Doom of the Dragon (32 page)

Skylan judged they had walked more than a mile from the shore when Wulfe suddenly called a halt in a clearing.

“We're here,” he said.

Skylan lifted the lantern to look around. Trees formed a circle around a patch of bare ground covered with dry pine needles. In the center was a ring of mushrooms. Wulfe stepped into the center of the ring.

“Well, hurry up,” he said.

“Oh, Skylan!” Aylaen whispered. “A faery ring!”

She shivered and drew near. Skylan felt cold sweat trickle down his chest. All his life, he had heard the tales of faery rings: traps set by the fae to lure humans into slavery. Once a human stepped into the ring, he would plunge through it to the fae kingdom below and be forced to serve them the rest of his days. Wulfe's own father had been caught in such a trap.

“We are staying here,” said Skylan. “Tell your mother she must come to us.”

He was startled by the sounds of laughter: light, lilting laughter like the tinkling of silver bells.

Wulfe shrugged. “If you want to meet my mother, this is the only way. Leave your swords beneath the trees. Don't worry. No one will touch them.”

Skylan unbuckled his sword belt, wrapped the belt around the sheath, and commending the sword to Torval's care, laid it beneath a tree with a misshapen trunk and covered it over with pine needles. Aylaen took off her sword belt and placed it beside Skylan's. He steeled himself, telling himself he was going to go stand in that mushroom ring with Wulfe, but he couldn't move a muscle.

“I'll go,” said Farinn. “You stay here with Aylaen.”

Before Skylan could stop him, Farinn jumped straight into the middle of the ring of mushrooms. The soft ground gave way beneath his feet and both he and Wulfe disappeared as the ground closed over them.

“Damn it!” Skylan swore. “Farinn!”

There was no answer, but he could hear voices and more laughter coming from down below. He found Aylaen's hand in the darkness, clasped it, and together they stepped into the faery ring.

 

CHAPTER

26

The ground gave way beneath Skylan. Air rushed past him, bright colored lights blurred around him and he had the terrifying sensation of falling a great distance. He was certain he was going to dash out his brains, only to make a tumbling landing onto some soft, cushioned surface. He lay still a moment, too shaken to move, then hurriedly climbed to his feet and looked around.

He had landed on soft green moss that covered the floor of a woodland arbor, lit by tiny twinkling lights flitting among the vines and the leaves. A canopy of trailing morning glory vines draped over the boughs of trees formed the ceiling. The trunks of the trees glowed with foxfire.

He could see eyes watching him from the shadows and sometimes faces—some lovely, some grotesque—that appeared in an instant and vanished the next. Whispering voices rustled around him.

“Aylaen?” he called softly. “Farinn?”

“I am here,” Aylaen whispered, stepping out of the shadows. “But I don't see Farinn.”

“I have him,” said a woman's voice, adding with lilting laughter, “I would tell you that he is safe, but since he is with me, perhaps he is not.”

The twinkling lights and shifting shadows confused Skylan, and he could not see who was speaking.

“Faery folk!” the woman called. “Our prince has come back to us and he has brought guests! Let the celebration begin!”

Small creatures with laughing faces, big ears and stomachs, and spindly little legs came running from the forest. Each carried a giant white lily whose fragrant blossom glowed with bright light. The brownies hung the gleaming lilies from boughs and vines or stuck the stems in the ground, then gathered around Skylan and Aylaen and stared at them, giggling and whispering.

Other fae folk ran into the arbor, dryads and satyrs, fauns and oreads, laughing and calling, while other tiny faeries flew into the arbor on wings like dragonflies. Joining together, the fae folk began to sing and clap their hands.

“All hail our radiant princess!”

A woman walked into the light—or perhaps she was the light—Skylan was so dazzled he could not tell. Silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, falling to her feet. Her eyes, gazing upon him, glittered with starlight. Iridescent wings sprouted from between her shoulder blades, fanning the air gently, wafting the perfume of the lilies through the bower.

The fae bowed down before her, while Skylan stood staring, dumbstruck, unable to move. The woman smiled at him, seemingly amused by his discomfiture.

“Fae folk,” she called in a voice that was like the brushing of harp strings, “I give you our prince, my own dear son, Casimir.”

