Haven 3 Shadow Magic (Haven Series 3) (3 page)

“Stately, even?”

“Yes.”

And so it was that they both came to realize he was as entranced with her as she was with him. She let him lay her down. She felt the cool leaves on her back and in her hair. Events took their natural course, and she would never forget them.

When darkness had fully fallen over the land, Mari Bowen hurried home again, knowing her mother would be crying and her father would be looking for a switch. Behind her, the field of grain was whole and wholesome again. She sighed to see it and to see Puck, who stood at the very edge of the wood, his skin shining slightly with reflected moonlight. This time, she left Puck wistful and restless, rather than the other way around.

What she did not know was that she was already with child.

For, you see, surviving such close contact with one of the Fair Folk was exceedingly rare. But when both parties agreed to such a union, and both lived through the experience, there was
always
a half-fae child born. This fact had a great deal to do with why such willing unions were strictly forbidden by both peoples.

Chapter Four

Castle Rabing

“So this is the property of our ancestors?” asked Corbin incredulously. “Why have we never heard of it?”

Myrrdin looked troubled. “That omission from your education has much to do with me,” he said.

Brand eyed the cloak of night that fell around them. He was worried about the redcap. He had warned the others about it, but none save perhaps Modi seemed concerned. All of them felt that the creature wouldn’t dare attack with so many of them together, but Brand wasn’t so sure.

Castle Rabing had once been a huge fortress, but now it lay in ruin. The outer walls, long since torn down, were now no more than a set of long low hills that drew lines around the region. But those low hills still held some power and could avert the Faerie, which was why the group had come here. Inside the fallen walls, there were towers at the four corners, each broken and toppled long since. The southern tower was near the river and it was there that Brand had met the redcap one night. Facing the East was the gatehouse, a structure that remained somewhat intact. In the middle of the fallen walls was the largest and most intact structure, the central keep. It still stood, but with many smashed in walls, fallen stairways and tumbled stones.

Instead of settling in the keep or one of the towers, they huddled around a too-small fire in the midst of the ruined gatehouse. It had four walls and only one entrance, as the inner gate had been filled with fallen debris. For a small group, it functioned as a fortress in miniature. Brand sat on a tumbled stone block from the damaged walls of the gatehouse around him. The firelight illuminated the rusted iron grille of a great portcullis that had once barred the outer entrance. Warped and hanging loosely, the portcullis was now easy to slip past. Diced by the grille, squares of orange firelight flickered on the landscape beyond.

They had debated camping in the ruins of the main keep, which was more intact and much larger, but had decided against it. Myrrdin assured them that the keep had no potable water, unlike the gatehouse, which had a spring-fed pool at its center. Brand suspected that there were darker reasons for avoiding the keep. He thought of the redcap in the southern tower, but said nothing to the others. Worse things still might haunt the keep.

“You were here when this castle was…alive?” asked Telyn, intrigued.

Myrrdin looked uncomfortable. “Normally, only the wisest few do I take into my council,” he said. As he spoke, he fiddled with his staff, poking at the fire. He used the staff for everything from walking to stirring coals, but never did it seem to scratch or blemish. Brand wondered where within it the green Jewel Vaul resided. For he was quite certain now that the staff held Myrrdin’s power.

“We aren’t the wisest, perhaps,” commented Corbin, eating an apple he had gotten from somewhere, “but we do have a need to understand these things.”

Myrrdin nodded. He poked at the fire some more and tossed on a few more dead sticks before answering. “Yes,” he sighed, “I was here when this castle was more than an abandoned pile of masonry.”

“But why don’t we know of these things? Why don’t we have some memory of our people’s lives before migrating to the Haven?” asked Telyn.

“Because your elders and I, at the time, felt that it would be best if history were forgotten. You see, people had had enough of war. Most of the warrior houses—you call yourselves clans, now—had been wiped out. People considered them largely the reason for the devastating wars, and no one wanted to see them rise again to repeat past mistakes.”

