Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

F iacail took her time as she swam back to the caves, giving more thought to what Speal had proposed. The notion of Derdrui and Duxor fighting and possibly destroying each other entertained her to no end, but she doubted that would happen. Her aquatic master had managed to avoid being captured and killed by the MacMar and his own kind. The enchantress had survived being imprisoned by the Fae king for centuries, and had escaped Elphyne as well. With their powers neither of them would easily prevail over the other.

What if they mated? She tried to imagine the sort of creature Derdrui would birth from Duxor's seed. A Fae with gills and webbed toes but a weakness for water.

As she approached the caves she pushed aside such hilarious thoughts, for her master famously had no sense of humor. Outside his hideaway several hybrids hovered, obviously commanded to stand guard. They bowed their heads to her as they moved away from the cave entry. Inside floated several mortal bodies in various stages of bloat and rot; her master must be keeping the failures to feed to the others.

Fiacail entered the main chamber, where Duxor now floated, his short form wrapped in long ropes of pearls. Since discovering he could send out his hybrids to gather the gems from the oyster reefs he had taken to consuming them until the euphoric effect made him slumber. As he was right now Fiacail could rip out his throat and take charge of the transformed mortals and Cait Sith, and use them for her own purposes.

Do I wish end the game now, or wait until the enchantress sees what became of me?

Sister. Dearg swam into the chamber, followed by Teine. Since being brought back from the brink of death the wee fiend had behaved remarkably sane, as if her transformation had healed more than her injured body. Dinnae think such things.

He shallnae wake, no' for hours yet. Fiacail saw what looked like pity flash over the one-eyed shifter's face and bared her teeth. You reckon me pathetic, Teine? You wish put me out of my misery? Come and try.

I reckon you've endured much alone, Sister. The maimed shifter bowed her head. Forgive me. You didnae deserve the enchantress's cruel treatment.

Pretty words and sentiments shall change naught. She pushed back the cold fury building inside her, and regarded the smaller shifter. You wish save our master, then? He kept you from your end. A pity I dinnae share your affection for him.

Dearg took hold of her, and dragged her along as she swam out of the cave. Teine followed close behind, and only when they had crossed several currents did she stop and release her. As Fiacail shifted into her predatory form the one-eyed shifter put herself between them.

Before he ate the pearls Duxor ordered the others end you if you threatened harm him, Teine said. The mortal hybrids, they all hear your thoughts when you're close to them. They'd attack the moment you decided slay our master.

Reckon you I wish live, then? Bitterness swamped her anger and drowned it. I bowed in shame before Speal today. Shall I do the same with the immortal who made me a monster?

Dearg came and wrapped her arms around her, and then Teine did the same. She didn't wish to be held or cossetted, but as their wordless thoughts flooded into her mind she suffered again the embarrassment as when Speal had reminded her of who the Cait Sith were and would always be.

We're your kin, loyal and true, Teine thought to her. Ever and always, Sister.

I wasnae before the master saved me, Dearg admitted, rubbing her cheek against Fia's. Now I've another chance to prove myself. Permit me do so, Sister, and never again shall you doubt me.

She held onto them for a long time as the shark inside her stopped writhing and seething and went entirely still. On some level she knew she had conquered the ravenous killer, and that it would never again plague her. She also sensed both Dearg and Teine had done the same with their beastly halves. These transformations had changed them in more than form. They had acquired a strange sort of independence and dependence.

We shall return to the caves and await our master's awakening, Fiacail said. If he's yet somewhat pished, all the better. We must convince him go with us and meet Derdrui on Insii Orc. Let the greatest of our miseries face each other, and parlay for what they most desire.

Teine smiled, flashing her shark teeth. If they dinnae slay each other first.

Shaw came into his bed chamber expecting to find it empty, only to discover Julianne standing by the windows. She had dressed in the leine and trews he'd retrieved from her chamber, which Lark had dyed with woad to match the color of the bay shallows. She should wear blue all the time, he thought, his gut knotting. He'd had her only last night and wanted her again, just now, even against the wall if she'd permit.

Julianne's body subtly stiffened as he approached her, but when he placed his hands on her shoulders she turned around and embraced him.

"My lady." All of his notions dwindled away as she lay her head on his chest and linked her hands behind his back. "What bothers you?"

