The Dark Thorn (22 page)

“Why would she care?” Bran asked, perplexed. “Richard and I are nothing to you.”

“Why does anyone do what they do?” Deirdre noted, shrugging. “Because they feel it to be the right thing, of course. And usually advantageous.”

“I read about a Morrigan once,” Bran said. “In my world.”

“From what I understand, we are a source of false tales in your world,” Kegan laughed. “Time has erased us like a footprint in a stream. But I am real, am I not?”

“All
too
real,” Bran replied.

Kegan grinned. “First time ye’ve ridden, eh?”

“It is. The pain in my ass grows worse every time I have to get back on.”

“Then walk,” Deirdre said, grinning.

“It will become easier,” Kegan said, smiling at the redhead. “Imagine my sons and I. We have to climb the mane like a rope in order to mount the Rhedewyr.”

“With my luck lately I’ll fall off and break my neck,” Bran said.

“Where there is a will, young Bran. Where there is a will,” Kegan said. “Getting thrown is not the worst that could happen. My father told a tale of my grandfather’s grandfather who, in his drunken dotage, fell off his horse and lost a leg. The hoof severed it right off.” Kegan made a quick slicing motion. “Stay on and ye will not have that problem.”

“Can I ask you a question, Kegan?” Bran asked.

“Always, lad.”

“What are you exactly?”

The Horsemaster looked quizzically at Deirdre and burst with a loud guffaw.

“I am what I am,” Kegan chuckled. “I imagine ye want to know I am a clurichaun.”

Bran frowned. “Is that like a leprechaun?”

“No, no, nothing of the sort!” Kegan said indignantly. “No, I actually
work
for my bed and meals, lad. Lazy imps the leprechauns, the lot o’ them.”

Willowyn brought Deirdre and Bran to the Morrigan, who had decided to wait on her own steed at the side of the trail, her piercing blue eyes never deviating from them. Deirdre knew Bran felt the power of the Queen too; the outworlder shrank a bit as they grew closer.

“Kegan, ride ahead,” the Morrigan said simply, her lips thin.

“My Queen,” the Horsemaster said with a nod, leaving.

“Are you well?” she asked both Deirdre and Bran.

“Better,” Deirdre responded for both of them. “Thank you.”

“I apologize for not speaking with you sooner,” the Queen said, looking only at Bran. “There were…matters of safety and the wounded to consider. It is important we cover our passage fully and I oversee it personally. To make a mistake would be dire indeed.” She then noted Bran’s wounds. “You have been injured but you are strong—more so than you probably think. Like the Lady of Mochdrev Reach here. It takes such people to survive, what you have and what is to come. Has your ride been comfortable?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as I am not tied up,” Bran said.

“Very true,” the Morrigan agreed. “No one likes to be under the yoke, do they, Deirdre?”

“Aye, Queen.”

“You are taking me to Arendig Fawr?” Bran asked.

“Worry not that you have exchanged one captor for another. You are as free as the birds in the trees and can leave at any time, with our helpful guidance of course,” she stressed. “We are indeed going to Arendig Fawr. Those of the Tuatha de Dannan who will not live beneath foreign rule are spread out over these mountains in conclaves to not give our foe the chance at a single death strike. It is in this way we assure our way of life. Arendig Fawr is the center of our people, for the moment at least.”

“And where did the other outworlder go?” Deirdre asked.

“Assuredly Aife has already made it to Arendig Fawr and McAllister is being treated as I speak to you.”

“So you know him?” Bran asked, clearly shocked.

“Never met him,” the Queen admitted. “But the Yn Saith are known to us.”

“Then why save us? If anything, we have endangered you all.”

The mien of the Morrigan darkened. “Innocents shall not suffer under Philip, no matter who they are. And the vaunted High King of Annwn has interest in you that goes beyond mere curiosity. If he wanted you dead, you would be. He captured you for a reason and it could not have boded well for his enemies. That means the fey living in these mountains. That means me.”

“I see,” Bran said, looking uncertainly at Deirdre. “I was told by John Lewis Hugo the king wanted to share his side of things and then let me go.”

“Wanted to talk to you while shackled to that Fomorian, no doubt,” the Morrigan scoffed. “Sent the Houndmaster and the Cailleach, two of his most powerful, after you? Aye, sounds like to me Philip had a lot to speak on.”

“How did you find us?” Bran asked.

