he could of the wound.
Ailill tensed as he watched Noire step forward, putting himself between Gael and Etain.
“You said you hated me,” Noire said. “I remember that. Most of what you said doesn’t make sense to me, but I remember you said you hated me.”
Gael slowly looked up, brown eyes moving to Noire, then to Etain beyond him. “What precisely did she say?”
Noire’s hands balled into fists as he stared down the Queen, who looked at him in growing fury. Ailill felt the surge of power as whatever the Queen attempted was countered by Gael. Freddie stood restlessly by, obviously anxious but unable to act.
She was clearly poisoned. All it would take was the touch of Gael’s horn – but she had already harmed him. Getting that close to her would not be easy, especially with Etain also now willing to resort to violence.
Ailill could all too clearly see, now, how the Ceremony always ended in tragedy.
Had the Faerie Queen been this duplicitous the entire time? Was she really so jealous and…cruel? He shook his head, unable to believe it. Surely, surely, there was some other explanation.
Noire’s voice was remarkably calm as he finally answered Gael’s questions. “She said ‘In a thousand years, not once has that spirit changed. Through mu—”
A scream of rage cut him off, as the Queen howled in fury, her magic blazing wildly – the magic, painted sun overhead flaring so brightly the light was blinding, the leaves of the oak tree shaking as though beset by a storm.
Then Noire cried out, and only Ivan’s hand on his arm kept Ailill from bolting across the bridge as Noire dropped like a weighted sack to the ground, the fury of the Queen drowned out only be Gael’s scream of pain and rage.
Just as abruptly as it had flared, the surge of magic died, leaving only a stark, heavy silence.
Gael clutched Noire close, and Ailill could not hear the words he muttered. Tenderly Gael set Noire down – then threw himself forward, shifting as he did, once more the bright and shining Unicorn. His horn glowed, even more painfully bright than that which had only moments ago shone down from above.
He surged forward, scream both vocal and silent, so loud in the minds of those present that only the beasts managed to stand against the force of it, Ivan and his men dropping to their knees at the force of the pain caused by the echoing thoughts.
Oblivious to all of it, Gael threw himself at Etain, horn lowered and glinting. I will never forgive you, Etain. Never.
Etain stood still, unfazed – and at the last moment Freddie threw herself between them, screaming in pain as Gael’s horn drove into her side.
No! Freddie! No!
Gael pulled back, horn pulling free, dripping blood. His nostrils flared, head tossing, as agony over his mistake ripped through him. No, Freddie…why, you stupid horse! He immediately moved forward again, this time laying his horn gently across her neck. It shimmered, rather than glowed, and the shimmer spread over Freddie, glittering brightly for a single moment before vanishing.
Freddie…Gael stepped away, head drooping, golden mane just touching the grass. He shifted back to human, and caught Freddie as she did the same, hugging his sister close. “You were poisoned.”
Freddie held him tight, as though clinging for dear life, seemingly oblivious to the blood that stained the side and front of her dress. Slowly she relaxed her hold, lifting her head to meet his gaze, the two making some silent exchange – then she turned around in a burst of movement and punched Etain hard, sending the Queen banging into the oak tree with a pained, startled cry.
“You—you—” Freddie screamed in rage and hefted Etain to her feet, shaking her hard before throwing her to the ground again. “I cannot believe you, Etain. I had no idea you were so venomous and cruel.”
Slowly, mustering all the dignity she could, Etain picked herself up and smoothed out her skirts and hair. “As I said before, brother, sister, I do what is best for you. Always, always, you are the ones I have loved best. You loved me…until these poisonous creatures came along and tried to steal you away. From me, from each other. After you found them, no one came to see me. I had to summon you to see a smile, to feel a kiss.” She smiled bitterly at them. “Suddenly too good, too preoccupied, to remember me.”
“A poor excuse,” Freddie said contemptuously. “If that were true, all you had to do was tell us you felt that way. You know that. We have always tried to be honest with each other.”
“Yet the very moment you fell prey to these poisons, you started hedging, keeping secrets, keeping your distance…” Etain glared. “It is all their fault. I tried to save you, to make you realize, to give you back everything you truly need here today. As usual, however, these vile creatures have ruined everything.”
Gael shook his head. “Speak of Verenne and Noire in such a way again, Etain, and I truly will kill you. We hurt you, fine, but that is no excuse for the terrible things you’ve done.”
“They are poison!” Etain raged, her power flaring again as her temper snapped. “When will you see that! I hate them! I hate them!” She screamed her fury, the chamber spinning as wildly out of control as it had before, and she made to attack the closest of the unconscious figures – Noire.
Gael sprang forward, Freddie beside him, and they threw themselves at the enraged Queen, knocking her back, down, sending all three of them crashing into the great oak tree.
Everything died.
Stilled.
Even the sunlight overhead seemed to dim.
Freddie and Gael looked at each other, at Etain lying still, eyes closed, between them, their hands where they lay upon the oak, Etain’s head just touching it.
The leaves of the tree began to rustle, gently at first, then with more force. At the base of the oak, the three figures touching it began to shimmer, flaring brightly before fading, only to flare more brightly than before in a chaos of gold and silver light.
Abruptly everything stilled once more, the entire room going dark before it just as suddenly filled with sunlight.
At the base of the oak were three familiar figures. Freddie stood to the right, her dress cleansed of blood, showing no signs of having suffered a single wound, of having attacked and fought with her sister. Beside her stood Gael, as calm and reserved as he usually was.
There was one difference, and all the Beasts stirred to see the slight change – Freddie’s eyes were now the brilliant blue of a summer sky. Gael’s were no longer brown, but the rich, vibrant green of new spring.
