The Faerie Queen (The Faerie Ring #4) (26 page)

“
I’m sorry to tell you that—” Tiki swallowed and blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry to say that Larkin was murdered by Sullivan—one of the Donegal’s
tánaistes.
”

A c
ollective gasp filled the air, followed by cries of dismay.  “Murdered?! No! It’s not true!” “It can’t be—nothing can hurt Larkin.”

Tiki took a deep breath, hoping she could kee
p her tears from falling. “One more reason why we cannot let a madman like Donegal ruin our world any longer. Gather your strength—for we attack soon.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Fial stood
alone on a windswept cliff overlooking the sea. In his hands he held a bag woven from grass that sagged from the weight of its contents. He stared out over the shifting water, watching the white caps frolic and chase each other until the clouds parted and a shaft of white light shone down and illuminated a patch of sea.  He tipped the bag and the gusting breeze lifted the ashes, making them fly on the wind.

“
To our freedom, my love,” he whispered. The contents of the bag, which had moments before been heavy in his hands, were suddenly weightless as they spread in a thousand different directions and disappeared. “We will be together again soon.”

IT STARTED AS a whisper—a rumour:  Donegal hadn’t killed the Jester—the Fool had escaped from the Winter King.

The whispers grew.

The Jester had been seen near the zagishire—dressed in his colorful finery. He had awed a passerby with his magic, creating a bird of fire out of thin air and had only whispered one word: “
Revolution.”

The gossips said he
had juggled seven deadly knives before the slaves in the kitchen without cutting himself or dropping a single blade. The only word he’d spoken: “
Revolution
.”

Th
e hobgoblins, forced to join the ranks of the UnSeelie soldiers, raised a cup to him and the Seelie Queen. “
Revolution,”
they whispered.

Chapter Forty-Eight

“
The Jester is alive—” Donegal sat in the High Chamber surrounded by his generals— “and spreading discontent. The Seelie queen still lives. We can’t wait any longer. Larkin has been the driving force behind the Seelie Court since O’Riagáin’s death and perhaps before. Without her—” he slashed his hand through the air— “they are
nothing
. This new queen—Tara MacLochlan—will be easy to defeat.  We hold her two most valued soldiers and the mortal child to whom she has some perverse attachment. In her attempt to save them she will fall into our trap and we will
murder
her.  But in the meantime, we attack.”

Sullivan leaned forward, his gaze intent upon his king.
“Where should we start?”

“
I want the Jester found and
now
.  He can’t be far because I hear the whispers that he has been sighted near the palace—performing magic and speaking of
revolution
.” Donegal spat on the ground. “He has always been a problem. This time when we catch him we will kill him on the spot, do you understand?”

Cruinn, Sullivan and Scáthach nodded together.

“I want his head on a platter as proof of his death. Whoever can bring me that prize will be well-rewarded.”

There were murmurs of approval among the men.

“Assign who you must to find the Fool. I want a second group to find the queen.” He pointed a clawed nail at each of them, one by one. “One of you will go with them and be in charge of her arrest. The rest will be sent on patrols—with the sole goal of eradicating any Seelie creature they happen upon. Send your men to the Plain of Sunlight to lie in wait—the queen will be gathering her troops there.  Send them to the northern borders to enlist any Redcaps who haven’t joined us.  If the hobgoblins resist—kill them. I am done playing games. This world is mine to rule and I will rule as I please!”

SOLDIERS POURED FROM the barracks Donegal had built within the forest that bordered the Tor. They were a mix of fey—some rode, some walked, some slithered, but they all traveled with the same intent—to finish the battle and defeat the Seelie Court.

Chapter Forty-Nine

The moon had crested and
began its downward descent, only occasionally shooting an arrow of light through the clouds that hovered over London. The knock sounded loud upon the wooden door of the cottage situated at the edge of the lake in St. James Park. The visitor cringed as the noise echoed in the stillness.

“
Macha.”  She whispered to the closed door, as if her words would magically transport through the wood. She tapped again—ever so lightly.  “Open up—it’s me.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder as she counted seven long heartbeats waiting for the door to open.

