Faerie Path #6: The Charmed Return (21 page)

The pub was called The World’s End.

Chapter XXXII

Lear rose in the saddle of the dead Faerie horse and threw a ball of fire in through the open doors of the pub. A moment later the whole of the front erupted in a rolling pall of oily, fiery black smoke.

The World’s End.

Laughing still, Lear loosed another ball of flame, this time into the tall white stone face of the bank on the far side of the junction. But the fire sputtered and failed, breaking up in mid-flight and cascading down in a rain of dying sparks.

Lear reeled in the saddle as though some invisible force had struck him.

Edric!

Again Tania urged her horse forward, eating up the yards between them, her sword ready in her fist.

Lear crashed down in the saddle, all laughter quenched as he rolled groaning from side-to-side. The flames that surrounded them began to falter, as though their fires were fueled by Lear—as though they would fail if he failed.

Don’t hesitate! Strike hard and swift!
Edric’s voice in her head.

Lear’s head was turning as though he was trying to seek out the source of his power loss. He gave a shout, his arm stretched out, his fingers pointing.

Edric was there—crouching in a doorway, blue fire flickering at his fingertips.

“Not dead, boy?” Lear cried. “Then die now, and be rid of you!”

Lear roared with anger, red flames licking along his outstretched arm.

Tania was almost upon him.

At last, he became aware of her. He spun around, snarling, his eyes blazing with anger.

She lifted her sword, but as she brought her arm down, the vicious features changed and she saw Oberon’s face under her blade.

“Wouldst you strike me down, daughter?”

With a choking cry Tania managed to deflect her blow.

A fist of fire burst from Lear’s fingers, punching into her chest, driving her backward out of the saddle as her horse galloped on. She went crashing down onto the roadway with bone-breaking force, knowing she had failed—knowing Oberon’s face had been no more than a trick to make her hesitate. . . .

The sword rang on the road, jarred from her fingers.

She heard Edric’s voice calling. “Tania!”

She saw crimson fire arc through the air. She saw Edric smashed to the ground, his blue fire smothered. The fires leaped up again all around them. She heard Lear roaring with laughter.

He turned his horse and walked it slowly toward where she lay, her whole body hurting, her soul in torment. He dismounted and stood over her.

I’ve failed.

“You would kill your uncle, child?” he asked. “’Tis most naughty of you! I must find a punishment to fit so heinous a crime!” He held out his hand, and Tania saw a small amber ball on his palm. “I shall not end you, Tania. No, indeed. You will be with me for all eternity.” He smiled. “You will outlive the stars, Tania—trapped forever in amber.”

The amber ball lifted from his palm and floated down toward her.

But before it reached her, she heard a strange, growing, rushing sound. A darkness like a huge black arrowhead moved into the corner of her eye. She heard a shrill chattering noise.

A flock of starlings hurtled between her and Lear, smashing the amber ball aside, so that it cracked and burst on the tarmac. Lear bridled back from the rush of birds, his face livid. But more birds came: pigeons mobbing him, pecking him and beating at him with their wings.

Tania scrambled away, struggling to master the agony in her body, fighting to get to her feet.

Lear’s arms burst through the birds, sending many of them spinning through the air or crumpling to the ground.

He turned his head, glaring past Tania to where Cordelia stood calling in a strange, high-pitched voice.

“Birds of the air you’d set upon me, child?” Lear raged. “Fool! All shall burn!”

Tania tottered to her feet, seeking her fallen sword. But the ground all around her was alive and moving. Rats were swarming from all corners, rats in the thousands, running forward like a flood of black oil, making for Lear.

He shouted in anger as the multitude of rats swarmed over his feet and clawed their way up his legs.

And even as he stumbled and fell back under the assault, Rathina and Titus and Jade came running forward with swords raised.

“Be gone!” howled Lear, standing firm, his body wreathed in red fire. The rats were blasted away from him, many screaming and in flames. The birds sped up into the sky, crying out and screeching as they fled the rising fires.

Rathina launched herself on him, sword whirling. A thrust of his hand sent a wall of fire at her, taking her off her feet and throwing her back.

“Rathina!” Titus shouted as she struck hard against the side of a car and slid to the ground. He snarled, eyes blazing as he threw himself at Lear. “You shall die for that!”

Jade was with him, moving with a silken grace as she bounded forward, her sword poised at shoulder height, its point at Lear’s throat.

