Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

A s soon as the Cait Sith dropped anchor off the shore of Insii Orc, Speal scanned the shoreline for the rotting bodies of mortals or her sisters, but saw none. Smoke rose from some chimneys in the tiny town just beyond the empty docks, and she could smell chicken roasting in the air.

"'Tis a good sign, aye?" Mace asked as she joined her in the skiff before their sisters lowered them over the side. "If our sovereign lost her temper, 'twould be carnage strewn everywhere."

"Carry you a blade?" Speal asked, and when the other shifter produced a long dagger she sighed. "Leave that in the boat. Say naught when we're in her presence. You recall how Fia taught you?"

Mace paled but nodded. "Make no sound, and admire the ground. Only if the enchantress slays you, what then?"

"Should our sovereign be that angry, 'twill take but a moment for you come join me in oblivion," she assured her, taking up the oars to row.

A short time later Speal walked with Mace toward the old inn in town. Here and there she saw doors kicked in and torches that had been dropped to burn out in the dirt. One of the taverns sported scorch marks around its windows, suggesting it had been put to flame. It was only when she saw some gaping heads dangling from the second-level windows by their fair hair, their severed necks still dripping, did she realize what had happened in their absence.

"Ah, the fat fishwife and her sullen servant arrive to admire my new ornaments," a voice said, slurring the words a little.

Speal looked over at the open door of the inn, where the enchantress stood naked. Blood and gore streaked her magnificent body, dried and caked enough to suggest she had been in this state for some hours. She staggered toward them, nearly tripping over the too-large boots she wore, from which the soles had been burned off. Mace tried not to gape at her, but when Derdrui collapsed directly in front of her she caught her in her arms.

"She's killed too many, and 'tis pished her," Speal said, keeping her disgust out of her voice. "Take her upstairs and put her to bed."

Only after Mace disappeared inside with the enchantress did the other Cait Sith come out of hiding. They looked exhausted and half-starved, but after making their greetings they gathered around Speal and waited.

She kept her thoughts schooled and made several gestures of reassurance before she asked, "How did she find so many mortals? Did they hide themselves somewhere on the island?"

"No, Sister. They're Norseman, come to raid last night." The shifter glanced up at the severed heads dangling from the windows. "Six longboats of twenty or more. She set five of their boats aflame and took the heads from the raiders attempting stop her. One longboat hid for the night on the far side of the island. We saw them sail out at dawn. The rest, she hunted like rats."

"Did any escape her?" When the shifters shook their heads she smiled. "I'm happy you're alive. After you eat and bathe, take the skiff I left at the dock and ferry provisions for our sisters. We shall set sail as soon as we may for the mainland."

One of the windows opened, and Mace looked down at them, blood trickling from her newly-split lip. "Speal, our sovereign wishes speak with you on why we returned empty-handed."

She hurried upstairs to what appeared to be the bed chamber of a murdering princess gone mad. Precious silks shimmered in the sunlight where they hung from various hooks, their blood-soaked ends suggesting they'd been used as bonds. Long ropes of pearls glowed white in pools of various fluids on the floor. Dozens of swords and daggers had been piled atop a table beside a smaller heap of blood-stained braids in every color of golden hair grown by mortals, likely saved as kill tallies. The enchantress always enjoy knowing how many had died at her hands.

So many mortals had been slain in the chamber, the thick stench of their deaths nearly drove Speal back out into the hall, but the sight of their sovereign in such a state gave her pause.

On the box bed lay two fresh, headless corpses. Both bodies bore the wounds of those who had been slain by slow torture, and yet had been bathed and dressed in new garments. Between them reclined the enchantress, as naked and filthy as before, save for her face, which she had wiped clean. Speal could not tell if what danced in her dark eyes could be called glee or insanity.

"Do you like my lads?" Derdrui asked, snuggling the cadavers against her sides like favored pets. "They lasted the longest of them all. I placed their heads on the mantel there, as tribute to their endurance."