Between them, sitting on the ground, pooled in the skirts of her rainbow gown, Etain sobbed into her hands. Upon her back her wings were grander and more colorful than ever, one of the most beautiful things Ailill had ever seen.
The Faerie Queen and Guardians.
Case in point:
I was running a copy job and noticed the last name on the file was Bellfontaine. I said "Hey, I've stolen this name before. I can't remember for which story, but I know I stole this for someone's surname."
My coworkers in the copy center chatted with me about names and how one named her fish after another name we saw come through, and the one asked if I was ever going to use the name of a certain county, one of the more amusing ones -- Tippecanoe.
Yes, that is said exactly the way it looks. I asked three natives before I believed anyone. Tip A Canoe. That is how it's said.
My response was thus:
"If I ever write a really bad western thing, I'm so naming the Indian that. It's over. Done. Poor Indian."
So, yes. Best never to be in public with me
Chapter Seventeen
When he finally got out of this room, Noire vowed, he was never going inside again. He would live outside, never to be trapped by four walls again.
Unless Gael dragged him inside. To his bed. Then he’d go.
Noire rolled his eyes at himself and went back to contemplating the incredibly boring, ugly ceiling.
It felt, suddenly, as though he were waiting. Not simply enduring the days, but waiting for something that was going to happen soon.
Of course, most of that had to with the fact that when he’d woken, instead of simply food he’d had a bath, shaving and cleaning supplies, and fresh clothes waiting. His own clothes; an older pair of black breeches, a jacket he seldom wore anymore. The entire set was composed of older clothes, stuff he could not wear in court but kept around to wear when he was running around the lower-class portions of the city for Freddie.
He wished he could think it was a positive sign – that shortly he was going to be free to go, free to run straight to Gael’s arms. Instead, he had the sinking feeling someone was just being polite before they removed him from the picture entirely.
Noire slowly sat up, unable to bear being still for too long, and resumed the pacing that had become his only way to avoid giving in to mindless screaming. He did not want to act as he had that very first day, when he’d shredded the walls, much of the room, with his claws. That would waste energy, and so many days in confinement had already softened him far more than he liked.
He wanted out. If the Queen came to take him, he was determined to avoid letting her get him as she had the first time…not that he had any idea how to avoid the Queen’s compulsions, but he would have to try. Surely it could be done.
Was the Ceremony taking place? He had tried hard to keep track of the days, but he simply could not be certain how long he’d been unconscious that first day. He had only the meals to judge by, and going by those the Ceremony would be taking place either today or tomorrow.
If he could judge anything by the bath and clothes, he would say it was taking place now. As he paced, Gael was becoming a real and true Guardian of Verde. The thought warmed Noire, to know that Gael would be taking his proper place. For all that he grumbled and groused, fussed and made faces, Gael’s life suited him – and he liked it.
Noire refused to believe that something was going wrong. Gael wouldn’t mess up; he hated making mistakes.
He didn’t think the Queen would mess up, either – not if all his ridiculous thoughts and suppositions were even remotely close to the truth. Nor could he see Freddie doing something, which meant that if anything were going to go wrong, it would come from an outside source.
It was driving him mad, being locked up with his own thoughts, guessing and supposing but never knowing. All he wanted was to know what was going on, if everyone was all right – if he would ever see Gael again.
He supposed that last was rather more than a kidnapper would be willing to tell him.
‘A kidnapper.’ Noire snorted at himself. He needed to just admit that it was really and truly the Queen responsible, as much as he still cringed to even think such an awful thing. Only the Queen could ever manage a room as bizarre is this, with meals and baths appearing while he slept or even turned his back for too long. No one else had such powerful magic.
Questions still remained, teasing and taunting him, but Noire refused to indulge them. He was done with pondering problems about which he could do nothing. All he cared about was getting out of here – a goal to which he’d put thorough and extensive effort, time and time again. So far, he could find nothing. No hidden catches or levers, no slits which could indicate a door, not even a hole through which a small Form could fit. Nothing.
If he were not so determined to save his energy, to be ready for anything, he would tear the room apart in a fit of temper.
Noire gave up pacing and once more collapsed upon the bed, this time with his face down in the pillow. He turned it to stare at the wall across the room, eyes distant as he went through each and every thing he intended to do when he saw Gael again.
The thoughts were hideously distracting, but not quite enough to make him forget that it was still highly questionable – despite his determination – whether he would get to see Gael to do the things he wanted.
He was tired of it all. Weary. He wished he could sleep, at least then he could escape to dreams for a while longer, instead of sitting and waiting for what was likely his death.
Surely, though, if the Ceremony succeeded then Gael would know where to find him? How to find him? Noire clung to that, shoving away older worries that were trying to surface.
Gael loved him. When he was a god, Gael would still love him. Noire knew that. Gael had promised, had sworn it over and over again. He was only beginning to doubt now because so much already weighted heavy on his mind.
All he wanted was out of this room! Was that too much to ask? Snarling, Noire shifted and hopped down from the bed, pacing, stalking around the confining quarters, tail lashing with angry restlessness.
It took every bit of self-control he had left not to throw himself at the walls and start slashing at them, attempt to claw through them, even throw himself at them in futile hope of revealing something.
There was no way out, he told himself for what seemed the millionth time. No way that he was able to find. He had no choice but to wait until someone came to take him away. Rescue him, he hoped, but if Ailill were capable of finding him, surely he would have already?