"Besides you leaving me to wake up alone this morning, and why you always try to do stuff by yourself, and how that makes me so sad?" She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. "I have to show you something, only you can't freak out. Promise me."

Shaw already knew what those words meant, thanks to Caroline. "I willnae. Show me." When she began unlacing the bodice of the gown he stopped her hands. "I've looked upon every part of you bare, my merrow lass. If I left marks on you last night–"

"I don't know if you did this. Maybe. Probably." Julianne took hold of his hand and pressed it inside her leine, just beneath her breast.

Shaw smiled, thinking she wished his caress, and then something moved against his fingers. "The fack." He reached for the laces.

"No, it's easier to see if I lie down." She went to the bed and did that as she pulled up the hem. "Remember, you promised. Don't freak out."

From the spot by the window Shaw saw the blackness on her skin, and for a moment could not breathe. Somehow the Pritani spirit had marked her with the same reversed crescent symbol that marred the back of his hand.

"It happened when we made love last night, and then when I woke up this morning it was still there. It hurt a little at first, but now it's just cold and hot at the same time." As he came to her she frowned. "I'm fine. Quit with the scary black eyes."

Without thinking he reached for her with his marked hand, and went still as the beast stirred inside him. It seemed to rumble with a low, growling purr, yet again seemed uninterested in harming or killing Julianne. Instead it also wished to touch her, and poured itself through his arm to pool in his hand, where the ink on his skin seemed to shimmer now.

"Why?" Shaw muttered the word as he pulled back his hand, denying the beast what it wished out of spite. "Why couldnae you permit me one night without your facking corruption ruining another innocent?"

"Hey. The Big Bad didn't do anything wrong. It was those slaver jerks that stuck you two with each other." Julianne sat up, seized his marked hand, and before he could pull free used it to tug him down beside her. "You should stop talking about me like I'm a kid, too, because I'm not. Like the innocent thing? No way. There's tons of stuff you don't know about me. Like, I ate peanut butter crackers in bed all the time. Mom never knew."

As she said that the beast seemed to shrink away from her, as if it feared what she might say. Julianne leaned closer and kissed Shaw's mouth briefly, almost regretfully. Shaw tasted salt, as if tears had dried on his lips.

Or hers. "What wish you of me, my lady?"

"I want you to come with me to another place," she said as she laced up her bodice. "Somewhere we can spend some time together away from the castle and clan and all this depressing stuff. Just you and me and the Big Bad. It'll be fun."

"I cannae take you to the future," Shaw said. "'Tis beyond the power of the Pritani spirit."

She smiled. "Not there, but not here. Let's get off the island for a while."

Blue and green lights drifted up between them, and he tried to wrap his arms around her, but something tore her away from him. Towering oak trees crowded around him, blocking the sight of his bed chamber and then the light of the sun, which shone down only in a few bright yellow beams in the shadowy grove. The soft ground shifted under his weight, but he did not dare try to brace himself against one of the trees.

"It's okay," Julianne called from the murky green darkness to his right. "We got bounced apart when we jumped off the island. I can see you, though. Stay there, I'm coming to you."

A leaf drifted down, making Shaw flinch, and then the slippery moss on which he stood made his feet slide out from under him. He narrowly missed careening into one of the oaks and fell on his back between them. As his hands touched some twigs poking up from the soil, flames sprouted from them.

"Here, I've got you." Julianne appeared over him, yanking him to his feet as she stomped on the tiny flames he'd started. "It's okay now." She gripped his hand in hers.

Although her touch dispelled his mortal weakness, Shaw did not recognize the forest around them. Then two old men in druid robes came out from behind the oaks, their wrinkled faces beaming.

"Our thanks, Mistress," the shorter of the pair said, and bowed. "The grove, 'tis one of the oldest in Scotland. Had your halfling burned the ancient oaks here, 'twould trigger a curse of nine hundred and ninety-nine centuries."

She glowered at the old man. "His name is Chieftain Shaw MacMar, not halfling, and he's already been cursed, thanks so much. Don't you guys have anything better to do than scare people? No, guy," she added when Shaw tried to hush her. "You don't have to kiss their robed butts. Where are we, exactly?"