“So Clan Rabing was one of these warrior houses?” asked Telyn.

“Exactly so,” said Myrrdin.

“They wanted to forget, so they didn’t tell their children of the past,” said Corbin, staring into the flames. “It sounds more like we were beaten then, and that the Pact was a surrender, a shunting aside of humanity to a wilderness that no one else wanted.”

Myrrdin moved uncomfortably. “There is some truth in what you say. But recall that the Faerie were devastated and exhausted as well. They lost far fewer lives than the humans, but they can’t replace them so quickly. A hundred warriors lost among the Faerie may take as many years to recover.”

“That, of course,” interjected Modi, “is one reason they used humans to produce rhinogs. They needed warriors that bred more quickly.”

“Well,” said Brand, speaking for the first time. He noted that they all turned their eyes to him and there seemed a new respect in their attitudes. It gratified him and made him a bit uncomfortable all at the same time. “Well, let’s discuss our current situation. We have yet to see Tomkin, but he is of the Wee Folk and their stealth is legendary, so he could be anywhere. We haven’t seen the Wild Hunt yet, but they too, could be hiding themselves. I don’t think they can come across the outer walls without great effort, if at all, so we should have the warning we need.”

Before continuing he glanced at Myrrdin, who nodded in agreement. “But we must assume that they will come and that they will work to break the ancient charms of this place,” he said. “I suggest we finish our talk quickly and prepare to meet our enemies.”

Modi grunted in agreement, but seemed disapproving of Brand’s commanding tone.

“Agreed, Brand,” said Corbin. “But I for one must know what happened to bring you all the way to the merling stronghold.”

Brand quickly related the events of the last several days, discussing Old Hob, the Will-O-Wisp, Tomkin and Voynod. He made sure to mention their deal with Tomkin, as he had promised. He hurried his tale, leaving out any mention of the axe’s effects upon his thinking and emotions. Indeed, it seemed that the axe tugged at his mind even now, for he felt anxious about the redcap and the expected arrival of the Faerie.

Brand stood up at the end of his tale, but Telyn waved him back down. “Wait, Brand. I simply must know what happened to the rest of you while we wandered the marshes for days.”

As no one else spoke first, Gudrin took up the tale. “The night of the merling attack was a strange one. I can’t account for the others, but it seemed to me that the wisps that you speak of so highly led me astray, although I’m loathe to admit it.

“Separated from the rest of you, I soon found myself alone in the blackness of the marsh, in a darkness as complete as any I’ve ever known in the deeps of the Earthlight below Snowdon’s frozen crown. I found to my despair that I’d left my knapsack and the axe behind. Only my Teret did I take with me, doubtless because I love it more,” she said, thumping her leather bound tome affectionately.

“The merlings fell upon me, and they netted and bound me. I managed to lay a few of them upon the mud, but it was not enough,” said Gudrin, glowering into the fire at the memory. “I believe I would have wielded the axe that night had I been carrying it. I might well have gone feral then, and ruined everything. For this reason, I account us all lucky that Brand took it up that night and still bears it now.”

“I too,” said Corbin, “was captured in a similar fashion.”

“Yes,” said Gudrin, shooting a disapproving glance at Corbin for the interruption. “We were both taken, and brought together, being dragged in a most undignified fashion through the muck trussed up in nets like huge frogs. That’s when Myrrdin and Modi appeared and raided the surprised merlings.”

“Indeed,” smiled Myrrdin. “You did look like great netted frogs.”

Gudrin snorted. “Anyway, they bashed and thrashed the merlings that dragged us and we searched for you two until the sun rose, but found only a few mushy tracks leading off into the trackless regions of the marsh. We followed them until we found what must have been Old Hob’s pond, although we didn’t know it at the time and saw nothing of that evil being. After that, we lost your trail. We found the skiff and decided to continue our journey, since it seemed that your tracks led north as well.”

