Sunshaker's War (48 page)

This time, though, it showed
two
places at once. In one red-clad Lugh, Ard Rhi of Tir-Nan-Og, stood proud if a little harried in the prow of his flying silver flagship, long mustache beating against his golden cheek-guards, yellow embroidered sun-disc rippling upon the crimson silk sail behind him as he held the spear aloft and scanned the skies and the waters with eyes grown narrow and wary.

The other place revealed Finvarra. A dour prince in black and gold, standing aloof from his men and shouting orders from the bow of his jet-black vessel while behind him warriors took on the shape of wyvems and winged aloft to harry the gryphons Lugh's forces had sent there to reconnoiter. His face was rather gaunt, his hair black, and there was a familiar hint of madness in his eyes.

The ritual was different this time, though: For the first time no one leapt through the gate. Instead, Ilionin simply gestured and uttered a Word, and before David had time to know what was happening, the gate faded, and two more figures suddenly appeared in the cabin—and were immediately surrounded by bristling spears.

“You!” Lugh shouted, upon first seeing Finvarra. “What folly is this?”

“
You
,
I should say,” Finvarra interrupted with a sneer—and then fell silent as his gaze slid sideways past the guards to Ilionin. “Dana! What treachery has befallen us?”

“I am not Dana,” Ilionin replied calmly. “But I sometimes speak in her name. You are on my vessel, and I am captain of this fleet, therefore I could claim both of you as prisoners—if I sought to precipitate another war. Or we could stay here and watch this one a while longer, and see how many more people suffer needless pain.
Or
we could talk about peace—and perhaps an even more serious thing.”

“Such as?” Finvarra spat, eyeing Lugh with even more distrust than he eyed the guards whose spears ringed them at chest level.

“Such as the fate of all the Worlds here about.”

Lugh suddenly seemed to notice David and lifted a slanted eyebrow. “Well, David Sullivan,” he chuckled, oblivious to the glowering Ilionin, much less his adversary. “I had not expected to see you again, and certainly not here—though now I think on it, I am not surprised.”

“You
shouldn't
be,” David told him with more sarcasm than he'd intended, given the delicate situation. “You hinted enough about the war sloppin' over into our World.”

Lugh looked genuinely concerned. “And has it?”

“You could say that.”

“Enough,” Ilionin commanded. “It is time we spoke of certain things.” She turned her gaze to David. “David Kevin Sullivan, would you like to begin?”

David took a deep breath. “Maybe if we all sat down…? I mean, this is gonna take a long time, and I
know
you folks know each other”—he eyed Lugh and Finvarra—“so you might as well forget about puffin' up and posturing and listen to what I've gotta tell you.”

“Upstart Mortal!” Finvarra shouted. “I will—”

Ilionin cut him off. “You will do
nothing,
King of Erenn—except listen.” Her tone left no room for discussion.

David glanced at her, shrugged, and as soon as the guards had prodded the two unwilling guests to low cushions on the floor, began again. “Well, to start with, how much do you know about the Worlds?
Really
know, I mean?”

“There is Faerie,” Finvarra said promptly. “There are the Lands of Men—and the Country of the Powersmiths, I suppose,” he added sourly. “If one can truly consider that a realm. And of course there is the place we came from.”

“There are others, too,” Lugh took up. “The Lands of Fire that lie below Tir-Nan-Og…”

“And many others,” Ilionin finished for him. “But it is of three, in particular David must speak.”

“I do not wish to listen to this,” Finvarra spat. “No Worlds matter but our own—and certainly not the Lands of Men!”

“
That's
where you're wrong!” David shouted, then regained control of himself. “Without the Lands of Men, there'd probably
be
no Faerie!”

He went on then, explaining as much as he could about the multiplicity of Worlds, about the Tracks that linked them and sometimes created them, about how the suns of three worlds were intimately connected so that a threat to one was a threat to all.

Sometimes the concepts were almost beyond him, and at those times he vainly wished Calvin was there, then found himself wondering if the Indian had succeeded in his quest to find Uki. At other times, fatigue—and nerves—and Finvarra's constant glower—nearly overpowered his adrenaline rush and made him forget something important or lose his train of thought, so that even the wine Ilionin had offered him perked him up but little.

“So,” Finvarra snorted, when David had completed his discourse on cosmology, “but what has this to do with our war?”

“A lot,” David said, taking a long draught of wine to fortify himself. “If one of those Worlds ceases to exist, it could endanger all the others.”

“And what is that,” Finvarra wondered, “to we, who are immortal?”

“Because…because you're not
alone
in this!” David stammered furiously. “Because there're other sentient creatures who don't have it so lucky! Because…it's just not your
right
to make decisions that big. You're a goddamn
king
,
Finvarra! You're supposed to govern your country, do what's best for your folks! Do you
imagine
there's one of 'em that'd choose to die if he didn't have to, even if he was gonna be reborn? And what if you can't be? What if there's no substance for you to rebuild bodies
from
?
What if there're no wombs to re-quicken in? How'd you like that, huh?” He paused for breath. “I mean,
we
deal with it all the time, us ‘foolish Mortals,' as you guys like to call us. We
know
we're gonna die, and we
don't
know what comes after and it scares the shit out of us. And now you're lookin' at the same thing if you don't stop this goddam war! Think about
that
,
Finvarra—you too Lugh, though I think you've got a little more sense—you guys might
really
die. And even if you did come back, who's to say you'd be lucky again and find a World where you could be immortal? Wouldn't
that
be fun? Maybe then you'd gain some respect for Mortals. Maybe then,” he added, “you'd really know something about fear.”

