The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance (24 page)

You’l be freezing in those flimsy clothes.”

“My name is Alanna, and I’m hardly a girl.”

She had to be if she responded to Nial ’s condescension, or at least naive. Fae lived so long and never changed much once they were ful y grown that it was difficult to tel what age they were.

She could be twenty-five or four hundred and fifty.

Alanna stepped al the way into the forge, darting nervous glances at the iron – the anvil, his tools, the piece of crane he was mending. “I’ve been sent to give you a commission.”

“You were
sent
were you? Poor lass. You must have offended someone high up to be handed the thankless task of entering the mortal world to speak to a Shifter.” Her cheeks coloured but her tone remained haughty. “I’ve come to ask you to forge a sword. I believe you were once a sword maker of some repute.”

“In days gone by. Now I’m a humble blacksmith, making practical things for vil agers here and on the Great Island.”

“Nonetheless, I am certain you retained your skil . The sword is to have a blade three feet in length, made of silver. The hilt is to be of bronze.”

Nial drew the crane from the fire, set it on his anvil, and quickly hammered the glowing end into shape. “No,” he said.

“What?”

He enunciated each word. “No, I wil not make such a damn fool weapon for you.” Alanna regarded him slack-jawed, a very un-Fae-like expression. Fae were cold beings, barely bringing themselves to speak civil y to non-Fae. Fae had once bred Shifters to hunt and fight for them, and they regarded Shifters as animals, one step below humans.

This woman looked troubled, confused, even embarrassed. “You wil do this.”

“I wil not.”

“You must.”

Was that panic now? Nial thrust the iron crane back into the fire and got to his feet. The Fae woman stepped back, and Nial fought an evil grin. Nial was big, even for a Shifter. His arms were strong from a lifetime of smithy work, and he’d always been tal . Alanna would come up to his chin if he stood next to her; her slender hands would get lost in his big ones. He could break her like a twig if he chose, and by the fear in her black eyes, she thought he’d choose to.

“Listen to me, lass. Go back to wherever you came from, and tel them that Shifters take orders no more. We are no longer your slaves, or your hunters, or your pets. We are finished.” He turned back to pump the bel ows, sweat trickling down his bare back. “Besides, silver won’t make a decent sword. The metal’s too soft.”

“Spel s have been woven through the metal to make it as strong as steel. You wil work it the same as you would any other sword.”

“I wil , wil I? Fae don’t use swords in any case – your weapon is the bow. Not to mention the copper knife for gouging out other beings’ hearts, usual y while they’re stil beating.”

“That is only the priests, and only when we need to make a sacrifice.”

“
Sacrifice
, you cal it? Seems like it’s not much of a sacrifice for you but hard on the one who’s losing his heart.”

“That’s real y none of your affair. You need to make the sword for me. What we use it for doesn’t concern you.”

“You are wrong about that.” Nial lifted the crane again, quickly hammered it into its final shape, and thrust it into his cooling barrel. Water and metal met with a hiss, and steam boiled into the air.

“Anything I make has a little part of meself in it. I’m not putting that into a sacrificial weapon you’l stick into helpless animals or humans or Shifters who never did any harm to you.” Her brow clouded. “A piece of yourself? Blood or a bit of skin . . .?”

“Not literal y, you ignorant woman. I don’t christen it with blood, like some Fae priest. I mean I put a bit of my soul in everything I craft. Gods know I wouldn’t want Fae touching anything that’s come close to my soul.”

Her face flamed, and her look was now . . . ashamed? “Shifter, I have to take this sword back with me at first light.”

Last light was now streaming through the door, the spring air turning even more frigid. “And where would I be getting time to craft such a thing before morning? Sword-working is a long business, and I have sons to look after. I’m not doing it, lass. Go on home and tel them you couldn’t bul y the big, mean Shifter.”

“Damn you.” Alanna clenched her fists, eyes sparkling. “Are al Shifters this bloody stubborn? I thought I could do this without hurting you.”

Nial looked her up and down. Fae could work powerful magic, without doubt, but not much in the human world. They’d given up that power to retreat to the safety of their own realm, while Shifters had learned to adapt and remain in the world of humans. Fae stil had magic out here –

minor spel s, glamour and misdirection, not that they didn’t use those to lure human beings to their deaths.