She lunged at him, but his arm came up with deadly speed, striking the sword from her hand. She swiveled on one leg, her foot raised for a kick. He snatched at her ankle, pulling her off balance, tossing her to the ground.

A scream was torn from Tania’s throat. “Jade!”

Titus struck next, but his blade kindled to flame and spun away from him as Lear’s fires poured down over him and drove him to his knees.

An eerie trilling sound was coming from Cordelia’s lips. The sky had begun to brighten at the end of the eclipse, but it darkened again now as fast-moving clouds of small flying creatures came pouring down over the rooftops. Tania felt herself battered and beaten as the insects careened past her. She saw bees and wasps and flies in the throng, beetles and butterflies and moths and dragonflies—all moving with a single purpose, all congregating on Lear.

The air was rank with the stench of scorched feathers and burning fur, but for the moment Lear’s fires were being swamped by the deluge of insects that Cordelia had called down upon him.

Tania was aware of other fights still being waged around them as the Red Knights battled savagely with the men of Weir. But it was not the horsemen of Gralach Hern who wielded the true power here. It was Lear who had to be beaten.

She could hear distant police sirens. More people coming to be killed by Lear—more fuel for his hellish fires.

Tania heard a sharp bark behind her. She turned. A fox stood staring at her. Lying by its feet was her lost sword.

“Thank you,” she said, gasping and grabbing the sword up.

The fox stared into her eyes for a moment, then loped off to join the attack on Lear. More foxes were streaking along the roads—and there were cats with them, too, and running dogs, their jaws gaping and tongues lolling. It was as though every animal within a mile of this place had heeded Cordelia’s desperate call.

“Now, Tania! Do it now!”
Edric’s voice in her head. Weak but alive!

“Yes!”

She ran forward into the swarming insects.

Lear was at the heart of the storm of fizzing and droning wings, his arms flailing, his fingers clawing insects out of his eyes.

He turned, seeing Tania—seeing her sword slicing toward him.

His face morphed once more and became the gentle, kindly face of Clive Palmer.

“Please, sweetheart—don’t do it!”

“No!” Tania shouted. “Enough of your tricks!
Enough!
”

Using all her strength and all her willpower, she plunged the sword into his chest.

He fell without a sound, but all around her she heard wailing and screaming as the knights of Gralach Hern burst into living flames and were consumed and turned to smoke and ash.

The armies of insects drew off and the clamor of the other animals ceased. Tania stared around herself in a daze. Lear lay dead at her feet, his face old and gray and twisted with evil, blood oozing from his chest, staining his dark clothes. His fires shrank. A breeze blew the smoke away over the rooftops.

Above her the sun was already more than half free of the moon’s dark embrace.

The Pure Eclipse was done, and a great and powerful evil had been destroyed.

Titus helped Rathina to her feet. Cordelia was knee-deep in dogs and cats and foxes and rats, her shoulders and arms covered in birds, insects in her hair and more of them perching on her fingers with wings buzzing.

Jade was sitting up, her eyes glassy but her face split by a wide grin as she looked up at Tania.

“You beat him!” she said. “But that was awful! Fighting for real is nothing like tai chi class!”

“I don’t imagine it is.” Tania helped her to her feet.

From across the junction, Edric came, limping and battered, but with a bright light in his wide brown eyes.

Tania dropped her sword and ran into his arms.

“You did it!” He gasped as they embraced.

“We did it!” she said, clinging tight. “We all did it!”

* * *

Tania and Edric stood hand-in-hand by the Quellstone Spire. All the riders of Weir were with them on the canal towpath, the wounded tended by their comrades, the dead lying over the saddles of their horses. Cordelia was there also, and Titus and Rathina.

Jade stood in front of Tania. “Will you be safe?” she asked.

“I think so,” said Tania. She smiled tiredly. “I’m sure we will. I’m going to use the Spire to give me enough power to get us all back to Faerie. As to what happens after that . . . I really don’t know.”

Jade looked at Edric. “You look after her, okay?” she said. “Or you’ll have me to answer to.”

“We’ll look after each other,” said Edric.

The sound of sirens was growing louder.

“You’d better get out of here before the cops arrive,” Jade said. She smiled at Tania. “I’ll go straight to your place, right? I’ll let your folks know what’s happened, and that you’re okay.”

