The Book of Dreams (59 page)

Their throats gorged with terror.

Head back on his shoulders, the parade abandoned, the Dullahan was gaining on them fast.

Linking arms with Dana, the aunts took to the air. But they hadn’t enough practice. Before they could go beyond his reach, the horseman bore down on them.

With quick sharp blows, he knocked the aunts to the ground. Then he grabbed hold of Dana, pulling her onto his horse. She kicked wildly to fend him off, but his grip was like iron. The horse sped down the street, away from Dee and Yvonne.

Though they had cried out in pain as they struck the pavement, the aunts scrambled to their feet. With sheer will and resolve, they steadied their wings and took to the air again. Now they flew after the horseman like harpies.

Distracted by Dana’s struggling, the Dullahan was caught off guard by the rear attack. Dee landed a swift kick in midair that sent his head rolling. Yvonne reached out for Dana and plucked her from the horse.

“Shortcut nearby!” Yvonne hissed to Dana as they fled.

Half-running, half-flying, the three ducked down the narrow lane that led directly to the graveyard. But when they came out at the other end, their hearts sank.

There in front of the cemetery gates stood horse and rider. The Dullahan’s eyes blazed as he watched the road.

“There’s no other way in,” Dee said with a little moan as she fought to catch her breath.

The three huddled in the shadows.

“We’ll have to fight our way past him,” Dana told them. She was already rubbing her hands to make a fireball.

Shouts rang out from the street. Two lithe figures raced into sight. With shining swords drawn, they charged at the Dullahan.

“Hey, it’s the Fair Folk,” Dee said, with approval, “arriving like the cavalry.”

“Class act,” Yvonne agreed. “They’re off my hit list.”

The horseman charged away without stopping to fight.

Dana and her aunts raced across the road.

“Didn’t expect to see you two again,” said Dee with a grin.

“Not that we’re not glad,” Yvonne added.

Findabhair grinned back. “Let’s just say the royal bollocking was effective. Tough talk can work sometimes. You’re both looking gorgeous, I might add.”

“Fairy glamour,” Yvonne said airily.

“Admiration’s mutual,” was Dee’s comment.

Both Findabhair and Finvarra were dressed in black with silver chain mail, helmets, and swords. Both glittered like stars in the night.

Neither Finvarra nor Dana had spoken. They stared at each other. Blood called to blood, as they acknowledged their kinship. In the formal manner of Faerie
courteisie
, Finvarra bowed to her.

“Greetings, Light-Bearer’s Daughter. We are well met. Late is the hour that I come to thee, yet I would place my sword at thy command if thou wilt receive it.”

Dana bowed her head in turn. She had spent enough time in Faerie to know the protocol.

“I am more than honored to be served by a High King. Let it always be the time of your own choosing, Sire.”

“No more a High King,” Finvarra said with a wry shake of his head, “but a mortal who is prepared to die in your cause.”

“Once a king in Faerie,” Dana said quietly, “always a king.”

“We must go,” said Findabhair, looking around.

“To Magh Croí Mor,” Finvarra said, nodding. “The Plain of the Great Heart.”

As they stepped through the iron gates of the graveyard, Dee sang under her breath.

Gloomy gloomy was the night

And eerie was the way …

“Would you stop with the Tam Lin already,” Yvonne hissed.

“I love that song. Besides, it’s very appropriate. Music heightens the atmosphere in an action scene.”

“This is not a movie!”

Seconds later, the two stopped dead in their tracks.

The cemetery was gone.

In the twilight of the Eve of All Hallows, in the crossing of time and the collision of worlds, Magh Croí Mor, the Plain of the Great Heart, had descended upon the site. An immense level plain of moonlit grass, it was surrounded on all sides by primeval forest. A bluish mist whispered over the ground. Yet it wasn’t the plain itself that shocked them, but the sight of the great megalith that brooded there.

Stone upon stone it stood, a massive dolmen, two colossal standing stones with a giant capstone overhead. Stark and silent, it arched against the sky, dwarfing the muted shapes and shadows around it. Though fashioned of granite, it gleamed with a dark metallic sheen that reinforced the impression that it was a gigantic gateway.

“It looks so near,” Dana said softly. “A quick run across the field.”