“Could you hurt me, lass? In this forge ful of iron? I lost my mate ten years ago. That hurt me more than anything in the world ever could. I doubt you could match that pain, no matter how many tiny spel s you can throw at me.”

“No?” Alanna asked, her voice ringing. “What about if you lost your cubs?” Nial was across the room and had her pinned against the wal before the echo of her words died, the iron bar he’d just cooled in the water pressed across her pale throat.

Two

The Shifter was stronger than she’d imagined, and the iron against Alanna’s skin burned. The spel that her brother had grudgingly let his chief magician chant over her kept the worst at bay, but the bar felt white hot.

Odours of sweat, fire, smoke and metal poured off the Shifter cal ed Nial . He’d scraped his black hair into a tight braid, the style emphasizing his high cheekbones and sharp nose, the touch of Fae ancestry that had never disappeared from Shifters. His hard jaw was studded with dark whiskers, wet with sweat from his labours. The whiskers and sweat made him seem so raw, so animal-like. Fae men were beardless, their skin paper-smooth, and she’d never seen one do anything so gauche as sweat.

Studying the Shifter’s stubbled chin kept Alanna from having to look into his eyes. Those eyes had been deep green when she’d entered the forge; now they were nearly white, his pupils slitted like a cat’s. He
was
a cat, a predatory cat bred from several species of ancient wildcats, and any second now he’d tear her apart.

And then his two sons would die.

Nial ’s towering rage held her as firmly as the iron bar. “You touch my cubs, bitch, and you’l be learning what pain truly is.”

“If you do as I say, they won’t be hurt at al .”

“You’l not go near them.”

“It’s too late for that. They’ve already been taken. Make the sword, and you’l get them back.” The Shifter roared. His face elongated, and animal lips pul ed back from fangs. He didn’t shift al the way, but the hand that held the bar sprouted finger-long claws.

At that moment Alanna hated al Shifters and al Fae, especial y her brother Kieran, who’d told her that subduing the Shifter would be simple.
They will do anything to protect their whelps. We’ll
carry them off, and he’ll whimper at your feet.

Nial O’Connel , master sword maker of the old Kingdom of Ciarraí
,
wasn’t whimpering or anywhere near her feet. His fury could tear down the forge and crumble the cliff face into the sea.

“Make the sword.” Now Alanna was the one pleading. “Craft the sword, and the little ones go free.”

Nial ’s face shifted back into his human one, but his eyes remained white. “Where are they?”

“They wil be released when you complete the sword.”

Nial shoved her into the wal . “Damn you, woman,
where are they
?”

“In the realm of Faerie.”

The Shifter’s pupils returned to human shape, his eye colour darkening to jade as grief fil ed them. Nial ’s shoulders slumped, but though his look was one of defeat, the iron never moved from Alanna’s throat. “Gone, then,” he whispered.

“No,” Alanna said quickly. “If you give me the sword, they wil be set free. He assured me they would not be harmed.”

“Who did? Who is this Fae bastard who’s taken my children?”

“My brother. Kieran.”

“Kieran . . .”

“Prince Kieran of Donegal.”

“There was a Kieran of Donegal in Shifter stories of long ago. A vicious bastard that a pack of Lupines final y hunted and kil ed. Only decent thing the bloody dogs have ever done.”

“My brother is his grandson.”

“Which makes you his granddaughter.” Nial peered at her. “You don’t seem al that pleased to be running this errand for your royal brother. Why did he send you?”

“None of your affair.” Enemies saw your compassion as weakness and used that against you, Kieran had told her. Kieran certainly used every advantage over his enemies – and his friends as wel .

“Back to that, are you?” Nial asked. “What assurance do I have that you’l not simply kil my boys whether I make the sword for you or not?”

Alanna shifted the tiniest bit, trying to ease the pain of the bar on her throat. “You have my pledge.”

He snorted. “And what worth is that to me?”

“My pledge that if your children are harmed, you may take my life. I wasn’t just sent as the messenger, Shifter. I was sent to be your hostage.”