“And tell them I’ll find a way to get back to them,” Tania added. “I don’t know how right now, but I will find a way!”

Rathina rested her hand on Jade’s shoulder. “You are most welcome to come with us and dwell in Faerie, Mistress Jade,” she said solemnly. “Songs shall be sung of your warrior’s heart.”

Jade smiled. “Trust me, I’m tempted. It’d save having to explain to my folks where I’ve been for the past week! But I can’t come—sorry. There’s no way I can live without my iPod and my computer and my mobile phone.” She stepped back. “But you guys are welcome to visit anytime you like. Just try not to land in my mum’s pond next time, all right?”

“We shall come if fate allows,” said Cordelia. She turned to Tania. “Let’s be gone, sister—I’d know how things fare in our homeland now that Lear is dead.”

“Yes.” Tania looked fondly at Jade. “I’ll be seeing you, okay?”

“You bet!”

A burst of emotion sent Tania surging forward, and the two friends hugged tightly. After a few precious moments Jade backed off and made for the stone steps up to the bridge.

Tania swallowed hard, turning to Edric. “I wish people hadn’t died. . . .” she said.

“Every death is a fearsome loss,” said Rathina. “But without you the toll could have been very much higher.”

“Sister?” said Cordelia. “Quickly now!”

Tania pressed her palm against the Quellstone Spire. She felt the power flowing. She concentrated.

The world rippled around her, and the ways between the worlds opened.

Epilogue

Evening was falling over Faerie. The evening of the day of the Pure Eclipse. The sky in the west was bathed in a red so deep that it seemed the heavens were drenched in newly spilled blood. The sun was gone, and in the east the first stars were twinkling.

A gathering of Faerie folk stood on a grassy ridge above Fortrenn Quay. A winding stairway of split logs led down to the quay itself, where the
Cloud Scudder
lay at anchor, shining in the growing night like something that might have been fashioned by a jeweler.

As the sun yielded the sky to the night, so lights began to spring up all along the stairway—and more glowed bright in the quay and aboard the ship. All along the almost immeasurable length of the Royal Palace, torches ignited in windows and on battlements and upon the roofs of high towers and spires, like a linked chain of jewels winding away beyond sight.

Tania and others of the Royal Household were standing in a ring on the grass, facing inward, their heads bowed. They had formed the circle as the sun had touched the horizon, and they had neither moved nor spoken till the sun was gone.

They were mourning the dead. The dead not only of Faerie; they grieved for everyone who had fallen victim to Prince Lear’s insane ambitions. They grieved most especially for the knights of Weir who had lost their lives in the final battle and for the innocent Mortals who had died in a struggle they would never comprehend.

Tania’s hand was in Edric’s hand. He held hands with Cordelia, and she with Hopie. Brython was there also, and Sancha and Earl Valentyne and Eden. The King and Queen. The earl marshall and Lady Lucina with their two sons. Titus held hands with Rathina, and Rathina with Tania, thus closing the circle.

At last the King raised his head. “In silence we have remembered them,” he said. “And in the silent moments of our lives may we ever remember those who are gone, both friend and stranger alike.” His eyes flashed in the dying day. “May we never forget the name of Lear Aurealis, my brother, whose broken spirit caused such destruction and disharmony. And by remembering, make it so that such a thing may never happen again.” He released Earl Valentyne’s hand. “And now we must enact the final part of this tragedy and pluck for ourselves some measure of joy for the times that are to come.” He stepped out of the circle of people, taking the Queen by the arm. “Let us to the
Cloud Scudder
,” he said. “Let us to Tirnanog!”

The ring broke up, and the Faerie folk wended their slow and solemn way down to the waiting galleon. Tania held on tightly to Edric’s hand, buoyed by his presence at her side. She couldn’t help notice that Titus walked with Rathina and that they seemed to be speaking softly together.

As they all walked up the gangplank, Tania heard Admiral Belial calling orders to his crew. Ropes snaked loose. Mariners hung in the rigging. White sails were unrolled to shine like moonlight under the starry sky. And at the stern the standards of Faerie were unfurled, the yellow sun of the King and the pure white moon of the Queen flying in the growing wind.

When all were aboard, the gangplank was drawn up and the shining galleon slipped smoothly away from the quay and glided out into the estuary of the River Tamesis.

Tania stood at the prow, hand-in-hand with Edric, gazing out over the wide waters.

