Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae (6 page)

“Sure,” he said. “I didn’t expect you so soon, or here. I need to stop by my apartment in Canton Dreich first.”

She followed him to the castle, staying a respectful and silent step or two behind. He grabbed a few things from the room he spent little time in, to cover that he’d come to talk to Eilidh. Not that he needed an excuse. Most had gotten used to him being frequently in the queen’s company because of the magic binding them together. Still, he wanted to be careful in front of Ríona.

He heard her gasp when she realised he’d led her straight into the queen’s personal quarters. Eilidh was in the adjoining room, being helped to dress by a bevy of attendants. Griogair leaned in a doorway.

“Hey,” Munro said to the prince. “How’s Tràth?”

“Resting,” Griogair said quietly.

“And Flùranach?”

“The same, I understand.”

“Damn. If there’s anything I can do, say the word,” Munro said.

“Thank you.” Griogair glanced at Ríona, who hovered in the entryway. She bowed in response but said nothing.

“She’s quiet,” Munro whispered.

Griogair gave a quick smile. “Pretty, though, don’t you think? And don’t worry. She’ll do her job well.”

“Who is pretty, my mate?” Eilidh asked as she walked in, trailed by a young faerie woman who tried to adjust a sash on the queen’s dress as she moved.

As soon as Eilidh stepped over the threshold, Ríona dipped into a low curtsy, while Eilidh shooed away the attendant.

“Morning, Eilidh. This is Ríona,” Munro said. “She’s the Andenan translator Griogair found to help me with my research.” He was surprised at the pang of jealousy rumbling through his connection to Eilidh. She was the bloody queen and the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. What could anyone have that she didn’t?

“You’ll be back by morning?” she said lightly, but the bond told him something weighed on her mind.

“I don’t have to leave if you need me. I can put this off.”

She glanced at Griogair. A flicker passed between them that Munro couldn’t interpret. “My mate spoke truly when he said your work may be vital to our kingdom. You must go.”

Why was she speaking so formally?
“I wanted to talk to you about the search…” Munro began.

No
, Eilidh cut him off, her words echoing through his mind.
Speak to no one of the murder.

She sounded angry, and everything about her aura felt tense. He wanted so much to get rid of Griogair and Ríona and take Eilidh into his arms, hold her, and ask what was bothering her. Perhaps she needed to confide her worries and fears.

He was stuck. What option did he have but to go? He couldn’t argue with her or be alone with her, so he had to do what she obviously wanted him to. “You’ll send me a message if you need me?”

“Of course.”

With his back to the door, he met Eilidh’s eyes, placed his hand over his heart, and gave a quick bow.
I love you
, he mouthed.

Her manner softened.
I will miss you
, she sent to him.

Munro and Ríona left on foot. On the way, Munro lost himself in silence as he probed his bond with Eilidh. She was troubled and didn’t send him further mind-speaking messages. She seemed occupied. Between a murdered traitor and her step-son possibly involved with a mysterious illness that had so deeply affected Flùranach, who happened to be the favourite granddaughter of Eilidh’s most trusted advisor, well, things were complicated. The only thing he didn’t understand was why Griogair and Eilidh wanted him out of Caledonia.

Finally approaching the portal that connected Caledonia to the Halls of Mist, they slowed their pace. “You have your token?” Ríona asked.

Munro nodded. Eilidh had given each of the human druids a small disc imbued with her personal magic. The Watchers who surrounded the portal would not stop travellers leaving Caledonia, but anyone might be challenged when they returned. Munro doubted he’d have any difficulty even without the token. Despite being a lowly human, as the bonded druid of the queen, he was pretty famous.

They walked up the steps of the immense round dais toward the blue sphere of light and stepped through. Pleasant tingling brought goose-bumps on Munro’s skin. He no longer had the strong physical reaction to the shift he’d experienced the first time he’d made the journey, but found the ethereal beauty no less a wonder. The Halls of Mist were as different from Caledonia as London was to Munro’s hometown of Perth, Scotland. The faeries here held as much variety as the human races did—even more so, since faeries’ skin sometimes had tinges of blue, green, pink, or brown. Each kingdom had fashions and some customs that varied as well, although most faeries were the typical aloof and quiet types. Just once, Munro wanted to meet a raucous and bawdy faerie.

