The Silent Goddess: The Otherworld Series Book 1 (2 page)

Chapter Two

The Dark Warrior

He had waited centuries to become whole again; to remember how it felt to feel and breathe again.  Waiting ages to reclaim what was stolen from him.  Every hint, every scrap of news feeding his hope, fueling his desire to recapture the beautiful treasure he had lost as well as his own humanity.  Where there was hope he followed, and that hope always led to disappointment.  In turn that disappointment had grown giving birth to the bitterness he now carried.  His once cheerful disposition had rotted away, consumed by his constant companions; disappointment and bitterness.  All this had led him to this one moment, this one last time.  He made a vow to himself, this time would be different and this time would be the end of his exhaustive search.  This time he would listen to his own heart, his own soul.  But doubt, like an evil mist, still existed.

He had been ready to go to the queen and ask, no beg that she end his existence.  What the others were only now beginning to feel he had felt since the moment he realized she was missing.  To the other Fae she was summer and joy, light and warmth; she was the spark from which all life sprang.  To him she was his life’s spark.  So why when he was ready to give up did she finally speak to him?  Just when he had begun to tell himself that he was searching for a ghost, a distant memory, she returned to give him the nasty feeling called hope.

Dancing in between two worlds could play tricks with the mind, with one’s very sanity.  Maybe he had died long ago and now rested in the world between worlds doomed to forever live his worse reality.  A tiny part of him, the part he had kept safely locked away continued to encourage him.  This time she would be there, this time he would not fail.

All this and more raced through his mind as he gazed out his window.  He could see the dark outline of the old oak trees that encircled the Commons.  It was a place that vibrated with hidden dormant magick.  Of all the places in the New World to hide she would pick the most magickal.  Magick was an old thing in the natural world.  Its building blocks were the four elements that when woven together created a powerful energy.  This tiny city pulsed violently with that power.  Few mortals felt it and even fewer understood it.

By chance, earlier that day while scouting the area he bumped into one such mortal.  Her hair was white with wisdom, and she leaned heavily upon her cane as if the knowledge she bore was a heavy burden.  She had smiled kindly at him and nodded her head in gracious acknowledgement.

“I have not seen one of your kinds since I was a girl, Faeriedae,” her words were spoken softly and had a soothing timber to them.  “Hail and welcome,” she smiled again at him her blue eyes sparkling up at him.

His facial muscles struggled with the effort but had finally managed to return the smile.  “You see well wise woman.”

“I can see well enough,” she agreed with the shrug of a shoulder.  “I can also listen and speak as well. Call on me here if you ever have need of me.”  She gestured with her head to the banner that waved above them.  It read
“The Crow’s Crown”

The wise woman turned then and began pulling herself up the steep granite staircase.  She did not look back.  For a moment he stood frozen, unable to miss the signs in front of him.  His patron the Battle Crow herself was offering him aide through this mortal wise woman.

“Wait, wise woman!” he called after her.

The wise woman paused but did not turn to face him, “Yes?”

“Will she know me?”

“No, not by sight,” she replied as she slipped through the darkened doorway and out of sight.

              He began rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm as if he could erase the memory from his mind’s eye.  The wise woman’s words had haunted him all day.  He had always assumed if he and his
moi-rah
were to ever meet again that some part of her would remember him
.

“Perhaps she had been gone too long or fallen under some dark enchantments”
, his optimistic side whispered.

“Perhaps you were never that important and she ran to hide from you”,
his darker side bellowed.  Unconsciously his hands became fists as he struggled for control and balance.

In the beginning when she had first gone missing, he had been convinced she had been stolen from him and her people.  As time came and went his rage grew strong at his failure to find her.  He had begun to believe she did not want to be found; that it was from him she was hiding.  He struggled daily with the battle raging inside of him.  As a consequence he had thrown himself into any war, fought any foe that threatened his adopted homeland.  He had needed that outlet to allow his rage to escape.  His body had been battered and bruised but the pain was at least only physical.  None of his internal struggle mattered.  Whether or not she remembered him; whether she was enchanted or had fled, none of that mattered he reminded himself.

“Liar,”
muttered his heart.

The Battle Queen had been weakened when her daughter had disappeared from the Otherworld.  She had been gone too long and the magick that held the veil between the worlds was weakening quickly.  Only the determination of both the Battle Queen and Battle Crow was it still intact.  Even the Son of Lir could not repair what he had once created.  Unless the three faces were restored the veil would fall and the Otherworld with it.

“By Midsummer,” the queen had told him.  Which meant the magick of the veil would only hold until then.

Midsummer was an in-between time; a time when the veil would naturally be thin.  It marked the brightest time of the year, and also the beginning of the growing darkness.  It was a time of high magick, and the beginning of summer’s bounty.  It was also
her
time; the time of year when she was strongest and brightest.  If her power was returned to the Otherworld, the veil, that had stood solid and strong since the sons of Mil landed on Celtic soil, could be repaired and renewed.  If not mortal humans who had forgotten the old ways would have the power to see and corrupt the Otherworld.  The Unseelie would have the ability to conquer the Otherworld creating a shift in the balance of the universe that would throw both the mortal and immortal worlds into chaos and destruction.