Reaching into the shadows, she brought forth Wulfe.

The fae folk cheered and bowed. Wulfe wriggled, obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable. His face brightened when he saw Skylan.

“
This
is my mother,” said Wulfe, presenting her proudly. “Her name is Emerenta.”

Turning to the woman, he gestured to Skylan and Aylaen. “Mother, these are the Uglies I was telling you about.”

Wulfe whispered something to his mother, who bent down to hear him, all the while keeping her beautiful eyes on Skylan and Aylaen.

“My son tells me you take good care of him,” said the woman. “Though I do think you should make him bathe more often. What are you called?”

“I am Skylan Ivorson, Lady of the Fae,” said Skylan, his voice sounding gruff as a crow's raucous caw after the woman's musical tones. “My wife, Aylaen Adalbrand.”

“I am honored to meet you, Princess Emerenta,” said Aylaen. “I have never seen anyone so beautiful.”

“Of course you haven't,” said Emerenta languidly. “Silly Uglies!”

The fae folk all laughed heartily. Skylan looked around the crowded arbor, searching for Farinn, and couldn't find him. He was starting to grow worried.

Emerenta was calling for food and drink and the fae began running everywhere, eager to obey her commands.

“Please be seated,” she said.

Skylan saw no table, no chairs, and could only assume she meant the ground. He remained standing.

“Where is my friend Farinn?” he asked, trying to sound stern and severe and ignoring the fact that several of the brownies were untying his bootlaces. “What have you done with him?”

“I told you, Ugly,” said Emerenta. “He is in my care.”

She made a graceful gesture to a bower set amid flowering bushes. Farinn was sitting on a moss-covered log, while several lovely and scantily dressed dryads bound him with daisy chains. He cast a pleading glance at Skylan.

Emerenta regarded the young man with pleasure. “My son says he is a gift, that I may keep him.”

Skylan cast an angry glare at Wulfe. “Your son is wrong, madam! Farinn is—”

“Is but a poor gift,” Aylaen said, stepping in front of him. “Seeing your wondrous beauty, lady, we have a gift that we believe you will like much better.”

Emerenta gave a languorous smile. “Show me this other gift. I will judge.”

Aylaen removed the pouch from her belt. Opening it, she brought out a box made of seashells and decorated with jewels.

“This is a gift from the Queen of the Aquins,” Aylaen said. Caressing the box, she added in a softer voice, “She is dead now, which makes her gift very dear to me. I would like you to have it because of Wulfe. Because Skylan and I have grown very fond of him.”

She smiled at Wulfe, who flushed with pleasure and began digging his toe into the moss.

Emerenta seemed intrigued by the box. She gestured to an attendant. “Fetch it to me.”

Several of the brownies took the box from Aylaen and carried it to Emerenta, offering it to her with many bows and giggles. She opened the box, peered inside, sniffed at it, then looked intently at Aylaen.

“This once held an artifact of powerful magic,” said Emerenta.

“It did, lady,” Aylaen answered in some confusion.

Emerenta handed the box to one of her attendants. “I like this gift. You may have the young man.”

The dryads merrily tore off the daisy chains and Farinn, mortified, slipped over to stand behind Skylan, trying to keep out of sight of the dryads, who were waving at him and blowing him kisses.

Emerenta turned back to Aylaen. “You brought this artifact and more like it with you. I want to see them. My dear son, Casimir, told me—”

Wulfe went red in the face. “Stop calling me Casimir! I told you. My name is Wulfe!”

“But that is such an ugly name, my lovely one,” said Emerenta, running her hand through his curls.

“I don't care. I like it,” Wulfe muttered.

“Whatever my darling boy wants,” said Emerenta with a kiss on the head.

Wulfe squirmed, embarrassed but pleased.

Emerenta turned her smile on Aylaen. “Let me see these artifacts.”

Aylaen glanced at Skylan, who shook his head.

“I am sorry, Princess, but I do not think that would be wise.”

“Wise or not, let me remind you, Ugly Ones, that you are in my domain,” Emerenta said, adding airily, “I have only to say the word to summon a legion of imps who will torment you until you do as I require. As I was about to say, my own dear son told me that you relied on his magic to keep these artifacts safely hidden from the Faceless God.”