“Also,” said Corbin, “we didn’t know that you had the axe and had reason to believe that some other party of merlings had taken it back to their stronghold. We thought that way might lead to the axe as well.”

Brand nodded and rubbed his hands together. He gazed out into the darkness of the gatehouse. He thought to see movement, but then figured he had been mistaken. He wanted to rub his eyes, but his gloves and his hands beneath them were too encrusted with filth from the hard trek across the swamp. He ground his teeth together instead.

“When we reached the merling stronghold we came as guests,” continued Gudrin. “The merlings encircled us with armed fighters, but kept their distance. We met with their king and managed to find a means of communication. He related to us that he was essentially neutral, but was glad for the recognition of his people as worthy of notice. He spoke much of the unfairness and misunderstood status of his people amongst the other races.”

“Never have I heard such a complainer!” said Modi unexpectedly. “Not even the Wee Folk can whine so interminably!”

Gudrin gave him a withering glance. “On the second day of our discussions with the king, we learned that Dando was already there, making deals with the merling king on behalf of the Wee Folk.”

Brand smiled despite his unease. The thought of the Wee Folk and the merlings bitterly lamenting to one another of their misunderstood statuses as thieves, spies and prowlers amused him.

“Then the Wild Hunt came in search of Dando and Lavatis. Dando sought to wield Lavatis and turned feral, as you witnessed yourselves. Now, we find ourselves here, alone, and perhaps the target of the Wild Hunt as well.”

A silence fell over all of them, but it was broken when a branch sailed down out of the darkness and landed neatly in the fire. The fire flared up a bit, eating the dry stick hungrily. Modi and Brand were the first up, and both reached for their weapons reflexively.

All of them looked up to the highest pile of stone that still stood in the ruined gatehouse. There, still wearing his fawnskin cap, sat Tomkin. Calmly, he hopped down to the ground and bounded forward to join them at the fire.

Brand sat back down, breathing deeply. The axe on his back shifted and he patted the knapsack absently to quiet it. “To what do we owe this pleasure?” he asked.

The manling warmed his fingers over the fire. “Tomkin is here to claim the promised boon.”

Brand nodded. “Ah, the pouch!”

“Hast thou the craft to remove thy own curse, cheating witch?” asked Tomkin of Myrrdin in a conversational tone.

Myrrdin laughed off the insult. “For you, I would do so even without the bargain you made with Brand. For you have stolen that which Herla so greatly covets!”

Tomkin looked startled then suspicious at the idea of Myrrdin freely removing the pouch. He recovered quickly, however. “Wouldst thou then grant another boon?”

“Possibly,” said Myrrdin in a tone that indicated he already regretted his rash words. “As long as it involves not one drop of my precious blood.”

Tomkin shook his head. “No. Tomkin asks for something far more difficult to provide.”

“What?” asked Brand, interested now.

“Sanctuary,” said the manling. He nodded, indicating something beyond the twisted grille of the portcullis.

Brand turned and gazed out into the darkness.

“Music,” said Telyn. Her voice was not elated this time however, but fearful.

Then the sounds came to Brand, the sounds of wind in trees and water running over stones. The music of earth, sky and water.

“The dark bard has come,” said Telyn.

“Dost thou grant my boon?” demanded Tomkin.

Myrrdin appeared serious. “Yes. We will defend you to the best of our ability.”

Tomkin nodded, satisfied. Then he produced the pouch from beneath his tunic. There was no sign of Lavatis, but Brand suspected it was in his bag or stashed beneath his cap.

“Removing the enchantment will take some time,” said Myrrdin, tapping his bearded chin thoughtfully. “I’m not even sure I can find the required ingredients here on this damp ground. It will take an extensive search, at the very least.”

Tomkin scowled and opened his mouth to speak, but Brand cut him off. “There is no more time for that, or any more chatter,” said Brand, coming to his feet. “The dark bard can’t pass the walls by himself, of this we are sure. About the others, and Herla’s powers using Osang, I don’t know. What do you know, Myrrdin?”