Faerie Tale (7 page)

‘We can rule together,’ she continued in what Denny now realised was a rehearsed monologue. ‘All will worship us.  These people, these pathetic sheep will be our slaves.  It is the least that they owe you.’ 

‘And that was the problem right there,’ thought Denny.  “Pathetic sheep”. She had almost had him, he had to admit, until she said that.  After all, a little appreciation would not have gone amiss. He had occasionally allowed admission to these thoughts, and she had clearly picked up on it. 

But she had not understood him.  He did not want to rule.  He did not want to be worshipped.  You could not treat people like that.  If you did, then you stopped thinking of them as people. Of course,
she
did not think of them as people in the first place.

The needle on the record player of Denny’s mind skidded suddenly backwards.  ‘What stones?’ he asked.

Queen Onagh looked sharply at him.  ‘What?’ she snapped.

‘You said, “the blood of a witch on the stones to bind us to the land …”.’ Then another thought struck him.  ‘What witch?’

The Queen smiled.  ‘I shall enjoy being married to you,’ she said.  ‘I like a challenge.’ She ruffled his hair.  ‘And you’re cute too,’

Denny shivered. ‘I
knew
I wasn’t going to like it,’ he thought.

‘Yes but
what
witch?’ he persisted.  ‘Too urgent,’ he thought.

The Queen just laughed and snapped her fingers.  Several Faeries appeared, as if from nowhere, with expressions on their beautiful faces that went far beyond ordinary malevolence.  They surrounded him and regarded him with glowing eyes.  Some of them giggled.  They had a pent up excitement in their demeanour.  And long sharp knives in their hands. 

 “Uh oh,” thought Denny.  Maybe being married was not the worst thing that could happen to him after all. 

‘It is time to begin your re-education,’ she told him.  ‘When it is complete then you shall know everything.’

As she closed the door of the cell behind her, the Faeries swarmed at Denny. 

At the sound of the first shriek, a smile flitted over her face.  ‘I do enjoy this part,’ she murmured to herself.

* * *

Hecaté blew into Cindy’s room and marched confidently to the terrible tot on the bed.  Like Tamar before her, she swept the child up into her arms and held him up to the window in an iron grip.  A look of alarm spread over the little features at this unanticipated show of spirit. 

‘Ahh,’ began Hecaté carefully. ‘Ooh a coochie coochie coo.’

* * *

‘We’re going in circles,’ said Stiles

‘How can you tell?’ said Tamar.  ‘It all looks the same.’

‘That’s how I can tell.’

‘Oh, well … you’re probably right.  Of course, it would help if we knew where we were supposed to be going.’

‘You can’t sense him at all?’

‘Nothing, I can’t even sense
you,
and you’re right next to me.  Something’s interfering with my powers.’

‘It’s her.’

‘I know – she’s set her will against me.  It’s like blundering about in a fog.’

‘So, where we want to go then, is wherever she doesn’t want us to go, can you tell where that is?’

Tamar stopped and looked around her with her eyes closed – so to speak.  Then she pointed.  ‘There!’ she said.  ‘That’s where we keep getting turned back.

‘Sure?’

‘Oh yes, it’s like a strong wind blowing in my face now that I know what I’m looking for.’

‘North,’ said Stiles looking at his wrist. 

‘What’s that?’

‘Gadget that Hecaté got me for Christmas.  Watch with a compass in it.  Never thought I’d ever get to use the bloody thing, but it comes in handy now.  I’m leading from now on,’ he said firmly.  ‘I just keep going north, right?  Just follow me.’ 

Tamar never wasted time arguing when something self-evidently made sense, and this did.  Stiles’s compass would not be subject to the strange forces that were interfering with her senses.  He would follow that compass to the end of the world if necessary, and nothing would distract him.  He was nothing if not dogged. 

After only half an hour, they stopped because Stiles’s compass suddenly flew out of his hand and stuck to a rock that was rearing straight up out of the ground as if it had been planted there. 

Stiles cursed.  ‘Magnetic,’ he said.  ‘We haven’t been going north at all.  The bloody needle was pointing at these.’

 As they approached, they saw many more of the same type of large rocks arranged in a rough circle.

‘What’s a bloody Stonehenge doing in the middle of a wood, anyway?’ said Stiles.  ‘What a waste of time.’