“I wish . . .” Her voice faded.

Edric smiled feelingly at her. “You wish someone else could have killed Lear?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “I keep seeing it in my mind—every time I close my eyes. I see Lear with my father’s face—and the sword—and everything. It’s a horrible thing to have in my head.”

“The pain of it will fade in time,” Edric said.

“I hope so. . . .”

They stood together in silence for a while, the wind whipping Tania’s hair, the fine sea spray tingling on her skin.

Two voices began to chant in a melodic chorus. Tania and Edric turned. Oberon and Eden were standing in the center of the deck, side-by-side, their faces lifted, their blue eyes shining.

A shiver of wonder and delight ran down Tania’s back at the sound of her father and her sister calling in unison. They were singing for the spirits to come together and raise the great white galleon from the waves.

As they chanted, Oberon and Eden lifted their arms, hands palm-upward, fingers spread. No one upon the decks of the galleon moved. All eyes were on the two singers.

“Do you hear that?” Tania whispered.

Edric leaned close. “What?”

“A flute—I swear I can hear a flute.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

Tania tilted her head, trying to get a fix on the faint melody. “No! It’s gone.” She let out a sad breath. “Maybe I imagined it.”

The deck began to tilt under her, and she and Edric caught hold of the bow rail to save themselves from slipping.

And as Oberon and Eden sang, the
Cloud Scudder
rose from the sea, and the horizon fell away as they sailed up into the star-filled night.

Night-dark forests and rolling hills and glimmering rivers and sleepy hamlets fled away below the
Cloud Scudder
as she sailed the skies of Faerie, heading arrow-swift into the far west. Tania stood at the rail, alone now, lost in thoughts.

A banquet was being arranged, and Edric had been called away to help.

The moon was so huge and close that she felt she could almost have reached out and touched its shining face.

She heard soft footsteps and turned her head to see Titania step up to the rail at her side. “All is in readiness for the meal,” she said. “Will you come now?”

“Yes, of course.” Tania looked into her mother’s eyes. “Why do I feel sorrier for the people of the Mortal World who died?” she asked. “So many of us died here, but I feel worse about the people in London. Why is that?”

“Perhaps because they were the more innocent. Lear was of our world, not theirs.” She sighed softly. “They surely have evils enough of their own without the escapes of Faerie bringing fresh destruction to them.”

“How are they going to cope with what happened?”

“Mortals are very resilient, Tania—you know that,” said Titania, resting her arm across Tania’s shoulders. “They will say it was an act of terrorism or perhaps a gas main blowing up—and they will mourn and grieve. And then they will remake the broken buildings and mend the cracked roadways, and they will perhaps erect a monument to those who died. And the families will remember their loved ones for always, and others will remember what happened on occasion, and the Mortal World will turn, and old folk will die, and babes will be born, and life will continue.” She smiled. “Mortals are a resilient breed, Tania.”

“Jade will tell my folks what happened,” Tania said. “And I
will
find a way to get through to them, even if Aldritch never allows the barriers to be lifted.” She frowned. “But there’s something I forgot—something I wish I’d asked Jade to do.”

“What is that?”

“Connor,” said Tania. “I should have asked her to go find Connor and make sure he’s okay. He was pretty freaked the last time I saw him. I’d hate to think that his whole life was wrecked because of what happened. I mean, it’s not like it was his fault.”

Titania smiled gently. “Come with me. I think perhaps I can help ease your mind.”

Puzzled, Tania followed her mother belowdecks. They came to a cabin fitted out with white furnishings. To one side was a small table, and in the middle of the table stood a bowl of clear crystal, brimming with water.

Tania dipped her fingers into the water. Ripples spread.

“When the water becomes still, think of Connor and see what is revealed,” said Titania.

Tania leaned over the bowl, almost holding her breath as she stared into the wrinkled water. Gradually the ripples died away. Tania could not have said that there was a moment when she was looking into clear water and another moment when she was seeing something else.

But in the mirror of Titania’s will Tania found herself gazing into a modern hospital ward, as though seeing the scene through a roving camera lens. People in green scrubs were running to and fro. Other people lay on beds divided by curtains. There was a sense of controlled chaos.

“It’s an ER,” Tania murmured.