He smiled as he imagined what that would look like, but then froze. His connection with Eilidh had dulled to an unexpected and uncomfortable degree. She felt like a memory nestled in his thoughts. It was possible she’d shut the connection voluntarily, but that he’d just passed through the portal was too much a coincidence for him to think she’d done this. He realised they’d always been together when passing through the portal before, so neither of them had anticipated the disruption.

“What’s wrong?” Ríona asked.

He shook his head. He didn’t want to let on. “It’s always a bit of a shock. The magic is thicker here,” he said. “Humans feel it strongly.”

“Have you been to the Halls of Mist before?”

“Eilidh and I have visited three or four times since she became queen and once before.”

“You should call her by her title,” Ríona said and glanced up, looking worried. “If I’m presuming too much, forgive me, druid, but the fae expect queens to be spoken of with more reverence.”

Munro chuckled. “The fae can stick it up their arses.”

“Stick…”

“I met Eilidh as an outcast. I found her on the streets.”

“But…”

“Ríona, I understand what you’re saying, and I appreciate your good intentions, but Eilidh knows how much I respect her. So does Griogair. So does everyone who matters to me. I go along with the formalities when it’s required, but this is just you and me. If you’re going to help me, you need to accept one fact. Do that, and we’ll get along just fine.”

“What fact is that?” she asked, eyeing him.

“I’m human.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, you know, but you don’t understand yet.”

“Apparently, it means you’re strong willed,” she said, finally allowing herself a small smile.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” He looked around the immense courtyard. Dozens of bridges extended outward in perfect alignment. At the end of each bridge, a huge, clear dome contained a Hall for a different faerie kingdom. He glanced toward the Caledonian Hall, then back at Ríona. “So where’s this library?”

“Come. This way.”

On none of his previous visits had Munro even noticed the small, unassuming structure in the far side of the courtyard. It was scarcely larger than a neighbourhood quick-stop shop, not that the Otherworld had such things. As they approached, he saw runes carved into the smooth grey stone on either side of the entrance.

The blue moonlight in the courtyard reflected on the fog hanging under the Hall bridges. Licks of mist crept inward at the edges. “What do these say?” Munro asked, gesturing to the supports.

“Fae runes are difficult to explain to someone who doesn’t listen,” she said.

“When have I not listened to you?” he asked, perturbed at the assumption he couldn’t possibly learn something as complicated as
reading
.

Ríona paused, as though gathering herself. “Forgive me. You misunderstood. I didn’t intend to suggest you haven’t listened
to me
. I meant you cannot listen to the runes. The understanding comes in the magic of our blood, not the memorisation of lines and shapes. Come. I will explain as we work.”

Inside the entry, Munro followed Ríona down a flight of narrow, steep, stone steps. He flushed with vertigo as they turned corners. They were now completely surrounded by fog. Somehow, it stayed back from the steps, allowing him to find his footing, and the azure moonlight filtered through enough to reveal the step below.

“Where have you seen runes before?” she asked.

Munro had to think. “On the Otherworld gates,” he said. “Eilidh has a small box with a single rune on the lid.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the token Eilidh had given him to identify himself. “This,” he said, and held it up for Ríona. He realised for the first time he rarely saw runes. “I saw a stone relic once with runes carved into it.” He shuddered as he thought about the object of power which had nearly been the cause of his death. A blood faerie had discovered how to feed its magic with the preserved hearts of druids. Three druids had died because of it, including his cousin Frankie.

The pair stopped at a platform deep below the courtyard. Huge double doors towered over them. Ríona gestured at Munro’s pocket. “Show me the token again?”

He held it up.

“Do you understand what the rune says?”

He placed the coin-like object in his left palm and traced a finger over the rune. “No. It seems familiar, if you get what I mean, but maybe that’s just because I’ve seen it so many times.”

Ríona raised an angular eyebrow. “The rune means this,” she said, and held out her hand, letting a ball of light fill her palm, golden sparks shimmering from within. “It means
eilidh
, in the word’s oldest form.”