‘No,’ said Tamar. ‘This is it all right. This is what she didn’t want us to find. I wonder why?

‘But what the hell are they?’ she wondered wandering around the nearest one and feeling her jewellery tugging toward it. 

‘They are the Portal Stones,’

It needn’t be said that this was not Stiles’s voice.

Tamar knew without turning round that it was the gypsy king.

‘What are they then?’ she said trying to sound casual, although she felt as if she was on the brink of finding out something crucial.

‘They guard the portal to the Faerie realm.  They’re there to keep them out – or in – however you want to look at it.’

‘They failed then, didn’t they?’

‘They held her back for a thousand years,’ he said defensively.  ‘I never thought she would get back again.’

There was something about the way he said this that made Stiles’s radar twitch.

‘You know her then?’ he said on a hunch. 

Tamar thought this was silly – how could he?  But as it turned out, Stiles was right.  

‘Oh, I know her all right,’ he said.  ‘I’ve known her for a thousand years.’ 

* * *

She was beautiful Denny supposed from a certain point of view.  But, from another point of view, she was just – nothing.  This was, Denny decided, because he was, in fact, seeing two of her at the same time.  The real one and the one she wanted him to see.  Had he been under her thrall, he would only have seen the beautiful image that she was projecting.  As it was, it was confusing and a little nauseating. 

The folk tales had said that the women of the Sidhe were hollow at the back; Denny was beginning to see what they meant.  Onagh had no substance, only image.  What you see from the front looks real, but from behind, you could see that there was nothing there.  And Denny could – to coin a phrase – see right through her. It was hurting his eyes to look at her.  His eyes kept straining to see what his brain was telling him was not there. 

She would come in between torture sessions to gloat over him. She would stroke his bloodied and bruised face gently, almost lovingly, although Denny got the impression that it was the blood and pain she was fond of, rather than himself.  She was never there when the torture was going on, although Denny had the idea that she had been watching.  ‘She probably has a special gallery,’ he thought wryly.

Despite the fact that she was well aware that he was not under her control, she seemed to have no idea that he was not seeing her exactly as she wanted to be seen.  It might be the reason that, although when she came to him, she was sweetly seductive, (no doubt the point of which was to show him the alternative to the torture he was undergoing – what he would have if he capitulated) she nevertheless seemed to pay scant attention to her attire.  It was a supreme self-confidence that even Tamar could not equal.  Even Tamar did not act as if she could get away with wearing just anything and still look good – even though she probably could.

This latest was interesting, Denny thought.  She seemed to have picked up on the general idea but …

‘You do realise that negligee is on backwards?’ he said.

* * *

The King bowed elegantly, disregarding their shocked expressions.  ‘Finvarra, High King of the Gypsies, Guardian of the Stones,’ he said.  ‘Sorry about that, by the way,’ he added.  ‘Can’t think how she got past me.’

Stiles thought he knew how.  Not the details, of course, but the general theory.  Guarding something gets dull, especially after a thousand years and especially when you believe in your heart that what you are guarding is safe anyway. The Key Stones guarded the portal and Finvarra had relied on the stones.  But
he
was supposed to guard the stones, and he had not. 

Taking all this under consideration Stiles asked. ‘Could someone open the portal from
this
side, get past the stones I mean?’

Finvarra had the grace to look embarrassed.  ‘But why would they?’ he said. 

‘So they
could
then?’ said Tamar pouncing on his uncertainty.

‘Well, yes all
right
, I suppose so.  But …’ 

‘One of yours?’ asked Stiles. 

‘Oh, but … they wouldn’t.  They
wouldn’t
.’  Finvarra insisted.

‘No, probably not,’ agreed Stiles. ‘After all, if they were going to do it, why wait all this time?’

‘What does she want with Denny?’ asked Tamar abruptly.

‘Denny?’  Finvarra looked blank for a moment and then he said. ‘You mean the other one, the blond haired one with the injury?  She took him?’

‘Yes.’

Finvarra shook his head.  ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ he said.  ‘She’s at it again.’

‘What?’

‘She’s going to marry him.’

‘
Denny
?’ spluttered Stiles in disbelief.

‘But she’s married already, isn’t she?’ said Tamar. ‘I thought there was a king somewhere, isn’t there?’

Finvarra shrugged as if this was irrelevant.

