Street Fair (Fair Folk Chronicles Book 2) Page 6

This time, she thought she saw a flicker of pale blue light, but the small viewing window in the door was above her eye level, more suited to the taller sidhe than most teen girls. She stood on her tiptoes, leaning against the door to try to get a better look. It was still not a perfect view, but she was more certain now that there was one of the will o’ wisps hovering near the door. That was still no proof but strongly suggested that the Gray Lady might be there. "Hey, I'm sorry to disturb you," she tried. "But this might be really important.”

  She was still met with silence.

  "Give me the map," Megan finally called, reaching for it. After Cassia passed it over, she held the map up to the window. "Do you know anything about the wights buried in these spots?"

  The pale blue light intensified, and an answer came back in a whisper. "I don't use their names."

  Lani stepped closer, nodding firmly. "Darn right. They can just be nobodies... well, except, someone isn't leaving them as nobodies. We just ran into one that woke up. And someone might have Balor's banner."

  The door opened without any sign of the Gray Lady's hand or any other. A will o’ wisp floated just inside. It began retreating further into the poorly lit home once Megan stepped across the threshold, followed by the others.

  The home was just as Cassia had described it, with a variety of simple toys and other artifacts of a small child's presence scattered about the floor, which was otherwise bare, as were the walls, save for the occasional torch. These, Megan quickly found, were similar to some of the magical lights in Faerie, providing light, though very little in these particular cases, but without actually burning down, or giving off much heat. Indeed, despite the flames, the building's interior was colder than the air outside.

  The wisp finally led them to the Gray Lady, sitting alone in a large chair in a library room, which finally broke the trend of the rest of her home, furnished in reasonable comfort, with every inch of the walls lined with the kind of books Megan usually associated with words like tomes or grimoires. The will o’ wisp floated over to the pale sidhe lady, looking almost like a well-dressed marble statue, for the perfection of her blank features—perfect, that is, aside from the tarnish on her silver hair, the black curves under her eyes, and the shimmering, interwoven lines on her cheeks.

  "Hello again, Megan," came the whisper, originating from the will o’ wisp. “You mentioned the wights?”

  Megan considered trying to find a seat, then just stepped up closer to the sidhe lady, holding up the map. "So, you knew about them?" It sounded dumb to Megan even as she said it: of course the Lady would know. Megan just assumed wights were the sort of folk the Gray Lady occasionally had over for tea or something.

  "Some of them, yes,” came the whispers. “I remember some of them from their breathing days. That one in particular." The Gray Lady finally moved just enough to point towards the X within the deepest areas of swampland.

  "Oh, well, good. What can you tell us about him? I mean, we handled the one, even when he sort of took us by surprise."

  Then Cassia spoke up. "We got lucky. He was just waking up. Burial chamber was barely disturbed."

  The comment from the usually cocky satyress caught Megan off-guard enough to turn away from the Gray Lady and give Cassia a quizzical look instead. "Is that going to matter that much?"

  Cassia shrugged cheerfully. "Depends. If the kick-start was a one-time thing, they'll wander home and go back to sleep on their own. But if this collector has a cult, or knows the right rituals or something..."

  "Then what?"

  "Then we're going to have a hell of a fight on our hands. They'll just keep getting stronger, the more time they have to remember who they were."

  "Just so," the whisper added, bringing Megan's attention back to their hostess. "And all of them are different." She gestured to the map. "This one was a sorcerer in life, as were many of his followers. His tomb is not warded only by puzzles and gadgets."

  "So you heard about him, back when, you know, he was alive?" Megan asked.

  "I fought against him in life, when he was allied with the Fomoire, when he was esteemed enough among mortals that many of the Fomoire even knew his name."

  Megan didn't know a lot about the Fomoire, but it didn't sound good. "So, Justin's sword is pretty good against magic, and Ashling is good at getting into places, but..."

  "But you're not going to be cautious this time, either. You'll investigate, one way or another. So perhaps you'll let me help you?" the Gray Lady offered.