“Before this night is done,” Finvarra said gravely, “this space will be a battlefield. Come. We must join our friends before we are joined by our enemies.”

They hurried into the ancient woods that bordered the plain. When they arrived at the rath of the Creemore fairies, Dana found it utterly changed. No longer a secluded clearing, it was the stronghold of an army.

Stretching away into the distance, crowding the great forest, were tents and leafy shelters on the ground and in the trees. Stores of arms were piled in gleaming heaps of swords, spears, shields, and axes. A great assembly had gathered there, with more troops arriving every minute. Heralds rushed from tent to tent. Parleys were called and meetings held, as the various leaders debated the battle plan.

• • •

Findabhair let out a cry when she spotted Gwen outside a pavilion. The cousins ran to greet each other with tearful hugs.

“I was so afraid you were dead!” Findabhair said. “I only heard the good news a short while ago.”

“I’m over the moon you’ve come,” Gwen cried. “What do you think of the fairies? Here all the time and we never knew!”

“Finvarra did,” said her cousin. “Of course they all disappeared over a century ago and he had completely forgotten about them. Why is it that fairies are always going missing and no one seems to notice?”

“They’re not like us,” Gwen sighed.

“Tell me about it,” said Findabhair, her eyebrows raised. Then she added warmly, “And I was glad to hear Dara and the others are well too. I only wish they could be here.”

Gwen agreed heartily. “We could do with the Company of Seven right now.”

• • •

Even as the cousins chatted, another reunion was taking place. The fairies of Clan Creemore were clustered around Finvarra, kissing his hand and murmuring their affection. As more of the troops caught sight of him, they swelled the throng. The last time all of them had been in Faerie, he was their High King.

Daisy Greenleaf threw her arms around him.

“Sire, your people are overjoyed to see you again!”

As the warmth of their welcome touched Finvarra’s heart, the bitter years of his exile fell away like withered leaves.

“I am no longer your king, dear hearts,” he told them gently. “No longer immortal.”

“Whatever you be, our regard for you will never lessen,” said Daisy. “We got the story from Gwen,” she added with a grin. “It’s a good one. Losing all for love—of that we approve!”

Finvarra let out a laugh. “Ever the romantic, dear Daisy. Are you still with that mad Midsummer Moon?”

“He’s called ‘Stanley Moon’ now. Some of the others have changed their names too. In keeping with the new land. And, yes, we’re still a couple. He still makes me laugh.”

Finvarra grinned. “That’s two millennia now? And your own troop as well, I see. Well done. You’ve kept the fairy faith.”

Daisy shook her head. “I share the captaincy with Alf Branch, the one you knew as
Craoibhín Ruadh
. We got voted in. It’s called democracy.”

• • •

Hovering on the sidelines, Yvonne and Dee were drinking in the scene with wide-eyed enchantment. It was as if every fantasy they had ever read had come to life around them! At the same time, they felt a little awkward and out of place.

Till the clans of British Columbia arrived.

The B.C. fairies were huge, the same height as the great trees in which they dwelled – the giant red cedar, Douglas fir, and western hemlock. Beside them strode their furry neighbors, the Sasquatch Nation. All shyness cast aside, the Bigfoot were armed to the teeth and fearsome.

“Hey, it’s our heroes!” Dee said suddenly.

There in the troop from the West were the two young men who had come to their aid in Vancouver. No longer clad in T-shirts and denim, they wore hide leggings and forest-green cloaks. Swords fell at their sides, quivers of arrows hung at their backs, and they carried tall bows slung over their shoulders. At first they appeared gigantic, but as they entered the camp, they diminished to human size.

Dee and Yvonne wasted no time in running to greet them.

“We are met again, fair maiden,” said the one who liked Dee. His dark eyes flashed as he bowed to kiss her hand.

Yvonne snorted. “
Maiden?
”

But now his companion bowed to her and kissed her hand also.

“I am Andariel. He is Tomariel, my brother. There is surely joy in battle when it brings such beauties to our side.”

“Za za zoom,” said Dee.

“Are you kin to us?” asked Tomariel, glancing at their wings with surprise.

“Nope. Just queens for a day,” Yvonne said ruefully.