“We have spies who watch those who leave Caer Llion,” the Morrigan answered. “Knew John Lewis Hugo leaving meant importance. But Arrow Jack also warned us. The merlin is quite resourceful. Even now he is helping to watch our back trail to ensure we are not being followed.”

“You understand him?”

“One must listen to hear,” the Morrigan said.

“Sounds familiar,” Bran said. “Merle said that to me once.”

“Myrddin Emrys,” the Morrigan sighed. “A wiser man you will not meet. You do well to listen. He has aided the Tuatha de Dannan over the ages. It is hard finding allies in this war but he has ever been one.”

Deirdre looked to the Queen but didn’t say anything. The redhead had spoken to the Morrigan at length about Mochdrev Reach joining the cause of the Tuatha de Dannan. It had caused a rift with her father but it was necessary. The Queen had offered protection for a time but there was more to discuss after saving the outworders. At least the Morrigan was open to adding allies, especially human ones, and that gave Deirdre hope.

“I overheard many of the men around Lord Gwawl say they don’t agree with Philip,” Bran offered. “They all hate the demon wolves. Perhaps you have more allies than you know?”

“Gwawl,” the Queen growled. “Always a snake, that one. He sides with power rather than honor, what is right. It is hard to see those we once called friends side with an enemy who wishes our destruction.”

“Mochdrev Reach is an ally of the Tuatha de Dannan,” Deirdre finally spoke up with a certainty that surprised even her.

“That remains to be seen, Lady Deirdre. Your sire has yet to make that clear,” the Morrigan said. She turned back to Bran. “The last true ally we had came from your world—the last Heliwr.”

“The
last
Heliwr?”

“The Unfettered Knight,” the Morrigan said. “The last being Charles Ardall.”

“My father,” Bran echoed. “You knew him? Knew I was his son?”

“Aye. Arrow Jack said as much,” the Queen said. “Charles Ardall visited these same mountains several times in the past.”

Deirdre had not heard anything about Bran’s parentage. The knowledge surprised her. It seemed the appearance of the knight and Bran could not therefore be happenstance. She didn’t know why they were in Annwn, but if the knight survived his wounds there was a chance they would consider joining the Seelie Court against Caer Llion.

And help sway Lord Gerallt to join Arendig Fawr.

“You favor your father a great deal,” the Morrigan said. “In many ways.”

“I didn’t know him well. He died when I was young.”

“He was strong and kind, a rare man who never made a mockery of the world, the kind who leaves it a better place than when he entered it. I know very few I can say that about, but he was one of them.”

“Why did he come here?”

“Why does any Heliwr come into Annwn? To make amends.”

“I don’t know what that means, to be a Heliwr,” Bran confessed.

“I see. The wizard is playing the game close to his heart,” the Morrigan said. “The Heliwr is the Unfettered Knight—not chained to govern any portal between the two worlds. Whenever a crossing occurs from either world, the Heliwr is responsible for setting it right again if one of the Yn Saith fail.”

“Well, who is the Heliwr now?” Deirdre asked.

“There is not one.”

“So my father…hunted people down, then?” Bran asked. “Like a bounty hunter?”

“Aye, and when other mischief transpired,” the Queen replied. “But now is not the time to speak of such things. Deirdre has no wish to hear a history lesson, methinks. We can make Arendig Fawr before nightfall. There is much we must discuss in the presence of McAllister and the remnants of the Seelie Court. You are safe for now. Relax and enjoy the ride.”

The Morrigan trotted away but turned back suddenly. “These demon wolves you speak of. Did it sound like there were more of them?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I see,” the Queen said.

With the Morrigan leading, the group continued through the rugged terrain of the Carn Cavall. Deirdre guided Willowyn as a quiet Bran finished his apple. She wondered about the outworlders again. The visions her shade mother had shared included her tie to some outworlder. Could Bran be the one her mother had spoken about? Could Richard McAllister? She did not know. The two had come into Annwn for unknown reasons. Were those reasons linked to her life? Could her mother be that clairvoyant? Whatever the case, events had gone tragically awry for them. Was John Lewis Hugo tracking them? Was Richard dying? What would Bran do if the knight did die? The Morrigan seemed fairly certain the knight would recover. If he did, Deirdre wondered how the outworlders would shape her future.