  "You must really hate this guy, if you fought him before, and you want to come help us, uhm, re-kill him."

  "Not that kind of help. If Balor's banner has been moved, then other parties must be told, and I need to look into other matters."

  "But you just said—"

  "That I would help you, and I will." She gestured to a spot further north on the map. "His tomb is well guarded by traps and sorcery, but it wasn't warded against the encroaching marsh. Water and tree roots have eaten into the barrow hill. Cassia may be too large, but the rest should be able to climb through the deep roots, and enter the hall the hidden way. Follow the trickle of marsh water and unworked tunnels, but use a minimum of light. You will need surprise, and your wits. If he is, indeed, stirring, then he's dangerous—as the other five will be."

  "Five, but... did you know about the writing?"

  "All of the tombs have plenty of writing, but I'm assuming seven wights, because of the shroud."

  Megan looked back at Cassia. "His cloak? I knew it was magical, but—"

  "Powerful magic. It and six like it shielded Balor Birugderc's poison eye, before the storm god killed him. I couldn't mistake it."

  Megan trailed behind the others as they headed back into the swamp, with Ashling, Cassia, and Justin debating the best way to go about reaching the hidden way into the barrow. The Gray Lady accompanied them as far as the door. Megan almost thanked her, before recalling how opposed the bean sidhe lady had been to her efforts to rescue her father.

  Instead, it was the Gray Lady, via her will o’ wisp, who spoke first. "How is he?" came the small whisper.

  "Oh, uhm, Dad? He's all right. He's been fretting about, well, not having anyone doing your job." Megan wasn't about to apologize. The Gray Lady had never even tried to contradict Megan's concern that she'd been involved in planning the ambush on her father. She'd just walked out without any effort to defend herself, so she at least knew something. If that wasn't enough—which, since Megan had only just acquired her father, it was—Ashling didn't trust her, and so far, the pixie had been the best guide to Faerie politics that Megan had.

  "I see," came the whisper. “Be careful. And remember, your magic may not be up to that of a sorcerer’s, but if your lessons have gotten that far, your counter-magics may help."

  "I've learned some, yes," Megan asserted, trying to recall a few of the lyrics Ashling had helped her with, just to assure herself she could bring the right songs to mind quickly. "We'll be fine."

  "We can hope."

  The two spent a few moments looking at one another in silence, Megan questioning the woman's sincerity as to just what she hoped, and not quite able to bring herself to offer a more genuine thanks due to those doubts. The Lady, in turn, didn't offer any more genuine well wishes. After several awkward moments, the Lady turned, and she and the wisp disappeared back into her home, the doors creaking shut behind them.

  Chapter 12: Backfire

  The Gray Lady had been right about a number of things. The tree roots had burrowed into the barrow right where she'd indicated, opening a sort of passage deep into the earth. Likewise, she'd been right on the dimensions. It was a tight fit for Justin and would have been entirely impossible if he'd brought his chainmail.

  For Cassia and her broad shoulders, there was no chance, even had she, as she said, "stripped down and oiled up.” The offer had received quick, polite refusals. She agreed to stand guard and make sure nothing came in behind them—and gave the cats firm instructions to help out
and obey Megan.

  Justin kept the sword sheathed this time, since he needed both hands to climb among the roots, and it would have been far too bright. Ashling provided a light source again, at a far lower intensity than before. Back at full size, Maxwell went first, having the easiest time climbing among the muddy, slippery root network, while also having little difficulty with the darkness. Jude stayed near Megan and Lani, providing a rear guard of sorts that wasn't bothered by the darkness.

  Eventually, after far too many scratches, slippery mud-near-slides, nearly getting stuck (more a problem for Justin than anyone else), and the uneven light around other climbing people, the path started to level out. For some time, it was still a matter of climbing through tree roots, nearly skating down muddy drops, or figuring out where sinkholes were, but at least it was climbing and clambering forward instead of mostly down.

  After what seemed to Megan like an hour of slow, careful walking and occasionally squeezing through tree roots, they reached the first artificial support. The walls started showing fewer signs of encroaching roots, and the earth appeared more worked.