Even through his pain, his grief, and his gut-wrenching fear, Nial couldn’t deny that the Fae woman had courage. He could kil her right now, and she knew it. She offered her life in exchange for his sons with a steady voice, though she obviously knew that a Shifter whose cubs were threatened was more dangerous than an erupting volcano. And even though she’d said she’d been given a protective spel against iron, Nial knew the cold bar hurt her.

Slowly he lifted it from her throat. Alanna rubbed her neck as though it pained her, but the bar had left no mark.

Nial stopped himself having any sympathy. She and her brother had taken his boys, Marcus and Piers, who were ten and twelve as humans counted years.

He looked past her to the darkening night, to the mists gathering on the cliff path, to the Great Island silhouetted by the blood-red sky. “My youngest, Marcus, he likes to fish,” he said. “The human way with a pole and hook. Wil he be able to fish where he is?” Alanna shook her head. “The game and the fish in the rivers are for Kieran only.”

“My mate died of bringing him in, poor love. She was a beautiful woman, was Caitlin, so tal and strong.” Nial looked Alanna up and down. “Nothing like you.”

“No, I don’t suppose she was.”

Shifter women tended to be as tal as the males. They were fast runners, wild in bed, and laughed a lot. Caitlin had laughed al the time.

“Piers, now. He likes to craft things. He’l be a smith like me. He likes to watch the iron get red hot and bend into whatever shape he tel s it. He’d love to have watched me make this sword.” Alanna said nothing. Nial knew what he was doing, why he was saying these things. He was letting himself start to grieve.

Deep in his heart, he didn’t believe Prince Kieran would ever release his sons. Fae didn’t play fair. Nial might be al owed to take Alanna’s life in vengeance for his sons’ deaths, but it would be an empty vengeance. He would have no one left. No mate, no cubs, no one left in his pride. Nial lived here on the edge of this human vil age cal ed Baile Ícín, because the other members of his pride and clan had died out. Shifters could marry into other clans, but there weren’t as many females as males any more, and other clans were few and far between. The Shifter race was diminishing.

“You’l make the sword then?” Alanna asked, breaking his thoughts.

She didn’t have to sound so eager. “I don’t have much bloody choice, do I?” Her eyes softened. “I am sorry.”

Sympathy, from a Fae? Had the world gone mad today?

“You wil be, lass. If my cubs are hurt in any way, you’l be the first to be very, very sorry. Your brother, now, he’l be even sorrier stil . So show me this damned silver and let’s be getting on with it.”

Three

Forging a sword was a different thing entirely from the usual practical ironworks Nial produced for the humans of the vil age. Nial never asked Alanna why he’d been chosen for this task, because he already knew.

Once upon a time, Nial O’Connel had been a master sword maker, before Ciarraí had been made an earldom by the bloody English. He’d created beautiful weapons used for deadly purpose in the last Fae–Shifter war. The Shifters had won that war, though Nial knew much of their victory had been due to luck – the Fae had already been losing power in the mortal world, and the Shifters had only made their retreat into the Faerie realms inevitable.

It wasn’t often that Shifters from different clans and species worked together, but at that point, Lupine, Feline and Bear had fought side by side. The Fae had conceded defeat and vanished into their realm behind the mists.

Well,
conceded defeat
was too strong a phrase. The Fae had gone, kil ing, burning and pil aging behind them. Fae didn’t care whether their victims were children, breeding mothers, or humans who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Nial stil had his sword-making tools kept safely in a chest at the back of the forge. He hadn’t touched them in years. He shook his head to himself as he laid out his tongs and hammer, grinding stone and chisel. This sword wouldn’t be good, strong steel, but soft silver, which was daft, even if she claimed it was spel ed to work like steel. He could craft such a thing, but it would only be good as a trinket.

He briefly considered mixing a bit of iron into the hilt to debilitate any Fae who touched it, but he knew such a trick would make his sons’ deaths even more certain. Not that he believed the Fae Prince would let Nial live either, in any case. But Nial would take out the Fae bitch when they came for him. Prince Kieran would watch his sister die before he kil ed Nial .