She eyed the gruesome trophies above the hearth. "'Tis all you've done, chasing and killing mortals?"

"There were so, so many who came to give themselves to me. They brought their slaves as offerings as well. I have not seen such a proper tribute since my rule over the Therion in Elphyne. Do you know how long it's been since I could actually bathe in the blood of mortals?" She looked up, and her smile faded. "You've been gone for weeks now. I do not understand you, fishwife. You certainly had enough time to find the sons of Mar, and yet you return with nothing for me. I believe once I've rested I shall kill you and all your worthless sisters."

"I found Fiacail, who survived Dearg's attack. She's been transformed by an immortal merrow called Duxor. Her new master can locate the clan's island, so I agreed arrange a meeting between you." She saw that she had the enchantress's full attention now, and turned away. "Only you desire more death, so such matters naught."

The enchantress climbed off the bed. "If you lie to me now, I shall never allow you to die, you fat slut."

Before they had begun this quest to find the MacMar Clan, Speal never would have stood before Derdrui's wrath. Like all the other Cait Sith, she would have groveled and begged forgiveness, terrified of what the Therion Princess might do to her. Now seeing their sovereign in such a state, her drunkenness and murderous rage seemed more like one of Dearg's petulant tantrums. Perhaps that was why when the enchantress reached for her, Speal raised her own hand and slapped Derdrui with all her strength.

"Five of my sisters died in pursuit of the MacMar Clan while you toyed with your Norsemen," Speal shouted, shoving the stunned Fae back onto the charnal pit of her bed. "The MacMar command a beast of dark magic that cut through us as a dark scythe. 'Twas only by chance the rest of us escaped that thing."

The enchantress stared at her as if she'd never before beheld her.

Doubtless she would die for what she'd done, if not now then later, but Speal could not bear to scrape and bow before this cruel bitch for another moment. "Once you parlay with Duxor for the location of Caladh, we shall take you there so you may seek your vengeance. That shall fulfill our oath of loyalty to you for all time. Do you understand me now?"

Derdrui smiled as if she'd pleased her. "Yes, perhaps it is time we parted ways. Where shall we meet Fiacail and her merrow savior?"

Shaw caught Julianne as she collapsed in front of him, and tried to wake her as he scanned the strange place around them. The low, long wooden building looked nothing like any dwelling he'd ever beheld. The male standing in the doorless entry and looking out at him had a bald head, golden-brown skin and long, narrow blue-green eyes. While his expression appeared placid, and he had the look of a man in his prime, something about him seemed very old and powerful.

"My lady, please awake," he muttered, rubbing his lover's back.

"Your mate shall not stir for some time, honored guest," the man said in the language of Shaw's sire. "Using her power too many times in a single day is dangerous for her. Shall you bring her inside so she may rest? We have a room prepared for you both."

Shaw waited for the beast to demand the man's head, but it remained still and silent inside him. In Fae he said, "We share no bloodline. Why should I trust you?"

"Forgive me, I shall explain. As my given name may not be spoken by anyone outside our order, you may address me as monk." The man bowed. "My brothers and I vowed to Prince Mar that we should never harm any of his sons, but help them should they find their way to the Temple of the Eternal Forest here in Nifon."

Julianne made a whimpering sound, and Shaw lifted her into his arms. "If you lie, monk, I shall make your temple your funeral pyre."

He nodded and gestured for him to follow as he went inside.

The interior of the temple consisted of bare walls, little furnishings and mats of reeds. The walls, which appeared to be fashioned of thin parchment stretched over squares of black-painted wood, held a few scrolls with Fae writing on them in gold. Shaw recognized some of the spells on the scrolls, which appeared to be mostly benign. Since nearly everything in the place had been fashioned from wood he would have to keep his hands on Julianne to keep from carrying out his threat.

"I shall bring water, food and clean robes for you to wear," the monk told him as he stopped in front of an open door. "Please rest in this room."