  Not long after that, Ashling stopped them. "We're getting close. It's warded. I'm not finding a way around it."

  Megan recalled the pixie's occasional very precise movements in the tomb before, and wondered just how many traps she'd allowed them to avoid, beyond those she'd seen evidence of. "So what now?"

  "Two options," Ashling responded. "Three if we had a handy backhoe and a three-foot-thick concrete barrier."

  "That bad?" Megan couldn't help but ask.

  "Only if we cross this line," Ashling pointed out an imaginary line on the floor, "Or mess with the ward the wrong way, or mess up with anti-magic, or maybe jump around too much, or breathe really hard in this direction." Megan and Jude both drew back a little, careful to direct their breath elsewhere, in case.

  "So, we have two options. How do we get through?" Megan asked.

  "The more I think about it, the more options we have. It's too bad we don't have a goblin minesweeper or something."

  "That's a thing?" Megan knew she was going to regret asking, but had to know now. "What sort of equipment do they use for that?" After seeing the goblin market, Megan was trying to imagine what sort of tech or magic might be involved.

  "Running shoes," Ashling answered cheerfully. "Hopefully really good ones."

  Megan blinked, horrified. "Why would they do that?"

  "Ogres, trolls, and redcaps are usually scarier than land mines and runes of warding," Ashling responded with a shrug.

  "We're not doing it that way," Lani stepped in. "You started with two options. What are those?"

  Ashling sighed. "Okay, so with what we have on hand, I can point out where the wards were inscribed, and Justin could smash it—while we hope the sword's anti-magic is enough—or I can help Megan counter-song them."

  "Those are really noisy options," Lani said.

  "They're what we have," Ashling said, slightly apologetic. "At least we're close. If we'd gone the other way, this probably would have been right at the start."

  "All right, I'll take this one," Justin said.

  "You're sure?" Lani asked. "Megan might be safer."

  "I'm sure. Counter-magic might be safer, but slower. If this is our chance for surprise, we need to be quick. I'd rather chance this than giving the wight too much time to prepare. And we'll need her soon enough. Everyone but Ashling, back up."

  There was some hesitation, but eventually, everyone backed away. Ashling stayed on Justin's shoulder, assuring the Count she'd be fine, then pointed out the spot on the wall where the warding enchantment originated.

  The sword struck the wall, and there was instantly two flashes of bright light: the sword's whitish flames and an unnatural green from the wall. Accustomed to the dark, Megan shielded her eyes, but not in time. She was vaguely aware of a lot of motion around her, but could only see swirls and spots. A few moments later, the shouting began, and she heard a ringing of metal on metal, followed by the sound of the cats growling and hissing, followed by more metallic noises.

  Something grabbed at Megan's leg, and she almost kicked out, trying to get it away, before Ashling's voice cut through the chaos, and she became aware the pixie was climbing her, shouting something. After a moment to collect herself and focus, the words started making more sense. "Counter-song, Megan, now! They need help!"

  Her vision started to clear. The swirls and sparkles started to turn into shadowy outlines. She was pretty sure that was Justin's shadow, fencing with two bulky figures with swords. Leopard-shaped shadows darted in and out of a fight with a couple more of the suits of armor—because as things took on a more coherent shape, she figured out that's what the sources of all the metallic noises were: four suits of ancient armor, without any sign of the men underneath. A fifth figure stood in the background, guarded by the others. This one wore less armor, but seeing more than that was made difficult by—in addition to the lights swimming in front of Megan's eyes—the fact he wore another of the light-eating cloaks. She could, however, see the glowing green of his eyes.

  She first hit on the inspirational march from last time, but that didn't seem quite right. Her allies weren't struggling with fighting off fear this time. Still, it couldn't hurt, and it was the first thing that came to mind.

  "Not that one!" Ashling called, reaching Megan's shoulder, and starting to hum. Megan caught on, and set into a new song, trying to remember the old Gaelic lyrics by rote memory, rather than actually understanding what she was singing. As she did, Ashling joined in, singing into her ear to help.