The old men exchanged a narrow look before the taller one said, "You've come to Jethart in the borderlands, Mistress."

Shaw looked to the south. "What of the Britanni?"

"We've a treaty now, Chieftain," the shorter druid said, folding his hands in his sleeves and smiling benignly. "They dinnae hunt us for sport, and we dinnae cast withering spells on their most precious parts."

"What's the most precious…oh," Julianne said, and snickered. "Good one, druid dude."

Shaw almost laughed along with her, but she suddenly fell silent, swayed and pressed her free hand to her head.

"Whoa," she said, her voice wavering. "Did you use some kind of dizzy spell on me?"

The taller druid made a tsking sound. "You're a mortal, lass. As such you shouldnae carry that woodland enchantment, for you're no' fashioned for bearing up under such power. 'Twill soon bring about your end."

"May we ask sanctuary from your tribe?" Shaw said as he put his arm around her shoulders. "Only for the night, so my lady may rest."

The shorter druid's nostrils flared. "If you vow you shallnae ever again return, aye."

Shaw followed the pair along a badly overgrown path through the woods, keeping Julianne pressed to his side. She began leaning on him heavily by the time they reached a broad clearing where dozens of small cottages with thatched roofs formed a wide circle. Encompassing the settlement was a long, tall fence of white standing stones with carvings that appeared light and airy, as if spirits made of air danced across their smooth faces.

"Your tribe's name?" Shaw asked, unable to look away from the carvings, some of which appeared the same as certain symbols the slavers had inked on his skin.

"We're the DayBridge," the taller druid said, regarding him with a solemn expression. "I believe you've met those we exiled from our tribe. You bear the mark of their dark magic."

Julianne looked up at him. "Don't be afraid of them. I know they're the good kind. We used to be…I think…" She fell against him. "Sorry."

Shaw swung her up into his arms. "Call your healer, druid."

"They're gone, Seneschal," the guard said as Fletcher went into his brother's bed chamber. "Only they didnae leave through the door."

"I ken." He looked around the room for any sign that Shaw had harmed Julianne Scott, or had somehow used his dark magic to take her away from the stronghold unseen. On his skin he could almost sense an enchantment, but not like any he'd ever encountered. When he went over to the bed he saw how the linens had been shifted, and the depression of a small head on one pillow. The surface of the fabric seemed to sparkle here and there. The air smelled of Fae magic, his brother, and oddly, the woods. "Keep your posts, and send for me when they return."

If they return, Fletcher thought as he went to the infirmary.

Duncan had one of the carpenters on his exam table, and was removing a large sliver of wood that had pierced his palm. "I shall attend you shortly."

"Ferran, I need a word with the healer," Fletcher said once his brother had taken out the splinter. "Might you wait a moment for bandaging?" When the carpenter nodded he pulled Duncan out into the passage and closed the door. "Shaw's vanished with Mistress Scott."

"They're lovers now, I'm told." The healer absently rubbed his hand. "Doubtless they shall soon return." He squinted at him. "What more?"

"The air in Shaw's chamber, 'twas rife with Fae magic, and something stranger." He described the shadowy scent of the forest he'd detected, and then added, "Shaw told me she showed a strong aversion when he took her to the Stone Forest. What if Mistress Scott calls a melia màthair ?"

Duncan sighed. "Julianne's no' a halfling like us. I dropped a Fae slumber charm in her hand and she didnae even yawn."

"The melia on the island cursed themselves when our sire died," Fletcher reminded him. "What if their kin sent Mistress Shaw as their means of seeking vengeance?"

Duncan eyed the seneschal. "You reckon such took them a thousand years?"

"Och, dinnae prod me when my brother's gone missing." He dragged a hand through his sun-streaked hair. "Connal's avoiding me, Nyall refuses look me in the eye and even my wife tiptoes round me."

"You forget your temper, Brother. The rest of us dinnae." Duncan cuffed his shoulder. "Wait and watch for Shaw and Mistress Scott. If they dinnae return by nightfall, we shall advise the laird, and begin searching for them." He went back into the infirmary. "Forgive me, Ferran. Permit me wash out that wound, and then I shall apply the healing salve and bandage you."