It would not be the first time he had faced down the double headed demon named chaos and destruction.  In a way they were old friends, locked in a deadly dance, forever to do battle.  A part of him had grown tired of battle.  Almost unheard of where he was from.  The battles a man fought defined him, not peace.  But within peace there was life, the most powerful and ancient magick that existed.  Within war lie death, endings and sorrow that could quickly break a man to pieces that could not be put back together again.  He secretly prayed to the old ones that he would find peace before he shattered like glass; his soul fragmented into tiny shards capable only of making others bleed. 

He closed his eyes and pushed such thoughts out of his mind settling into his purpose; bringing her home.

He had found her trail, doing as she had asked and followed his heart and soul.  It had led him far from the shores of his homeland and to the New World.  As soon as he landed he could smell her, meadowsweet and dewy grasses, just like his vision. 

He had tracked the scent like a hound till it had led him here to Salem.  He wondered if others would be able to find her as easily as he did.  For now, at least, he seemed to be the only one aware of whom and what she really was.  But his presence would soon draw the attention of others.  It always had before.

Their story was legend among the Fae; and those few mortals who kept to the old ways.  If there were others who wished to find her and gain control over her all they would have to do is track him.  It was what he would have done in their position.  Unknown adversaries stalked his shadow surely but the worst among them was time.  He had searched for mortal centuries with time as an estranged ally.  But now, he had only two weeks till high summer.  Time it would seem had changed sides.

Time was not his only obstacle.  He had been enchanted himself, cursed. The queen’s words were plain enough; touch her and you will both feel pain.  It took away his easiest option; simply put, steal her back.  He shivered as he recalled how his arms had burned when he had reached for her in his vision.  He wondered if the queen still had enough power to weave a spell around him.  Was it merely a threat to keep him in line?  And why so effectively tie his hands if she wanted her daughter back so quickly?

“Because she can no’ trust ye,” spoke a familiar voice out of the darkness.

At his surprise the voice laughed a carefree and catchy sound.  “Knackers?” he called into the darkened room. 

“Aye tis only me,” replied a voice that was thick and deep with a heavy brogue.

“Where is thee?”

“Well tis only me voice,” laughed Knackers.  “I’ll join ye on the morrow.”

“Your idea or hers?” he asked, squinting into the darkness.

“Och, I’ve watched over ye since ye were no’ but a whelp,” Knackers replied sounding slightly offended.  “I’ve no intention of lettin’ ye go on yer own.  Besides,” he paused.  “I asked permission.”

Duncan shook his head in disbelief.  Knackers had been with him for as long as he could remember, watching over him while he was just a lad. He had kept Duncan’s secret.  Knackers never spoke a word to his queen when her daughter fell in love with a mortal, a secret that had cast the wrath of the queen upon him.  Till this day Knackers was still paying the price for his silence.

“You mean she does not trust either of us?” he corrected.  “Why not?”
 

“Och, think on it mon!  What but an enchantment would keep ye from runnin’ away wit da queen’s daughter?”

“My honor,” growled Duncan.

“Aye, yer honor. I agree wit ye.  But da queen can no’ afford to trust yer honor.  She kens all too well da power of love.”

“Well,” Duncan ground out through his clenched teeth.  “Please inform the queen that she has limited my options when it comes to the quick and safe return of her daughter.”  His anger infused words threatened to gain control over him.  Duncan quickly wrestled with his temper and won the closely contested match regaining his self-control.

“The queen is well aware o’ the limitations and suggests ye use yer silver tongue.  Is that no’ the way ye wooed her da first time?” Knackers answered barely controlling his laughter.

“Is the queen with you now?”

“Daft mon, o’ course, how else could I be talkin’ ta ye now?”

Duncan took a deep breath and with his most sincere court voice replied directly to the queen.  “I was not aware I had a silver tongue my queen, but I shall do my best.”

Just enough venom must have infected his words because Knackers snickered.  He was rewarded with what Duncan could only guess was a hard smack to the back of his head judging by the sound.

Knackers cleared his throat as he attempted to gain control of his mirth.  Nothing ever fazed him.  “Till the morrow lad”

And then there was silence.

So he was being watched.  The queen was using what little energy she had left to keep an eye on him.  But there was something missing.  He understood the queen’s mistrust, or at least he tried to.  But why not send someone else to bring her home?  What did the queen know that she was not telling him?

A kettle whistled calling his attention away from the cryptic queen.  He crossed the barren room to quiet the screaming kettle.  Through a borrowed enchantment of his own he had gained access to the apartment building next to hers.  It was sparsely furnished, a wooden chair left behind by the previous owner sat in front of the window that overlooked her small garden and front door.  From his perch he would be able to see danger before it approached.  His view afforded his an almost 360 degree view of the surrounding her house including the two streets that ran parallel to her house.  No one would be able to approach without him seeing them.  With Knackers on his way he could concentrate on keeping her protected with the added luxury of someone watching his rear.