Shaw inspected the interior before he carried Julianne inside. The monk slid a panel of the parchment covered wood over the doorway, giving them some privacy. Carefully he knelt down on one of the long reed mats and placed his lady on her back. When he saw beads of sweat frozen on her brow and upper lip he gently brushed them away, and grew shocked at how cold her skin had grown.

"My lady." As her golden eyelashes fluttered he stretched out beside her, hoping to warm her with his own body's heat. "Can you hear me?"

"Mmmmm." She shifted closer, winding her arms around his waist. "You smell good."

"Shall you wake for me?" he murmured, kissing her brow. "For we cannae return without your boon."

She blinked a few times before she was able to focus on his face. "Hey. I don't want to go back to that druid settlement. Those people are going to die soon."

If the DayBridge had sickness among them, then Julianne could suffer the same fate. "You ken what shall end them?"

"They're all going to drown when the valley floods after a big storm in a few days." She yawned into her palm. "I saw it when the green fairy lady showed me through the window tree."

Now she was making no sense at all, which made him touch her brow to check her for fever. "Do you ken this place, my merrow lass?"

Julianne sat up just as the parchment screen opened, and the monk entered carrying a tray of food and drink. Two others followed him with folded garments and odd-looking slippers in their hands, which they set down and bowed over before they retreated.

"Good morning, Mistress," the monk said in English. "Welcome to the Temple of the Eternal Forest."

"Hi." Julianne leaned closer to Shaw, and whispered, "Why are we in Japan?"

"You brought us here, my lady." Shaw kept his gaze locked on the monk, who had knelt down and seemed to be fretting over the food. "I've never seen the like of these men, and yet I ken them."

"That is because this is not your first visit to our temple," the monk chided. "We have welcomed you both many, many times since your first incarnations. It seems fate brings you to us so we may help you understand what your destiny requires of you." His gaze shifted to Julianne as he placed a broken chain with a gold heart-shaped pendant on the mat in front of her. "This was found where you and the chieftain appeared. A gift from your sensei , I believe."

Julianne snatched up the necklace and got to her feet, and then swayed and pressed a hand to her brow. "Maybe this time it will be different. My head hurts. What's a sensei ?"

Shaw rose, only to catch her as she swooned again. When he lay her down on the mat she remained limp and unconscious, and he eyed the monk.

"You need tell me everything you ken of my lady and me," he said.

"I may only speak to you of what I know of your life, Chieftain," the monk said. "Just as I may only speak to your mate of what I know of hers. She may be correct in that we are meddling, to a degree, but we will not alter your course. We keep the histories of those bonded for eternity, as you and your mate have done."

"So you say naught of the present or future, then?" As the monk nodded Shaw wished he had something he could strike, but anything he touched would catch fire unless he kept holding his lady's hand. "Then tell me what you may."

"I may reveal what you never knew, but that cannot harm you to know," the monk said, his expression sympathetic now. "Your father saw you watching him from your hiding place before he ended his life, just as he knew your brother Fletcher watched from the tower. He smiled at you because he knew what you would soon endure at the hands of the NightRiver, and he wished you to have one final good memory of him."

"My last remembrance of my sire, 'twas seeing his flesh tear itself asunder in the waves and leave naught but churning, bloody foam," he said, furious now. "If he knew what I'd soon face, why didnae he warn me?"

"It is your fate to be possessed by the dark one," the man said softly. "It has come to you in one form or another in every one of your lives, for you are the only being in the mortal realm who may possess it as well."

"I possess the facking thing?" He uttered a short, bitter laugh. "Aye, right. You're as mad as the beast."

"The woman shall sleep for some hours. I shall take you to where you may see the proof of my claims." The monk drew from his sleeves a pair of gloves made from plates of stone etched with Fae charms. "You must wear these, for aside from your mate only they may null your fire touch." When he made no move to take them the monk sighed. "We cannot slay you and your woman, Chieftain. The dark one would never permit any harm to come to either of you."