“My mother means Aelon,” Wulfe explained. “She says he has no face.”

“I have heard the god called that before,” said Skylan.

“It is a cruel god,” said Emerenta. “A god who has killed many of our people. A god who seeks our destruction.”

“Aelon wants to destroy our people, too,” said Aylaen. “Wulfe was a very great help to me.”

She opened the pouch again and reached inside.

“What are you doing?” Skylan whispered. “You can't show her the spiritbones! What if she steals them?”

“She won't. They are made of metal, Skylan,” said Aylaen.

She took out the spiritbones. The many colored gemstones glittered in the lily lights; the silver and gold work gleamed. The fae folk crept nearer, whispering and murmuring, but keeping their distance.

Emerenta knelt down to examine them.

Skylan tensed, ready to snatch them up, not trusting her. Emerenta passed her hand over them, but she was careful not to touch the metal. She studied the spiritbones, one by one, then lifted her lilac eyes to gaze at Aylaen.

“Each of these bones is a piece of the god and they are a matching set. Did you know that?”

Aylaen paled and cast a quick glance at Skylan.

“I know,” she said softly.

“You are not quite the fool I thought,” Emerenta remarked after a moment.

She turned back to admire the spiritbones.

“You are missing one of the set. I have seen it. The largest and the most beautiful. A god bone set in a helm of gold adorned with diamonds fashioned like a dragon's crest.”

“Where did you see it?” Aylaen asked.

“In the land of the Stormlords.” Emerenta rose gracefully to her feet. “My son says you want me to take you there. You want to steal it.”

“Only as a last resort, lady,” said Skylan. “We have heard that the Stormlords plan to give this sacred relic to Aelon's minion, the Emperor Raegar, who leads a great army against them. The cowards refuse to fight him and they will give him our relic to save their own skins. I am first going to try to reason with them and, if they refuse, then I will do what I must.”

Emerenta gazed at him a moment, and then burst into wild laughter, like the pealing of silvery bells. All the fae in the arbor joined in her merriment, hooting and roaring, some even falling down and rolling around on the ground.

“What is so funny?” Skylan asked.

“You are, Ugly One, though I don't think you mean to be,” said Emerenta. “The Stormlords … cowards…”

She laughed again, wiping her eyes, then waved her hand. “Put the god bones away now so that we may enjoy our meal.”

“Forgive me, lady, but shouldn't we be traveling to Tsa Kerestra, as you promised?” Skylan asked.

“We have all night,” said Emerenta carelessly. “Don't worry. The way is not far. We can be there in the flash of a falling star.”

“She can travel there that fast,” Skylan said dourly to Aylaen. “
She
has wings.”

“Hush,” Aylaen whispered. “We are her guests.”

She hurriedly picked up the spiritbones, tucked them back inside the pouch and once more tied it to her belt.

“What was all that about god bones?” he asked under cover of the noise in the arbor. “Why didn't you tell her she was wrong? They are the bones of the Great Dragon Ilyrion.”

“We'll talk about it later,” said Aylaen.

Emerenta ordered her people to serve the feast. The fae folk carried in pitchers filled with honey wine and water, platters of roasted meat, bowls of fruit and nuts, breads and puddings and sweetmeats.

Emerenta took her place on a throne made of a fallen log covered with moss and peacock feathers and made Wulfe sit beside her. He seemed glad to be with her, though he wriggled when she kissed his cheek, fussed with his hair or tried to feed him.

She invited Skylan and Aylaen to join them, indicating seats on the soft moss.

Skylan politely refused, saying they were not hungry.

“He thinks the food is enchanted,” said Wulfe. “And that if he eats he'll have to stay here with us.”

Emerenta laughed her bell-like laughter. “I shouldn't think the food was enchanted. After all, we steal it from you humans.”

Wulfe explained that all the food, plus the utensils and crockery, came from the kitchens and larders of the Uglies. As near as Skylan could make out, the fae did no work of any kind except for thieving, which they seemed to consider more of a diverting sport than an occupation. Sitting awkwardly among a crowd of other fae folk, Skylan waited to be served, then realized that no one except Emerenta had an individual plate, and she shared this with Wulfe. The fae around him were eating from large, communal platters being handed around seemingly at random.