Noire shook his head back and forth, negating his own thoughts. Not if the Queen was behind it. Only the Guardians came close to her in power. Queen Etain had kidnapped him, and that meant she had probably hidden him beyond even the Beasts’ ability to find him. He was well and truly hidden.
His only chance of escape was to get by Etain or whomever she might send in her place. Someone would be coming, he knew. The bath and clothes had proven that. A courtesy, no doubt – no kidnapper cared about how their victim looked, or at least Noire could not imagine why they would care.
The compulsion hit him just as he reached the wall against which the bed was pressed, with so much force that for a moment he could not move. Even the Queen’s compulsion was not as strong as this one.
Tell us where you are. Noire, tell us where you are!
Noire yowled, screamed, roared with all his might, obeying the compulsion with all his strength, unable to resist even if he’d wanted to.
All the Beasts, or nearly all – only so many could create a compulsion so strong, and directed solely at him. They had to be close, compulsions didn’t work over great distances. They were close.
They weren’t hearing him.
Noire! Tell us!
Where are you?
We bid you tell us.
Tell us your location at once.
With every bit of energy he could muster, Noire answered the compulsion, screaming and growling, roaring and snarling until he had to stop to breathe, panting with exertion. Then he attacked the walls, clawing and scraping, desperate to make any sound that would give his location away. They had to hear, they were close, they would find him, they just had to find him.
Then abruptly the compulsions stopped, leaving Noire suddenly alone and bereft. Utterly devastated.
Until he’d heard the compulsions, proof that he was not completely alone in the world, the sheer weight of his loneliness had not hit him. Come back, he begged silently. Mercy of the gods come back!
Nothing. Noire waited and waited, but no more compulsions came. He hadn’t been loud enough. Strong enough. They hadn’t heard him.
Shifting back, Noire knelt on the floor and screamed in despair.
*~*~*~*
“I felt something!” Verenne snapped. “I am not crazy.”
“No one said you were,” Seraphin said wearily. “Only that we did not feel it.”
Ailill shook his head. “I did, but I hardly trust myself anymore. If Verenne felt it, though, then I say we give the two of us the benefit of the doubt.”
Lyall groaned and closed her eyes, pressing fingertips to them. “I cannot believe we are searching the Queen’s wing. I cannot believe we are about to invade her suite. Her bedroom.”
Beside her, Giles snorted. “I am still trying to accept that the Queen is guilty.” He shook his head slowly back and forth. “I think when it is proven all too true, I will still be trying to accept it.”
“So you believe us, at least?” Seraphin asked as Ivan broke open the lock on the doors that led into the Queen’s royal chambers. One entire wing of the palace was devoted to her private use; only the Guardians and precious few footmen – all of them compelled to leave only minutes ago – ever entered.
Verenne made a face as they slid inside. “I’d say it’s interesting she feels the need to keep the door locked.”
Karp snorted softly as he and the others joined the Beasts, returning from where they’d been double checking that no one else was in the vicinity. “Obviously she has good reason.”
Maksim shrugged. “Could also have been one of the footmen. What next, boss?”
Ivan motioned to his men, who immediately fanned out at the silent command. “Guard here. The Beasts are more suited to this search. Drive away anyone who comes; keep it quiet.”
“Yes, boss,” the six men chorused.
“Where should we search?” Ivan asked, turning to Ailill.
Ailill frowned in thought. “I could not place the direction of Noire’s…” He shook his head. “I could feel him screaming, trying to obey the compulsion. It was not strong enough for me to pinpoint the location, or even a general direction.”
“We have been trying for the past three hours,” Matilda said, “and that is the first time we have gotten any sort of indication. We have checked everywhere else the Queen spends her time. If he is anywhere, it is now definitely clear that he must be here.”
“Yes, but where?” Ailill asked, growing, frustrated. “How can he be so close and yet still so clearly far? We heard him, but only just. That was all twelve of us together.”
Lyall looked at them impatiently. “We will not know until we start looking. A clue will turn up. Stop talking and do.” She shifted to her Wolf Form, then took off down the hallway, vanishing into the first door she encountered.
“She is right,” Ailill said. “Spread out and search.”
“I will take the bedroom,” Verenne said, face set in stubborn lines.
“And I,” Seraphin said. “Two sets of eyes would be better than one.”
Ailill nodded. “I will come too, to provide a large Form.”
The two nodded in agreement, and all three and Ivan headed that way.
Queen Etain’s room was as beautiful as the Queen herself, decorated in an array of soft, rainbow pastels, trimmed with slight hints of silver and gold, sunlight pouring in through the windows to set everything alight, the room reminiscent of the wings that graced the Queen’s back.
A tea tray still rested on the small table by one of the windows, the contents of two fragile-looking teacups long since cooled, the remains of a honey pastry still on small china plate.
Ailill paused, curious, as he caught sight of something else on the table. A tiny decanter bottle of pure crystal and an equally fine cordial glass. He picked it up and sniffed, part of him screaming that he was wasting his time, some other instinct telling him this somehow mattered. “Vanya,” he called, and motioned his lover closer, then motioned to the bottle and glass.
Ivan frowned. “Something about it bothers you?”
“Yes, though I could not say why.”
“If it bothers you, that’s enough.” Ivan picked up the empty decanter and lifted the lid, then sniffed carefully at it. The slightest trace of an amber liquid remained inside. He closed it again, then stalked to the door. “Gleb!” he roared, startling Verenne and Seraphin.
Barely a second later Gleb appeared, slight and quick and alert. “Boss?”
Ivan motioned him to follow and shoved the decanter at him when they reached the table. “What do you make of it?”