That he did believe, Shaw thought, and reluctantly took the stone gloves from him. "You say the lass and I, we're bonded for eternity. Why should such a fate befall us?"

The monk's lips curved. "It did not befall you, Chieftain MacMar. You both chose to walk this path, and your woman brought you to us so you could learn why."

Meg reined in the little mare pulling her work cart, and climbed down from her seat to hobble the horse. Turning and facing the back gate of Dun Ard seemed harder than driving across the island. Returning to the MacMar stronghold had not been her choice, but she could not ignore the message sent by the laird's wife. She walked up and nodded to the men standing guard, who raised the portcullis to allow her inside.

Valerie came hurrying from the gardens to meet her. "Thank you for coming. I know this is the last place you want to be, but we can't risk making this common knowledge."

"My lady. Ever I'm happy to see you." She curtseyed before she smiled at the laird's wife. "Shall we go in and discuss such over a mug of brew, then?"

"I'd rather not talk where any of the maids can overhear us. You know how they gossip." Valerie grimaced. "Would you mind walking down by the bay with me?"

Down by the bay, where the stink of the sea would fill her nostrils, Meg thought, and she would appear in sight of the Selseus underwater settlement. Doubtless Merrick would recognize her the moment he saw the ugly copper shine of her red hair in the sun. Returning to her former home might be unpleasant, but straying within reach of the Finfolk king was pure madness.

"Of course, my lady," Meg said, feigning serenity when all she wished do was scream and run across the island.

From the back gate she escorted the laird's wife to the cliffs and down the stone steps to the curving shore, where the midday light sparkled on the lovely turquoise water of the shallows. Some local fishermen had sailed out to skirt the mist barrier, where they cast their nets and lines, and she could see Caroline Parish wading out of the water onto the sand of the little islet where she lived, her gathering bag bulging with abalone. For a brief moment she wished she could love such a vision as the bay provided, but when she saw the sea she only recalled the white, still faces of her wee drowned sisters.

Keeping back from the foam-edged waves, Meg regarded Valerie. "How may I serve then, my lady?"

"Have you seen Chieftain Shaw over the last two days?" When she shook her head the laird's wife's lips thinned for a moment. "What about a very tall blonde woman? Her name is Julianne Scott, and she came to Caladh from the future."

"Naught of either, nor heard any word of them." She took the older woman's cold hands between hers. "You ken Shaw oft goes wandering, my lady. Mayhap 'tis what he's done again, and taken the lady with him."

"Something's wrong this time. I know it in my bones," Valerie said. "Julianne, the woman who just arrived–"

Before she could finish what she was saying, a strange splashing sound came from the water, and Meg turned her head to see several large, long fish jumping up into the air as if trying to leap onto the sand where they stood. All the hair on her neck stood up when she saw they had the faces of mortal bairns, and then they opened their mouths and began screeching as human arms and legs sprouted from their fish bodies.

"Run, my lady," she said as she drew her dagger and stepped between the laird's wife and the bizarre creatures. "Send your guards down. Hurry, now."

The first creature to reach her, a mortal-faced fish the length of her forearm, tried to climb up her skirts and snapped at the sleeve of her bodice with sharp, jagged teeth. She used her blade to skewer it in the belly. It fell to the sand and flopped feebly before it went still. The other altered fish stopped, standing in the surf as they stared at the one Meg had slain.

If they came at me as one, they shall tear me apart.

Something larger came through the shallows, but as Meg planted her heels and readied herself for a second attack she saw the golden hair and broad shoulders of a Finfolk male. Then Merrick surfaced, and used a curved blade to slice through half of the murderous creatures. A pool of their blood bloomed on the surf, turning the froth pink, and those that remained alive turned and lunged for the king.

"Run for the stronghold, you eejit wench," Merrick shouted at her as he fought off the altered fish.

Meg waded into the water and used her blade to stab the creatures from behind as the Finfolk king hacked them apart from the front. Caught between their blades, the altered fish tried to jump clear, only to fall in pieces as Merrick swung his blade with swift, lethal precision. After a few minutes all that remained of the creatures floated lifeless on the waves.