From there Fletcher went to Lark's work room, but found it empty. Walking about the chamber, he pretended to examine the garments she had pieced together while recalling every vague memory he had of the melia before his sire had died. They had been shy, mysterious creatures, emerging from their trees only when Prince Mar made his way through their forest. Sometimes, when Fletcher had accompanied him, the melia would smile and laugh, and say things that made no sense to him.

Such a grand lad. May he never fall forever.

A great love never ken, a great hate in return.

The unwanted bride shall defeat the unseen bride, all for his sake.

He realized now that some of the nonsensical things the melia had uttered could have been presaging. Before they had cursed themselves and their forest, they might have looked into the future, for when they retreated into their beloved trees the woodland Fae did not exist in any one time, but in all times.

Never follow a melia when she enters the forest world, son, his sire had told him. For if she dies for any reason while you remain inside the tree, you shall never again escape.

"Fletcher, you're starting to scare me," Lark's sweet voice said.

He looked at his wife, who was standing in front of him and holding both of his hands in hers. Her eyes shimmered with a fear he hadn't seen since they had wed.

"Forgive me, my uiseag . My memories blinded me for a time." He pulled her into his arms, as holding her petite, slender body gave him more comfort than anything else in the mortal realm.

"As long as you're seeing me now," she said, hugging him tightly.

Against her bright copper hair he murmured, "Shaw's disappeared with Mistress Scott. Would you come with me to the Stone Forest?"

His wife drew back and frowned. "You think your brother took Julianne back there?"

"I cannae tell you. I only ken I must go there, but I need you with me." When she nodded he bent to kiss her mouth. "Ever and always I need you."

"It's the same for me, my love." Fear still flickered in her eyes, but the expression on her pretty face grew determined. "We've got this. Let's go."

Fletcher stopped at the stables to get a horse and a double saddle, and rode with his wife along the trail leading to the Stone Forest. As soon as they came within sight of the cursed place he noticed again the same scent that had been in Shaw's bed chamber.

"Do you smell that?" Lark asked as he reined in the mare. "It's like the forest is alive again."

"I think 'tis the scent of melia magic." He dismounted and lifted her down to the ground before tethering the horse to a trail post. "Duncan and Nyall came here some days past to hunt a woodland imp. Before it died, it spoke to them through their thoughts, which such creatures cannae do."

"Then maybe it wasn't a woodland imp." Lark took a few steps toward the petrified trees before she glanced back at him. "Fletcher, come here and hold my hand." When he did she twined her fingers through his. "Something seems wrong here, so don't let go of me, okay?"

"Aye, Wife." Discreetly he drew his dagger with his free hand, and held it ready but out of her sight as he walked with her.

A terrible sense of sadness always came over Fletcher when he visited the Stone Forest, as the day the melia had cursed it and themselves had been one of the worst of his young life. After seeing Prince Mar end himself, Shaw had been so out of his mind with grief that Connal had asked Fletcher to take his place during the clan's succession ceremony. He had placed their sire's ring on their older brother's hand, and was the first to pledge his loyalty to the new laird. A moment after he did the skies had turned dark, and dozens of lightning bolts had crashed down in the waters around Caladh. Later Fletcher would learn that a dozen young Finfolk had been badly burned by the terrible strikes.

It had been Shaw, he recalled, who had found all the melia gone, and their forest turned to stone.

Today the fading sunlight scattered through the stone trees, making their glassy trunks gleam, and yet here and there he saw the same faint sparkling that he'd noticed on the bed linens in Shaw's chamber. His impulse was to blame Julianne for everything, for these changes had come only after her arrival on Caladh. Yet she had been proven mortal by Duncan, and as such could not have affected the island or Dun Ard.

"'Tis Shaw," he muttered, and then noticed how closely his wife was watching him. "Dinnae fret, my love. I but wish reckon the source of the enchantment, if 'tis one."

"It's definitely here," Lark told him, tugging him to a stop by an ancient stone willow. She gestured toward the glassy trunk. "Look."

Upon closer scrutiny, what he assumed a layering of the bark instead appeared to be cracks in the surface of the trunk, as if someone had struck it with a hammer. In the very center of the crack a tiny twig with two leaf buds had been placed.

"When the melia cursed this entire forest to turn to stone, they killed everything, didn't they?" his wife asked. When he nodded she frowned at the crack. "Then why is this tree blooming again?"