Gleb removed the stopper of the decanter and took a cautious sniff, then a deeper one. Frowning in thought, he ran his finger along the rim and then licked it. “Fire and ash, boss.”
“What does that mean?” Ailill asked, suddenly anxious.
“It means I’m totally scorched by it. Never seen a thing like it – I definitely can taste a trace of at least three different nasties.” He rattled off a list of names that meant nothing to Ailill, then continued to list off half a dozen more, tacking on, “Could be in here, too hard to tell for sure. It tastes like a good brandy, boss. Maybe one of those fancy tonics the scorching nobles like so much.”
Ivan nodded. “Thank you.”
“Sure, boss,” Gleb set the decanter down and went back to his post outside.
“What did all that mean?” Ailill demanded, thoroughly confused.
“Gleb’s parents were healers,” Ivan said. “He knows quite a bit about such things – especially the sort that can poison. That’s why his first merc band hired him on. He thinks there were at least three, possibly more, different kinds of poisons in here. So skillfully blended that most people would only taste a good brandy or medicinal tonic.”
Ailill stared at the table, then at Ivan. “There’s two cups. One cordial glass. One poisoned the other?” It made him sick to think of it…for if all they were supposing was true…then the Queen had poisoned someone this morning. “Not to kill, surely…”
Ivan shrugged his broad shoulders. “I could not say, lover. Let us hope not.”
“Hey!” Verenne suddenly cried out excitedly. “There may be something here!” She didn’t wait for their reply, but immediately turned and dashed back into the bedroom where she and Seraphin had vanished.
Exchanging a look with his lover, Ailill immediately bolted after her. He entered the room to find a Mongoose minutely examining the wall above the headboard of Etain’s enormous bed.
Just thinking of what would happen to them if they were horribly wrong and anyone ever found out that during the Ceremony the Twelve Great Beasts had pawed through the Queen’s chambers, that a Mongoose had climbed all over her bed…Ailill definitely did not want to think about it.
Suddenly the Mongoose started yapping, nearly falling down the headboard in his excitement to get to them. Then it paused, seemed to shake itself – and Seraphin shifted back.
Putting his boots all over the Queen’s pillows. “There is something here,” he said. “A very faint draft. Get someone who can better tell. Better yet – get someone who can just break down the wall.”
“Break down a wall in the Queen’s bedroom,” Ailill said, shaking his head in wonder. Beside him, Ivan vanished to fetch the required Beasts. In minutes the Queen’s bedchamber was filled with all twelve Great Beasts of Verde.
“Am I the only one who feels like I’m about to be taken out into the yard and thrashed?” The White Ram asked dryly.
“No,” Ailill murmured. “Definitely not. Let’s move this bed and see what we get.”
*~*~*~*
Noire wiped his face, furious at the tears that had gotten the better of him.
Still, the silence around him seemed to scream. He never thought he would enjoy being so strongly compelled, but they had been so very close…and he had not been able to make them hear. He had ruined his own chance of ever getting rescued.
A crashing sound shattered the silence, making him jump, and Noire looked wildly around the room, unable to believe what he was hearing. Another crash, muffled but definitely audible. Noire held his breath, then raced toward the wall from which it seemed to be coming.
Tell us where you are.
“Here!” Noire screamed. “I’m in here! Please!” He banged his fists against the wall, screaming as loud and long as he could for help, banging until his hands ached.
The compulsion faded and he nearly gave in to despair when movement caught the corner of his eye.
A hole in the wall – he had looked, how – and then something long, thin and white.
Noire drew a breath, and before he could release it Earl Seraphin Bellerose stood before him.
“You are here!” Seraphin cried, grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking Noire gently, as if reassuring himself he was not seeing things. “I’ve got him!’ he bellowed. “Herve, now!” He tightened his hold on Noire’s shoulders and hauled him away from the wall they stood beside.
The banging started a split-second later, the wall shuddering with the force of the blows inflicted upon it. Dust blew up from the velvet covering the wall – then the velvet began to tear, the wood behind it to crack and split. Two hard, ground-shaking blows later the section of wall caved in, a mess of stone, mortar, velvet, wood, and dust.
On the opposite side stood Herve le Grand, the White Bear, his pristine coat covered in grime and dust. If knocking down the wall had caused him trouble, however, he gave no sign of it. The massive bear nodded at them, then slowly backed out of the short tunnel that was nearly too small for him.
“Noire!” Ailill appeared as Herve moved way, and Noire broke from Seraphin’s grasp to embrace his friend.
“You found me!” he said, shaking with relief. “Is everything—the Ceremony—” His eyes widened. “The Queen! She’s the one!”
“I knew it,” Verenne said, voice low and hard, as she joined them in the small chamber. “That witch. I have not trusted her since Freddie so abruptly discarded me for her.” She looked around the room. “Why such a place as this?”
Ivan answered, face hard. “It is secluded, secure. Not just from servants and the like, but from Beasts and, I suspect, even Guardians. I do not think under ordinary circumstances that we would have ever found it. Now we must hurry.”
“Yes,” Ailill said. “The Queen poisoned someone, we found the remains of it on her table.”
“Freddie,” Verenne hissed in surprise. “She always has something to drink when she’s nervous, even if it’s just a light cordial with her tea.”
“That is precisely what she had,” Ailill said, a cold chill running down his spine.
Noire shifted, not able to stand around and talk. The Queen had kidnapped him and poisoned Freddie. What else was she going to do? He ignored the cries to stop, the demands to know what he was doing. He raced off, through the halls, down the stairs, straight toward the great hall and the room beyond it.