“Pumpkins the rest of the time,” Dee said with a little sigh.

The two fairy-men looked baffled.

“Fully human and fully alive,” Yvonne confessed.

They expected their heroes to be disappointed, but the brothers exchanged grins of delight.

“It has been long since we made merry with mortal women,” said Andariel.

“We used to have great sport and play,” his brother agreed.

“We’re into sport,” said Dee, brightening.

“And play,” Yvonne added.

• • •

As her aunts dallied with their admirers, Dana was also being reunited with someone she knew. She had recognized the beat of the big skin drums long before Trew marched into sight, leading a battalion of trolls. How different they looked now that she knew they were allies! Where they had appeared alien and horrifying in the dark tunnels, here they seemed simply big and pastywhite; friendly soldiers tramping to join her cause.

Trew was dismissing his troops when she joined him.

“Build yourselves hootchies, boys,” he commanded. “Use good strong branches and braid them with plenty of leaves, in case it rains. I’ll go get the chocolate.”

The pale faces of the trolls lit up and they let out a cheer. All were kitted out in TTC uniforms with great axes and spears gripped in each hand. Trew himself was uncharacteristically somber in the gray jacket of an inspector, but he wore his peaked cap at a jaunty angle and still sported his shades.

“You’re the King of the Trolls!” Dana said. “And you didn’t even tell me!”

“Means nothin’ in the subways,” he said with a laugh. “Half the time they don’t remember. But as long as they get plenty of chocolate, they’ll do what I say. Who’s the quartermaster round here? The one who provides the grub?”

“Daisy Greenleaf is the one you want,” she said, pointing out the Creemore captain.

“See you in a tick,” Trew said, tipping his cap, “after I get these boys settled.”

The ground trembled underfoot as a corps of giants arrived, led by Fingal.

“There you be, little one!” he roared happily. Reaching down, he scooped Dana into his palm. “Where’s the boyfriend?”

The big smile died on his face when she told him.

“Oh, that’s bad,” he boomed, scratching his bald head with concern. “But we’ll get him back for ye, hen. Just see if we don’t!”

As more and more troops and clans arrived, the ache in Dana’s heart increased to anguish. Despite the hilarity and excitement, she couldn’t ignore the truth. Many of these would die before the night was through.

For as surely as forces gathered to defend the Land of Dreams, so too another army was massing. On the far side of the plain, a gloom hung over the ragged treetops. A sickly vapor seeped from the ground. Through the air came strange cries and moans, shrieks and growls. The wind carried a foul stench in its wake. There on the opposite side of Magh Croí Mor were the allies of her enemy, those who stood with him against life and light.

In the center of the plain was the prize to be won: the great portal. It stood alone and shining at the heart of the battlefield.

• • •

Dana was called to the pavilion where the leaders were holding their Council of War. Dee and Yvonne followed her in. There was a long table spread with a feast, but the food was untouched and the goblets of wine remained full. Everyone was standing, their faces stern and grave. Gwen and Laurel were there beside Finvarra and Findabhair.

Daisy Greenleaf told Dana the battle plan.

“There is no need for complicated stratagems or tactics. The plan is simple. The army is here for one purpose only: to hold back the tide while you go forward to reach the portal. Step by step, inch by inch, you must make your way toward it, even if that means climbing over us, injured or dead. You are the key. Only you can open the door. You must not be distracted by what happens around you. We have come this day to defend our dreams. We gladly offer our lives for the sake of the cause. And even as we play our part, so must you.”

Weighed down by the thought of what lay ahead, Dana couldn’t speak. She simply bowed her head to show her agreement.

“Wait a minute,” said Yvonne. “You mean you guys can be harmed? What about your magic? Your immortality?”

Alf Branch waved in the direction of the enemy forces.

“They’re immortal, too, and they’ve got their own magics. Truth is, we can maim and kill each other … and we will.”

Both aunts paled. They were just beginning to realize the true nature of the situation. This was no adventure fantasy or exciting daydream. This was real and dangerous. If the fairies could be hurt or killed, then horrible things could happen to them also. Each faced the stark fact that they might die that night.

They looked at their niece with sudden regret.

“We should have stopped you from coming,” said Yvonne.