  As the song started, the wight hesitated, gesturing and moving less, and focusing in on her. As Megan's song echoed through the halls, and the wight's attention shifted, she noticed a marked difference in the armored figures. Their movements were slower, and their swings had less force behind them. Where before, Justin had been struggling defensively, he easily parried a blow aside, and got in a good counter-offensive, leaving a deep cut in one suit of armor. Unfortunately, it didn't fall, as any living combatant would have, but the wound still slowed it down, and left it vulnerable.

  The cats, working as a team, were also able to take advantage. When a sluggish swing missed Jude, Maxwell pounced at a knee, knocking the suit over entirely, but he had to back away when the other suit near them lunged. Regardless, the difference in the fight was showing already.

  That's when the wight's tactics changed as well. Megan caught hints of a booming voice, speaking some variation of Gaelic, and his right hand began to glow, before he pointed at her, and a burst of bright green fire shot her direction. Ashling's tone in her ear abruptly shifted, and Megan tried to match it... and went silent.

  Justin leaped into the way of the jet of fire, with far better reflexes than Megan could have managed. The Claiomh Solais flashed a bright white when the green flames hit. Justin was left lying on the floor, showing no signs of the horrible burns Megan was envisioning, but was still slow to get up, while the armored figures closed on him.

  Meanwhile, letting the armored figures move, more slowly, but with less of his direct input, the wight was chanting again, with the fire building back up. Megan made another attempt at the part of the song Ashling was trying to guide her through, but there was nothing. She started to panic, finding that she not only couldn't hit the notes, but when she tried, she went dead silent.

  Lani rushed into the breach while Justin was trying to recover from the saving dive, and being hit by whatever part of the spell the Sword of Light hadn't canceled. Lani had a wrench in one hand, and a hammer in the other—neither was proving very effective, but with the armored figures moving so slowly, she was managing to protect Justin, while the cats went back on the defensive.

  Just as the next blast of fire was being launched, a small, dark, feathered shape dove for the wight's eyes. Throwing an arm up in front of his face to fend off the Count, the blast shot upward, hitting the ceiling above Megan. The black scorch mark o
n the stone was bad enough. Much more disturbing was the way the edges of the burn seemed to keep moving, sending black lines snaking out across the stone. Whatever the wight was launching at her, it definitely wasn't normal fire. She kept trying, her mouth moving, but ended up just managing a few orphan notes around gaps of silence. The only thing she was managing was keeping the wight's attention on her, instead of directing the armored figures.

  A third blast of fire arced her way, and she jumped to the only song that came to mind, switching to a rock song she'd practiced in her back yard, and sending a blast of wind outward. As she did, she felt Ashling contributing some kind of magical push of her own. The green fire exploded outward on impact with the sudden wall of wind, and she felt an intense blast of heat, followed by a growing nausea. The arms she'd thrown up in front of herself defensively had bright red burns, and given the feel of it, she suspected her face did too.

  When she tried to go back to singing, and getting the winds to pick back up, she found that her throat felt raw, and the notes wouldn't come out right. She'd saved herself once, but it wasn't going to happen again.

  Thankfully, it didn't have to. As an armored thing closed on Lani, Justin rose to a knee and swept his sword low. It didn't react nearly in time, and the flaming sword took a leg off at the knee, and cut halfway into the other. While the suit kept crawling, it couldn't swing effectively, and Lani fended the other one off.

  Maxwell leapt directly over a sword swing from another, attaching himself to the figure's helmet, latching on, and kicking the figure's chest and stomach hard with clawed back legs. While it staggered, Jude raced between the armored legs, springing at the wight as he was about to launch another stream of green flame. The spell hit the wall as the wight fell backwards, with a helmeted leopard clawing at his face.

  Justin quickly took out the legs from the figure attacking Lani, freeing them both to rush the wight. The undead figure bellowed a new syllable, amidst trying to protect its head, and both Jude and Lani went flying back as if struck by some sort of wave of impact.