Above him was a sharp, screeching sound, shadows fluttering across the floor in time with the beating of leathery wings – the White Bat flew above him. Noire rumbled a low growl at her, and Verenne screeched back, and both hurried on, oblivious to who might see them, who was following them.
When they reached the double doors that led to the Ceremony room, Noire shifted back, Verenne beside him. He tested one, relieved to find it was not locked – but of course it wouldn’t be. People would need a way to get inside and retrieve the bodies, should the Ceremony fail.
He wasn’t thinking of that right now. Shoving hard at the left door, Verenne at the right, they threw the doors open and then raced off down the hallway. He glanced briefly at the mural running the length of it, distantly noting the splendor, but his mind was too preoccupied with the doors at the far end, beautifully, intricately carved, and the only thing now that was keeping him from Gael.
Barely in time he shifted back, meeting the door at a run, using his momentum to shove the leftmost open, shifting back to Form as he spilled inside, Verenne sailing in right above him.
A strange sort of calm struck him as he ventured further inside, padding over a small bridge and onto a shining tile floor. Not thirty paces away stood the Queen and Guardians, radiant and breathtaking in their Forms.
Noire could feel himself tremble, to see Gael, to see him so close…and far too close to the treacherous Queen. He still did not understand why she had done all that she had, but he knew he couldn’t let her get away with it. Even if that meant interrupting the Ceremony that had the three figures standing beneath the tree so focused they had not noticed the intruders.
Well, they were about to. Noire tensed and then screamed, an eerie growling cry that he knew had terrified people in the past. He settled to a low, warning growl as the three figures started, their prayers faltering, and Gael whirled around to face him.
Chapter Eighteen
Ailill raced down the hallway, barely noticing the murals except to note that they were as beautiful as those on the domes in the Cathedrals of Pozhar.
Behind him raced Ivan and all the rest, six mercenaries and ten Beasts.
Someway, somehow, this Ceremony was already proving to be drastically different than all the rest.
They spilled inside and Ailill noted Ivan immediately moving into his role of leader, dispersing the sixteen men and women along the perimeter, just behind the artificial stream that circled the length of it.
In the center, the Unicorn moved immediately toward Noire, who was crouched low in the grass, as if ready to spring and attack at any moment.
The Queen kept hold of the Unicorn, however, clearly not allowing him to leave the triad the two of them plus Freddie created. Ailill saw that the Pegasus, by contrast, was not trying to move at all, though her gaze was locked on Verenne, who had shifted back to human to stand just behind Noire.
Let me go. Gael’s voice rang out across the glade, rippling through the minds of all present.
“I cannot,” Etain said calmly. “The Ceremony has begun.”
I do not care, Gael snarled in reply. We can resume the prayers. Noire!
Giving one of the quick screaming-snarls that Ivan had said before sounded eerie, Noire then shifted back. “Gael!” He obviously wanted nothing more than to bolt for his unicorn, but he immediately looked past him toward the Queen. “Gael – she kidnapped me.”
What? Gael asked, voice slow and shocked.
“Enough,” Etain replied. “I will not tolerate such interruptions. Go to sleep, panther—”
No! Gael replied, his horn flashing as he countered the compulsion the Queen was obviously trying to lay upon Noire. No magic. Etain, tell me this is not true.
“You would believe him over me?” Etain asked, expression wounded, voice full of hurt.
Yes. Gael’s reply was immediate and sure. I would. Tell me he is wrong and you are not the one who kidnapped him.
Why…why would she kidnap my messenger? Freddie asked.
Because Noire is my lover. He is my heart and soul.
The Pegasus stilled with surprise, head immediately turning to regard Noire, then swiveling back to look at Gael. Never would I have known…but that makes even less sense. Etain, solve this riddle for us.
Etain stroked her hand over the Pegasus’ nose. “You know, beloved, that I want only what is best for you and our treasured Unicorn.”
Yes…of course, Etain…so tell us why they think these strange things.
Ailill frowned. “Poison,” he muttered. “Freddie has been poisoned. Noire, Verenne…” He turned to Ivan. “We should not simply be standing here.”
Ivan shook his head. “I do not like it either, but…let us see what they can do. Don’t you feel it?”
“Maybe,” Ailill muttered, and settled down to his discontent. His eyes fell once more upon the group in the center. The Queen, the Guardians, one Beast, and…merciful gods…but Noire wasn’t a stranger. Everyone knew who he was. Well, enough knew him that if they’d found him dead in this chamber, he would be identifiable. “Vanya.”
“I noticed,” Ivan said quietly. “We will not let them kill each other, but I think this is something that must be settled amongst them…it is obvious the Queen has hidden much.”
Ailill nodded. “Yes.”
“I will answer all your questions,” Etain said in the face of the accusations, “but not until the Ceremony is complete. Right now that is all that matters. Nothing else. Come, my Guardians, my beloveds, you know it’s true.”
Yes, Freddie said.
“Freddie!” Verenne suddenly shouted, calling out to her ex-lover. “You’ve been poisoned. A cordial. Did you drink a cordial this morning?”
What? Freddie asked. Poisoned? Don’t be ridiculous. I am tired of your absurd accusations, White Bat. Is that why you came here? Did you bring Noire into your games? To get back at me simply because you are still livid that I broke off our liaison?
Poisoned? Gael echoed. I cannot believe… He stepped forward, ignoring the delicate hand that clung tightly to his golden mane, and dipped his head to lay his horn against Freddie.
Freddie recoiled. How dare you, brother! You try to purify me, taking the side of liars, implying that you think our sister capable of these terrible things? She loves us. We love her. I will not allow you to sully our union by purifying what does not need cleansed because you allow these lies to cloud your thinking. How can you be so cruel to us?