The afternoon wore on as the sun arced the sky. The land died the farther they traveled. One moment broad meadows filled with long browning grasses and lazy insects surrounded her; the next she passed under what once had been enormous waterfalls, now dried to a small trickle. Fewer and fewer forest animals watched them, emaciated and furtive. No birdsong lent music to the day. The peaks of Snowdon loomed, only its uppermost crags still covered in glacier.

As Snedeker sat on her shoulder and Deirdre thought about how she would convince her father to join those in the Seelie Court, Bran touched her arm from behind.

“So, how did you get involved in all of this?” he asked.

“Not the shortest of stories,” Deirdre answered, wondering how much she should tell him. “I live in a city called Mochdrev Reach, out in the plains south of the Carn Cavall. My ancestors aided the Tuatha de Dannan when they fled the persecution of the Misty Isles, choosing to settle apart from the fey. When Philip Plantagenet arrived with his Templar Knights, the Reach kept apart from both groups, autonomous.

“That separation is coming to an end,” she continued. “Philip Plantagenet has taken over much of Annwn and now wants to marry the Reach with his city of Caer Llion. It would bring the two separate groups of humans together, undoubtedly as a single force to fight the Tuatha de Dannan here, in the Carn Cavall.”

“By marry you mean…Philip marrying
you
?”

“As you can imagine, I’m not too keen on the idea,” Deirdre said.

“You shouldn’t be,” Bran said, frowning.

Still staring at the outworlder, Snedeker grunted darkly on her shoulder.

“I would rather choose love than have it forced on me,” she said. “My father, the lord of Mochdrev Reach, is at Arendig Fawr right now to discover with the Morrigan if there is anything that can be done, if we should join with the fey and defy Plantagenet or if we should be absorbed by Caer Llion to keep our people out of harm’s way.”

“Tough choices,” Bran said. “I would imagine you are hoping to not be married to the High King, although war can’t be much better.” Deirdre gritted her teeth at the thought of the forced marriage. “On the streets where I have lived most of my life, the main lesson I have learned is to knock the bully down. Knock the bully down, and they leave you alone.”

“It’s a bit different when thousands of your people are in danger if you want to knock the bully down,” Deirdre said, suddenly taking up her father’s argument.

“Better than you wedded to a tyrant though, right?” Bran asked.

“You are sweet to say so. And yes, that’s how I feel.”

“I would fight to keep you from that cracknettle, Red,” the fairy sniffed. “He will never lay his hands on you if I have my way.”

“Thank you, Snedeker,” Deirdre said, hiding a grin from the earnest fairy.

“And you are friends with a fairy?” Bran asked. “That seems a bit odd.”

“Mind your own business, hotsquirt,” Snedeker shot back, his wings shaking irritably while pointing a twiggy finger at Bran. “I seem to recall a certain fairy helping with your freedom!”

“Okay, okay, don’t get all pissy with me,” Bran said. “Jeez.”

The fairy crossed his wooden arms, watching Bran darkly.

“Yes, Snedeker and I are friends, even if he
is
a bit temperamental at times,” Deirdre said, giving the fairy a reproachful look. “Have been friends now for years. He is prone to thievery, but he has always been there when I needed him.”

“Cat’s right, I have!” Snedeker glowered.

“Well, I hope something can be done,” Bran said. “About Philip, I mean.”

Deirdre fell silent. She hoped that as well.

The company continued into the mountains, the sun waning to the west. Other trails met their own, disappearing into the forests in varying directions. Deirdre took a deep breath. She didn’t know what she had gotten herself into with Caer Llion but she was happy to be as far away from there as possible. Snedeker remained on her shoulder, watching Bran closely with a look of disgust on his mossy face. Deirdre found it odd the fairy was taking such an interest in Bran, but Snedeker had always been a bit odd.

As she thought more on Bran, the mists and trees thinned to reveal Arendig Fawr.

The city grew at the base of a sheer rock wall that thrust into the purpling evening sky, its heights lost in obscurity, its size, construction, and collection of fey awesome. In its shadow, fey intermingled with one another—ogres, leprechauns, cu sith, Fomorians, brownies, cait sith, fairies from different clans, and countless unknown others. All roamed free, most giving Deirdre and Bran quick glances of curiosity, entering and leaving large huts grown from living trees, vines, and flowers that blended with the forest. Through the foliage and hundreds of buildings, Deirdre could just make out the giant set of stone doors standing open and leading to the Cadarn, tiny gnarled trees growing from the rock face above the black maw. Somewhere to the north the roar of a waterfall thundered.