“Her name means
light
?” he asked.

“No. Light can be anything, a candle, a sunrise, a reflection. Eilidh is
this
.” She moved her fingers and let the light grow.

“So fae language is complex, is what you’re saying.”

Ríona chuckled and shook her head, letting the glow in her palm disappear. She pushed on the large doors, which opened easily. “No. Fae runes are simple, but you have to know them. How can you identify the rune for
eilidh
if you’ve never seen such a light? You asked what the runes on the doors meant. They translate as
knowledge
, but to imply their significance as simply
knowledge
is for me to describe what is in my mind with the word
thoughts
.”

“How do you learn to read, then?”

“We don’t,” she said with a smile. “Come. Let us meet the keepers.”

Munro was disappointed in the library itself. He had expected what any human would: stack after stack of books. He thought he would browse the shelves, which would be separated by topic, catalogued, filed, and organised. Instead, the bare room contained smooth waist-high black pillars with flat, round stones on them. On each stone was carved a rune. In the back of the room seemed to be a row of dark archways. “Can I poke around?” he asked.

Ríona shrugged. “The keepers will be with us shortly.”

He couldn’t see or hear anyone else in the crypt-like chamber. He stepped up and peered at a display. “How many runes are there?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I can translate around fifty thousand, the keepers a hundred thousand or more. We discover new ones the deeper we go into the vaults.”

“You mean there are books here no one has read before?”

“Books, yes, but mostly other things.” She smiled, her wide-set eyes settling on him as they might a child, but even a fae child would understand. “Runes are sometimes discovered all over the world. After the scholars of a kingdom have studied the artefact, they bring it here if they believe doing so will add to the knowledge of the race. Usually, if they cannot decipher the meaning, they present the object to the keepers. Most ancient runic artefacts will come to the library at one time or another. The most relevant are kept here so they can be made available to all scholars.”

Munro turned when a door opened in the shadows on the far side of the room. A bent elder faerie shuffled out. He had to be the oldest faerie Munro had ever seen. Oron, who was over a thousand years old and one of the eldest in Caledonia, looked like a teenager compared to this elder. When the keeper finally came and stood with Ríona and Munro, he straightened his back and looked Munro in the eyes.

Ríona said, “This is Keeper Oszlár.”

A strange scent wafted into the chamber. Munro felt light-headed. “Have we met?” he asked.

“No,” the keeper replied. “I would remember if we had.” He inclined his head to Munro. “You are the bonded druid of the Caledonian queen?”

“Quinton Munro,” he said, trying to shake off the strange giddiness.

“Her request was unusual,” Oszlár muttered.

Munro chuckled. “This isn’t run-of-the-mill for me either. I’m confused though. I sort of expected books.”

The keeper’s laugh sounded like the scratch of pen against paper. “Oh, we possess books, but they will hold little of interest.” He turned to Ríona. “Druidic lore?”

She nodded in reply. “Yes, I thought perhaps we’d start in the five hundred range.”

The keeper shook his head. “Further, I’d say. Twelve.”

Ríona frowned, and Munro noticed again how pretty she was when she did so. “So deep? To begin?”

The keeper shrugged. “That’s where I would go first.”

She gave a slight bow. “Thank you, keeper.”

She led Munro through a rear door, and they left the keeper behind. Even as they walked away, Munro could feel the old faerie’s eyes following them.

Ten minutes later, they were still walking. Ríona’s soft footfalls barely made a whish against the smooth floor, but Munro’s clomping steps echoed. They’d passed many open archways, and Munro peered into the rooms as they continued. The early rooms had more rune stones on pillars. The stones came in different shapes and sizes, and as they went on, he noticed groupings of stones or an arrangement of runes on a larger surface. Occasionally, he’d see a faerie in one of the small chambers with a rune stone, studying in rapt silence.

They had taken several turns, and Munro decided he’d never be able to find his way out alone. He liked to think he had a good sense of direction, which had certainly improved with the physical changes he’d undergone since bonding with Eilidh. But this maze had no discernible markings in it. At first he tried to remember the passageway turns, mark the way by the different types of runes inside the chambers, but after a while, he gave up.