If I am wrong, dear sister, then all that results is my looking like a stupid, gullible fool. There is no harm there except to me, and I accept full blame if I am mistaken. So, come, let me cleanse you whether you need it or not.
Get away! Freddie bellowed, jerking free of Etain’s hold to turn and slam her back hooves hard into Gael, the force of it sending the Unicorn reeling back, falling to the ground as he lost his balance.
“Gael!” Noire bellowed, bolting forward, oblivious to the warnings hurtled at him by Etain. He dropped to his knees beside the Unicorn. “Gael, are you all right?”
With a pained whinny that shifted into a groan, Gael shifted back. “I will manage,” he said, face contorted in pain as he looked up at his sister. “I cannot believe you did that, Freddie. I intended you no harm.”
You treat me like you do not trust me.
Gael stormed to his feet. “My lover—”
About whom you never told me. You kept it secret that my messenger was your lover. Why, Gael? Beloved brother? Why do you not trust me?
“Because I knew if I told anyone – anyone – that Noire would die!” Gael bellowed, balling his hands into fists. “Do you think I enjoyed it? Keeping to myself that Noire is my reason for living? Do you think I liked not being able to confide in my sisters, whom I should be able to trust in all things?” He threw his hands out. “I hated it! Every second of it! Then he was kidnapped, and I was told that if I did not see this Ceremony properly completed that he would die! He tells me Etain kidnapped him and you claim that I have no reason not to trust my sisters?”
“Please,” Etain pleaded, looking anxiously between them. “Now is not the time for this. We must first finish the Ceremony, my beloved sister and brother.”
“No!” Gael snarled at her. “Not until I know what is going on.”
You have lost your mind, Freddie replied, her wings moving restlessly on her back. You are not the Gael I know and love.
“Nor are you the Freddie who has always stood by my side! You have been acting strangely all day.”
“For months,” Verenne suddenly cut in, striding forward to stand with Gael and Noire. “Freddie, you have not been yourself since you came home and told me we were finished.”
You cannot say those words clearly, Freddie protested. You have been volatile since I ended the affair. If anyone is not right, it is you.
Tears sprang up in Verenne’s eyes, making them bright, but she lifted her chin and fought back. “Say what you want. I think it is the poison speaking. If you are so certain you are not poisoned, what is the harm in letting the Unicorn touch you?
I will not be so callously treated by my own brother. Etain trusts me, why can’t he?
“Etain is the one who poisoned you,” Verenne said. “We found the decanter that held the cordial you drank.”
You know I always drink such things when I have something difficult to do. That is hardly a reason to think she has poisoned me.
“It was poisoned!” Gleb interjected, voice as sharp and quick as the man, cutting across the field. “I tasted at least three, possibly as many as nine. Not meant to kill, any one of them could have done that.”
“Stay out of this, interfering child of the soft Firebird!” Etain bellowed, power rippling out, leaves of the oak stirring as she sent out a pulse of energy to drive them back.
Luka stepped forward, arms splayed wide, and his eyes flickered like a candle flaring to life – and flames sprang up, almost as if from the stream, absorbing the Queen’s magic before snuffing out, leaving only steam to slowly fade away.
Etain’s eyes widened. “Impossible. No child of the Firebird knows such magic anymore.”
Ivan and his men threw their heads back and laughed, but an edge to the jovial sound kept anyone else from smiling. Ivan looked grimly at her. “We were blessed with magic by Zhar Ptitka himself. We remain where we are to let you work out your own fight,” he shot a warning look at Gleb. “Do not attack us again.”
Frowning, furious, Etain ignored them and shifted her attention elsewhere. “Please, let us not bicker, my darling siblings. I cannot believe you would engage in such childish arguments when we are so close to finishing the Ceremony. That is what matters right now. The people matter. Our children matter. Not these petty squabbles. Come, please.”
You are right, Etain. Of course. Gael, please. We love each other, and we love our children more. We can set aside our own differences, surely, to finish the Ceremony.
“No,” Gael said vehemently. “I will not finish the Ceremony when there are lies, betrayal, and distrust between us. If you love me, sisters, then grant me this one boon and forestay the Ceremony until all is satisfactorily explained.”
Now you stand there demanding proof of our love for you? In the form of putting aside that which affects the people of Verde? Gael…you are the one who should not be trusted.
Ailill barely kept himself still, aching to do something to help. He could not stand to watch Freddie speak so cruelly…all around him he could feel the agony of his fellow Beasts of the West, mingling with the pain of the Beasts of the East as they listened to Gael try and fail to get through to Freddie.
What he didn’t miss, however, was the way Gael’s hand was tangled tightly with Noire’s. The way Noire stood close to Gael, unflinching despite Freddie’s fury and Etain’s growing impatience. To be the focus of either woman’s anger was a fearsome thing, but to be the focus of both – Ailill did not envy anyone standing in that inner circle. Still, Gael and Noire stood unmistakably together, and though they’d barely spoken, barely looked at each other, too busy with all that went on around them, that they shared something was impossible to miss. Ailill marveled that they’d both managed to keep it a secret for so long. It seemed so blatantly obvious, now…
“I am sorry,” Gael said, quiet but fervent. “That was not my intention. I merely ask a favor, not proof. Not once have I ever meant to betray the trust of my sisters. The trust of anyone. I would never have done the things I did, if I did not fear for the life of the man I love. Surely you would have done the same for the woman you love?”
Of course I would do anything for Etain. Am I not standing against you out of love for you both?