Swing doors burst inward. A man lay on a gurney that came thrusting between the doors, pushed at speed by running paramedics. An urgent voice called, “Automobile accident. Victim has multiple fractures and suspected pneumothorax. BP 134 over 78. Pulse 108.”

“Bring him over here,” said a voice that Tania recognized.

A calm, steady voice.

“Nurse—we need to intubate this man, stat!” called Connor as the man was wheeled into a bay. He leaned over the victim. “We’re going to get you stabilized,” he said, his voice firm and reassuring. “Do you have any medical conditions we ought to know about . . . ?”

The vision vanished as though a white curtain had been drawn between Tania and the world within the bowl. She stepped back, blinking.

“Was that real?” she asked, gazing at her mother, feeling a little giddy.

“It was real,” Titania answered.

Tania grinned. “He’s going to be all right.”

“I think you need not fear for Connor Estabrook,” said the Queen. “His life is set fair. He will do great and good things, and the lost two weeks will not weigh overmuch upon him.”

“I knew he wasn’t really a bad person,” Tania said. “The stuff he had to try and deal with here—it would have sent anyone a bit screwy.” She let out a long, relieved breath. “I’m glad for him—I felt so guilty.”

“Then let guilt be gone!” said Titania. “Banish all care, Tania. Come—the King awaits. We shall have one final meal together. . . .”

Tania hesitated. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Why final . . . ?”

The Queen smiled. “I meant a final meal ere we reach Tirnanog. Nothing more, child. Come—all your sisters are there at table; let us not keep them waiting!”

All Tania’s sisters and all the other members of the Royal Family were gathered at the long oval table. There was much laughter between the dinner guests, and talk of old times past—of childhood days and of adventures and festivities and birthday surprises, of games of wing-tag along the corridors of the Royal Palace, of swimming in the Tamesis by moonlight. Of voyages to the outlying islands, and of trysts with the strange and secretive merfolk. Of feasts and balls and of the skies bright and noisy with firiencraft—and there was nothing that Tania did not remember now! Nothing that did not come alive in her mind as it was recalled.

But after a while a lieutenant of Admiral Belial’s crew came to the door of the cabin.

“We are here, sire,” he said.

Cordelia was the first to jump up and run from the room, her face shining with sudden joy.

“Where are we?” asked Tania.

“You shall see,” said Hopie.

They all quit the cabin and went up on deck. They had come to a halt over a dark, hilly landscape. A boat was being readied. Cordelia was already aboard.

Tania leaned over the rail. She guessed they must be a hundred yards or so above the hills. She saw a patch of water. A lake. And close by its bank, she saw a small campfire.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“In the north of Sinadon,” said Eden. “Close to the borders of Weir. We have paused in our journey to pick up the one family member who is missing.”

Tania frowned, confused for a moment. A missing family member? “But . . .” And then it struck her. “Bryn!”

“Bryn, indeed!” said Oberon, coming to her side. “His sad exile is over—he shall learn that his wife is alive and well.”

“Oh, that’s so great!” said Tania breathlessly.

The small boat spiraled down into the darkness.

It was hard to tell exactly what was going on down there, but Tania thought she saw a dark figure by the fire—and also some larger shapes. Unicorns, probably, she guessed. In his grief at the loss of his new bride, it would be likely that Bryn Lightfoot would console himself with the animals that he loved.

The boat rose again, and Cordelia and Bryn stepped out onto the deck of the
Cloud Scudder
, their faces filled with perfect delight.

It was dawn. The sky was white behind the fanged mountains of Hy Brassail, etching them black and sharp in the high airs. The
Cloud Scudder
lay at anchor in the wide bay with the rocky shoreline that Tania and Edric and Rathina had last seen at the end of their long land-bound quest for the Divine Harper. The beaches of heaped, coral-colored pebbles led up to green foothills. Tania could even see the mouth of the very cave where they had been tied up and dumped by Lord Balor.

The Limitless Ocean stretched away to the western horizon, its restless surface glittering in the growing light. Towering clouds glided across the sky, shape-shifting, endlessly transformed by the sculpting wind.

The sails of the Royal Galleon were furled. Almost everyone was on deck, everyone save the King and Queen and Princess Eden. There was a sense of watchfulness and anticipation. For the time being the land in the sky was hidden from them, and without some guidance no one knew how they might find Tirnanog. Tania assumed Oberon and Titania and their oldest daughter must be belowdecks considering their options.