He went on, did not know how long he spoke, only that by the time he had finished stating his case a strange sort of eloquence had set in, and he found himself speaking in ringing phrases and catchy lines, rather like he had felt when composing the graduation speech he had delivered such a few days before. Lugh nodded from time to time, and eventually even the dour Finvarra began to look troubled.

Finally Lugh broke the silence. “This is a dire thing, Lady,” he said to Ilionin, “and war or no, motivation or no, the boy is correct: it is not a thing that can continue. War itself may be entertainment, often it is, though not always for those who fall by the way. But when that war threatens existence itself—who can say what might happen? Oh, aye, we are immortal. But if there is no Galunlati, there might soon be no Lands of Men, and if no Lands of Men, then no Faerie. What would happen then? Would we be souls adrift with no bodies? That is not a thing I like to think on. Is it for you, brother prince?”

Finvarra shook his dark head grimly. “I am not convinced.”

“Not convinced!”
David threw up his hands in exasperation and flopped backward on the thick gold-and-crimson rug, his mind completely blank of responses. “I give up!” Alec and Liz were instantly beside him, offering wine, and urging him back upright.

He took a sip, then set it aside and glanced sheepishly at Ilionin. “Sorry, Lady, I've given it my best shot and this…this arrogant
fool
won't listen. That's it, I'm done. The ball's in your court now.”

Ilionin started to speak, though her face too was dark with anger, but Alec interrupted.

“No, it's still in our court,” he said quietly. “There's still one thing we can do: we can show this S.O.B. the future!”

David looked up, his face suddenly bright with cautious hope. “Good God—you're right! We've still got the ulunsuti—if we can get 'em to use it. And
they'll
have to do it too—we can't show it to 'em, they'd never trust us!”

“A notion of excellent merit,” Ilionin acknowledged, then turned her gaze to her unwilling guests. “I could hold you for ransom if I wished, and perhaps end the war that way—or perhaps only relocate it. Or I could send you back and let you discover your own folly—and the folk of three Worlds with you. Or you can mix a bit of your blood with mine and see what we shall see.”

“I am willing,” Lugh said slowly.

“I am not,” Finvarra snapped. “Who is to say there is not some treachery afoot to confound me?”

“Yourself will tell you,” Ilionin informed him. “You know something of augury, else you would not wear your crown. Surely you can distinguish false from true.”

“Or are you just scared?” David asked from the floor. “I've conquered my fears about this stuff—about shape-shifting and all. Alec has too, he's been scared shitless of magic, and yet he's the one who's come up with the best suggestions lately.”

“And scrying usually tells me things I don't really want to know,” Liz added, taking David's hand.

“I fear nothing!” Finvarra cried.

“Then you will agree,” Ilionin told him sweetly. “Come, we will even use that little dagger you think I have not seen you fondling.”

*

What followed was the familiar ritual, except that the participants, save Alec who had to take part, were all immortals.

Alec took the west, Ilionin the east, Finvarra the north, and Lugh the south. Blood was spilled, the ulunsuti was fed, and to David, who sat on the sidelines and watched, very little happened, except that the Sidhe closed their eyes and breathed very, very little—until suddenly Finvarra began gasping and collapsed forward across the crystal, breaking the bond that had linked them. Lugh blinked, then Alec and Ilionin. The Powersmith scooted around to examine her fallen foe.

Finvarra's face was very pale indeed, but he opened his eyes. “Death,” he whispered, “and nothing beyond it. All roads lead to that but one.”

“Is it peace then?” Ilionin prompted, as she helped him to his feet and returned to her throne.

“It is,” the Ard Rhi of Erenn acknowledged sourly, “though my tongue chokes me to admit it.” No more would he say.

“Will you call off your fleets, then?” Ilionin asked calmly, though her tone indicated there was only one proper answer. “I will call off mine at your word.”

“Aye,” Lugh replied quickly. “I will do this thing.”

“I also,” Finvarra grunted. “I have no choice any longer, and truly I am weary of all this contention.”

David heaved a sigh of relief. “Then it's over?”

Lugh shook his head sadly. “Not over, David. There is still the matter of your World encroaching on Faerie, something that neither of us can control. There is still a threat, we have merely removed one. The responsibility is now on you and your kind.”

“I can't do anything about
that
,
though,” David protested wearily.

“Can you not?” Lugh asked him. “All things are possible in time.”

“I'm mortal, though. Time's the one thing I don't have.”

“Then you will have to hurry, won't you?” Lugh chuckled.

“But the war's over, really? You promise?”

“I promise,” said Lugh, casting a wary eye toward Finvarra before turning his gaze back to David. “Do you?”

“I can't speak for my kind,” David sighed helplessly. “I wish I could.” And with that he fell silent, as Liz took his hand and led him back to his seat.

* * *

The war that had begun with a storm ended with lightning. One last time Alec and Ilionin called upon the Power of the ulunsuti (of which it still had much, thus he had to provide no more blood) to open gates. This time Lugh and Finvarra passed through—as one, so that neither would feel himself slighted. The atmosphere was still edgy. A flash of light, and the Faery kings were gone.

The gate was still fading in the cabin when Ilionin ushered them on deck a good while later. It was morning—almost, or at least the sky was brightening in the east. David sprinted to the prow, for he had seen something there that intrigued him. Beyond the copper dragon he could see three armadas—both in the air and on the water—each slowly disengaging: Black sails to the north and gold to the east—and red sails southward. The kings must have passed their orders quickly. He hoped they were sufficient.