Gael shook his head. “I don’t mean Etain. Of course we love her.” He looked at Etain, whose impatience was clear, mingling with anxiety and anger. “We will always love you, each other, but when I said the woman you love, Freddie – I meant Verenne.”
Verenne? Freddie turned her head to look at the woman who had fallen silent, standing quietly as the argument between siblings raged. Verenne and I…our relationship is over. Etain is the only woman I love.
“Just as you are the only woman I love,” Etain murmured, stepping close and stroking Freddie’s neck, murmuring softly, nuzzling her cheek against Freddie’s soft nose.
A tear traced down Verenne’s cheek – then she turned angry. “I refuse to believe it, you conniving little—!” With a scream of rage she threw herself at Etain, knocking the Queen to the ground and hitting her hard, blood spilling as Etain’s lips split – before the Queen resumed control and with a surge of magic shoved Verenne off her to land hard, head cracking against the tile.
Verenne lay still.
Verenne…Verenne…
“See?” Etain said, picking herself up, smoothing out the delicate skirt of her dress, which now bore grass stains. Her hair too was a mess, bits of grass stuck to it, diadem knocked off in the fall. “Petty, violent woman.”
Gael stared at Etain, the sadness in his face so great Ailill nearly looked away. Why? Why couldn’t his feet move? Why wouldn’t they obey him? It was just like Ivan said – they could not, should not cross.
“Etain, now more than ever I believe you are the betrayer here. How could you be so cruel to a child of Verde when she is obviously suffering from pain and grief? Perhaps – and I truly do wonder – Freddie no longer loves her, but any fool can see that Verenne loves Freddie. Yet you call her a petty, violent woman.” Turning on his heel, slowly letting go of his hold on Noire’s hand, Gael knelt before Verenne and turned her over. The blood that had been hidden by her hair was now apparent, thick and dark on the corner of her head.
Verenne. My Beast! Freddie shook her head fretfully back and forth, wings flapping and flexing in agitation, loose feathers falling slowly to the ground. She moved toward Gael and the fallen Verenne – only to be stopped short by Etain.
Etain licked blood from her lips, one hand fisted in Freddie’s mane, the other on her neck, keeping the Pegasus in place. “Don’t you see?” she said, looking from Freddie to Gael, from Noire to Verenne. “These two are the poison!” She lifted one hand to point at Noire, then Verenne. “Did it ever occur to you, dear siblings, that these two are the reason the Ceremony always goes awry? Tempting you away from what truly matters? From the real, loving bond that you already have? They distract you, draw you away! They are pretty, attractive, I know, but they are poison!” Tears gathered in her eyes. “They steal you away from the only bond you need, the one you already have.”
They…Freddie tossed her head at the words, wings flaring out, catching the light, flashing like moonlight. What do you mean ‘they’ beloved sister. I love you, no other. My heart and soul are you and Gael, as has always been, as will ever be.
“Yes,” Etain whispered. “Exactly. Now if only Gael would wake to reason.”
Gael ignored them save for a brief glare, more concerned with whispering soft words over Verenne, stopping the bleeding and healing what he could of the wound.
Ailill tensed as he watched Noire step forward, putting himself between Gael and Etain.
“You said you hated me,” Noire said. “I remember that. Most of what you said doesn’t make sense to me, but I remember you said you hated me.”
Gael slowly looked up, brown eyes moving to Noire, then to Etain beyond him. “What precisely did she say?”
Noire’s hands balled into fists as he stared down the Queen, who looked at him in growing fury. Ailill felt the surge of power as whatever the Queen attempted was countered by Gael. Freddie stood restlessly by, obviously anxious but unable to act.
She was clearly poisoned. All it would take was the touch of Gael’s horn – but she had already harmed him. Getting that close to her would not be easy, especially with Etain also now willing to resort to violence.
Ailill could all too clearly see, now, how the Ceremony always ended in tragedy.
Had the Faerie Queen been this duplicitous the entire time? Was she really so jealous and…cruel? He shook his head, unable to believe it. Surely, surely, there was some other explanation.
Noire’s voice was remarkably calm as he finally answered Gael’s questions. “She said ‘In a thousand years, not once has that spirit changed. Through mu—”
A scream of rage cut him off, as the Queen howled in fury, her magic blazing wildly – the magic, painted sun overhead flaring so brightly the light was blinding, the leaves of the oak tree shaking as though beset by a storm.
Then Noire cried out, and only Ivan’s hand on his arm kept Ailill from bolting across the bridge as Noire dropped like a weighted sack to the ground, the fury of the Queen drowned out only be Gael’s scream of pain and rage.
Just as abruptly as it had flared, the surge of magic died, leaving only a stark, heavy silence.
Gael clutched Noire close, and Ailill could not hear the words he muttered. Tenderly Gael set Noire down – then threw himself forward, shifting as he did, once more the bright and shining Unicorn. His horn glowed, even more painfully bright than that which had only moments ago shone down from above.
He surged forward, scream both vocal and silent, so loud in the minds of those present that only the beasts managed to stand against the force of it, Ivan and his men dropping to their knees at the force of the pain caused by the echoing thoughts.
Oblivious to all of it, Gael threw himself at Etain, horn lowered and glinting. I will never forgive you, Etain. Never.
Etain stood still, unfazed – and at the last moment Freddie threw herself between them, screaming in pain as Gael’s horn drove into her side.
No! Freddie! No!
Gael pulled back, horn pulling free, dripping blood. His nostrils flared, head tossing, as agony over his mistake ripped through him. No, Freddie…why, you stupid horse! He immediately moved forward again, this time laying his horn gently across her neck. It shimmered, rather than glowed, and the shimmer spread over Freddie, glittering brightly for a single moment before vanishing.