The king seized her, his hands cruelly tight as he dragged her from the shallows and shoved her onto the sand. Meg managed to stay on her feet by tottering away, and sheathed her dagger before she took hold of her skirts to wring the sea water out of them.

"You despise me so much you'd feed those abominations your flesh?" the king demanded as he loomed over her.

So that she wouldn't be tempted to draw her dagger again and bury it in his cold heart, Meg turned and walked up toward the dunes, only to be yanked back and spun around to face the one she loved. He appeared ready to use his sword on her, so he still cared. She wondered if it would have been less painful simply to let those grotesque bairn-faced fish devour her.

"Perhaps the next time, Fish King." She glanced over at the cliff stairs, where a dozen heavily-armed MacMar were descending. "Forgive me, but I'm wanted by Lady Valerie."

"Fack the lady and her husband and their clan." Merrick picked her up off her feet and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of oats.

From the bay shore he stalked up the trail toward the pool where Nyall MacMar and Jamaran sometimes met. When he reached it he dumped her on the embankment and dove into the cool, shaded waters.

With trembling hands Meg gathered her hair, which had come loose from the tidy braid she'd woven before setting off this morning. For a moment she began weaving it again before she stopped and shook the rest of it out so that it curtained her shoulders. Merrick hated the sight of it, as his fish people believed red-haired females to be bad luck or cursed or some such. Flaunting what kept them apart seemed spiteful, but she was in no mood to indulge his preferences.

The king surfaced, flinging back his golden hair before hoisting himself out of the pool and sitting on the mossy bank beside her. He wouldn't look at her, and she refused to ogle him, so they sat there for a long time watching the undulating waters.

"I missed you, Margret," he finally said.

Meg let herself smirk; he never could hold out for long. "So you did. What call you those horrid things that attacked me and our lady?"

"I dinnae ken. Never I've seen such in our waters." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Their blood didnae taste of transformation, so no Selseus made them."

Meg had some idea of what he meant. The Finfolk could use their magic to change mortals into their own kind, but they only used it on adult females capable of bearing bairns. "Can your people change mortals into fish now?"

He shook his head. "Something spawned those creatures. Something that possesses the power of transformation, but no' like ours, and they're no' fish. They're shark pups." He stood and reached down to help her to her feet.

She should never have touched him, Meg thought as she rose and allowed him to gather her closer, his strong arms folding around her thin frame as if she were some missing part of his body and he meant to press her back in place. Against her skirts pressed the long ridge of his shaft, thick and hard for her. Imagining what he would do to her with it thrilled her; she wanted to caress it with her fingers and lips and tongue. If only he would put it inside her where the awful, endless ache for him continued to pulse, and fill that emptiness until she overflowed with him.

"Dinnae," she murmured as he bent his head to hers. "If you kiss me again I'll put my dagger in your heart."

"If I dinnae kiss you, I'll die," he muttered as he jerked up her chin and looked into her eyes. "If you dinnae come to me, I'll die. If you dinnae permit me change you, I'll die. If you dinnae love me, I'll die." He touched his brow to hers. "Since you left I've no more reason for living, Margret. I cannae bear the loneliness."

Something hard inside her chest shattered, and she wound her arms around him, clutching him tightly.

"Ever and always I shall love you, Merrick." She pressed her cheek to his. "But if you kiss me, I'll never leave you again—and well you ken that, 'twill end me."

Slowly he released her, and put enough distance between them not to risk any further contact. "Why came you here, then?"

"Shaw and a tall blonde female from the future, they've gone missing." She repeated what Valerie had told her, and then said, "'Tisnae the first time the chieftain's gone off on his own. Why should my lady fret over such?"

His expression grew shuttered. "Ask your lady. I must go." He turned away, his back rigid now.

"Merrick–" Meg reached out to him, but the king dove into the cove's waters, and vanished.