‘
Denny
?’ repeated Stiles.  ‘I mean, no offence to the guy, but why
him
?  I don’t get it.’

‘I do,’ said Tamar.  ‘After all,
I
want to marry him.’

‘Yes but that’s different.  I mean why not pick a king or a president or something.’

‘
I
didn’t.’

‘Yes but
she
could have picked
anyone –
someone with power and influence.’

Tamar cocked her head on one side.  ‘What’s your point?’ she asked.

‘Ah, yes.  I see what you mean.’

‘How do we stop her?’ asked Tamar, getting back to the point.

Finvarra looked puzzled.  ‘Stop her?’

‘Ah!’

‘Listen,’ said Stiles, ‘what I don’t understand is why aren’t you … I mean, why
weren’t
you …?  Oh, damn!

‘What we mean is, how are
you
involved in all this?  How can you have known her for a thousand years? Aren’t you human?’  Tamar translated kindly.

 ‘It’s a long story,’ said Finvarra.  Then he caught sight of Tamar’s expression.  ‘Suppose I tell you all about it?’ he added hastily.

* * *

‘Feeling any more amenable?’

Denny managed to raise his head with difficulty, and gave the Faerie Queen a sour look.  ‘Hardly,’ he told her. ‘You know torture isn’t usually considered the best way to make friends and influence people.’  He reconsidered this statement and added.  ‘Well make friends anyway.’

The Queen gave a silvery, tinkly laugh that made shivers run down Denny’s spine.  ‘But what choice do I have?’ she said.’  Your mind is closed.  It would have been so much easier the
other
way.’

‘But not as much fun,’ said Denny, astutely.

‘I like talking to you,’ she confided. ‘We think alike.’

‘I’m sorry you think so,’ he told her. ‘That was sarcasm in case you didn’t realise.’

But Queen Onagh had not heard of sarcasm, so she chose to ignore this remark. 

‘My
last
husband wasn’t like you at all,’ she said.

‘Is he dead?’ asked Denny, slightly fearfully.  He could easily imagine this creature killing a dozen husbands if she took it into her head.

‘Dead?  No,’ she said. ‘He’s around somewhere.  Hatching plots, I’ll be bound.  He betrayed me, you know.’  She clenched her fists and bit her lips until the blood came.  ‘Betrayed
me
… to
witches
!’

Denny closed his eyes. ‘Tell me more,’ he thought fervently.  ‘Tell me
everything
.’ 

* * *

‘Let’s get one thing straight,’ said Finvarra. ‘I’m not on your side or anything.  I mean I’m not human after all.  Not exactly, I just rule them.  ’

‘The gypsies?’ asked Stiles.

Finvarra nodded.  ‘For several generations now.  They are the natural enemies of the Sidhe,’ he added.  ‘It seemed a good choice.’

‘So then, you’re not exactly on
her
side either?’ said Tamar.’

‘If it came right down to it … no I suppose not.  We’ve been estranged for a long time.’  He sighed.  ‘She always gets it wrong,’ he said obscurely.  ‘No patience.  The time is not yet.’  He seemed to be talking to himself.  Tamar noted his words carefully – she would work out what they meant later.  For example, what did he mean
estranged
?

‘Tell us about the Key Stones,’ she said.

‘Witches put up the stones to guard the portal after she went through.’ Finvarra told them. ‘She wasn’t exactly banished you see, just prevented from coming back through. In those days, before the stones were raised, the door was always open, and they came through whenever they wanted, but their court was in the Faerie realm. But she went too far you see, she wanted to rule, tried to marry the King, had him right under her thumb.  They do that you see.  Folk see them the way they want them to.  Except witches and druids – they see everything the way it really is.  Anyway, it was a reign of terror.  People locked their doors and hid under the bed with a handy piece of iron.  Horseshoes nailed to the door, that kind of thing.  Happy days,’ he smiled reminiscently.

Tamar gave him a look.  He coughed self-consciously

‘Ahem!  Anyway a bunch of witches decided enough was enough, so they raised the stones one Winter Solstice night when most of the Sidhe were feasting at court.’

‘But not all of them?’

Finvarra looked surprised.  ‘No there
were
some stragglers,’ he admitted. ‘How did you know that?’

Tamar shrugged.  ‘Call it a hunch,’ she said looking hard at Finvarra.  He did not flinch.