Freddie…Gael stepped away, head drooping, golden mane just touching the grass. He shifted back to human, and caught Freddie as she did the same, hugging his sister close. “You were poisoned.”
Freddie held him tight, as though clinging for dear life, seemingly oblivious to the blood that stained the side and front of her dress. Slowly she relaxed her hold, lifting her head to meet his gaze, the two making some silent exchange – then she turned around in a burst of movement and punched Etain hard, sending the Queen banging into the oak tree with a pained, startled cry.
“You—you—” Freddie screamed in rage and hefted Etain to her feet, shaking her hard before throwing her to the ground again. “I cannot believe you, Etain. I had no idea you were so venomous and cruel.”
Slowly, mustering all the dignity she could, Etain picked herself up and smoothed out her skirts and hair. “As I said before, brother, sister, I do what is best for you. Always, always, you are the ones I have loved best. You loved me…until these poisonous creatures came along and tried to steal you away. From me, from each other. After you found them, no one came to see me. I had to summon you to see a smile, to feel a kiss.” She smiled bitterly at them. “Suddenly too good, too preoccupied, to remember me.”
“A poor excuse,” Freddie said contemptuously. “If that were true, all you had to do was tell us you felt that way. You know that. We have always tried to be honest with each other.”
“Yet the very moment you fell prey to these poisons, you started hedging, keeping secrets, keeping your distance…” Etain glared. “It is all their fault. I tried to save you, to make you realize, to give you back everything you truly need here today. As usual, however, these vile creatures have ruined everything.”
Gael shook his head. “Speak of Verenne and Noire in such a way again, Etain, and I truly will kill you. We hurt you, fine, but that is no excuse for the terrible things you’ve done.”
“They are poison!” Etain raged, her power flaring again as her temper snapped. “When will you see that! I hate them! I hate them!” She screamed her fury, the chamber spinning as wildly out of control as it had before, and she made to attack the closest of the unconscious figures – Noire.
Gael sprang forward, Freddie beside him, and they threw themselves at the enraged Queen, knocking her back, down, sending all three of them crashing into the great oak tree.
Everything died.
Stilled.
Even the sunlight overhead seemed to dim.
Freddie and Gael looked at each other, at Etain lying still, eyes closed, between them, their hands where they lay upon the oak, Etain’s head just touching it.
The leaves of the tree began to rustle, gently at first, then with more force. At the base of the oak, the three figures touching it began to shimmer, flaring brightly before fading, only to flare more brightly than before in a chaos of gold and silver light.
Abruptly everything stilled once more, the entire room going dark before it just as suddenly filled with sunlight.
At the base of the oak were three familiar figures. Freddie stood to the right, her dress cleansed of blood, showing no signs of having suffered a single wound, of having attacked and fought with her sister. Beside her stood Gael, as calm and reserved as he usually was.
There was one difference, and all the Beasts stirred to see the slight change – Freddie’s eyes were now the brilliant blue of a summer sky. Gael’s were no longer brown, but the rich, vibrant green of new spring.
Between them, sitting on the ground, pooled in the skirts of her rainbow gown, Etain sobbed into her hands. Upon her back her wings were grander and more colorful than ever, one of the most beautiful things Ailill had ever seen.
The Faerie Queen and Guardians.
no subject
no subject
Maturity is overrated. :nodsnods: And you should so write a western just so you can call the indian tipofcanoe. :nodsnods:
no subject
It's the spot of a famous battle. (Battle of Tippecanoe on Wiki) I remember it mostly because Tecumseh and his brother predicted a solar eclipse when Harrison tried to discredit them by insisting that they prove that they have divine connections. ;3
no subject
Nope, never heard it. I guess I l0z0r. I figured it was something like that, I was just trying to be silly. Ah, well.
no subject
no subject
(Anonymous) 2007-04-27 12:03 am (UTC)(link)no subject
no subject
no subject
*huggles Noire and Verenne*
no subject
....*insert mmixed feelings here*
uh GUH.
...moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooore.
no subject
I'm so glad we have one more after this. And the supersecretshadow one at that!! Whatever will we do when the Lost Gods are all done? Eh, no sense borrowing trouble.
no subject
still digginhg around in archives...
Re: still digginhg around in archives...
Re: still digginhg around in archives...
no subject
^^
no subject
(Anonymous) 2007-04-27 03:57 am (UTC)(link)so...like....on an unrelated note, I wanted to de-lurk to complement your writing [since I enjoy it, I figure I probably should]. You may not have been published, but you write awesome stories, and they're good enough that you've managed to attract a huge audience [which comments and admires pretty actively] all on your own, without needing a publishing company to publicise you. If you think about it, that's a pretty enormous achievement. Seriously. You're writing is great, thanks for sharing!
~KD
no subject
Unless, after the chnage Gael and Freddie, being gods now, aren't interested in their loves any longer and Etain sobs because of all the wrong she's done to those she loves through all the previous times.
You wouldn't do that would you???
no subject
As much as I hate to say it, because I hate feeding even fictional characters' dependency issues, SHE NEEDS (A) WO/MAN/MEN. Someone(s) she can hug and love and name "George".
no subject
And what a weird way to become gods.
Sweet. Chance to use my new icon.
Also, AHAHAHAHAHAHAH I WAS RIGHT ABOUT FREDDIE.
Damn! You write swell!
^____^
no subject
no subject
All in all - I'm desperately eager to see the end of this. Much love!