Finally, the brass knob twisted and the door swung inw
ard. A petite older woman with hair the color of fresh fallen snow peered around its edge.

“
A’ine,” the woman gasped, her crooked fingers covering her open mouth. “Have you done it?”

“
Yes. Fial’s magic has worked. Larkin is dead.”

“
Come in then and get out of sight.” Macha clutched at her visitor’s hand and pulled her into the cottage. She poked her head out and quickly gazed up and down the pathway before she ducked back inside and bolted the door.

Chapter Fifty

It had been a week since Larkin’s death. A week since Tiki had last se
en Rieker, Dain and Clara.  Those Macanna who had survived and returned to the Plain of Sunlight were battered and thin. Some were healing from wounds inflicted in the fight, but the generals had promised her that with rest and regular meals the bulk of them would soon be fit enough again to fight. And all of them wanted to fight.

Tiki
left the generals in charge of rebuilding the Macanna.  She had other priorities. Before she could allow an attack on Donegal, she had to find Rieker, Dain and Clara. Larkin had told her that Donegal kept his prisoners in only three places: The Palace of Mirrors, the White Tower or the Plain of Starlight. The White Tower had been destroyed so that left only two places: the palace or the UnSeelie stronghold on the Plain of Starlight.

TIKI LEFT FOR the Plain of Starlight at night.  She needed to travel light and fast—without Toran following in an attempt to protect her. She would protect herself. On her back she carried a bow and an endless quiver of arrows. There were knives in her boots and attached to her belt. A light, but deadly sabre was tied to the side of her saddle. Those weapons along with her control of the four elements would have to be sufficient.

The horse she took was black as ink and fast as the wind.  The beast reminded her of the first time Dain had shown her Aeveen in the field near O’Donoghue’s farm. The
white horse had galloped toward them and Tiki would have sworn her hooves never touched the ground.

Tiki was dressed in black as well, her hair braided down her back, no glamour to shield
her features. She wanted those she met to recognize the Seelie Queen and to know Donegal and anyone who helped him would suffer her wrath.

SHE’D NEVER BEEN so far into UnSeelie territory before—she knew only that the UnSeelie stronghold was located in the darkness on the far horizon. It seemed an easy enough trip—around Wydryn Tor and through the Wychwood to the far side. Her plan of what to do after she arrived was still a bit murky, but she was determined she would not rest until her family had been found and were safely in her care again.

NIGHT TURNED TO day and then to night again. The horse never seemed to tire and Tiki let the beast have its head. Memories pounded through her mind as the hooves pounded through the Wychwood and more than once the wind dried tears that had left trails down her face.

It was on the third day, when the sun should have risen above the horizon, but didn’t, that Tiki knew she had reached the Plain of Starlight.
She pulled the horse up and led it toward a dark brook to drink. As the horse plunged his muzzle into the water Tiki debated climbing down and getting a drink herself. Her body ached from the long ride and her throat was parched.

She
eyed the forest around them. With a shrill
cawwww!
a black bird landed on a stump of wood half-submerged in the stream. The bird cocked his head, staring at her with his one visible eye as if challenging her. As Tiki watched the bird’s odd behavior, she noticed that the log the bird sat upon also had an eye that was staring at her.

Unsettled, Tiki
tugged on the reins to pull her horse’s head from the water.  She nudged her heels into his sides, urging him back away from the river.  As if in slow motion, other shapes became visible—the white bleached skull that floated nearby; the ears laid flat against the long head and the flared nostrils of what she had thought was a half-submerged log.

T
iki bit back a gasp of horror. The ‘log’ was a water kelpie, submerged just below the surface. If she had climbed down from her horse would it have attacked?

She wheeled her horse around and jabbed her heels into his sides, anxious to be gone from the stream.
The forest had changed as they rode—from healthy green trees to brown trees that had died where they stood. Barren branches reached out, reminding her of the Night Garden during winter, some blocking the trail.

Tiki had
ducked under several branches when the trail forked and she pulled her horse to a stop, unsure which direction to go. A breeze rattled through the dead wood and she looked up to find dirty little men were crouched among the branches watching her.

“
Who goes there?” One of them cried in a high, raspy voice that sounded like the
caw
of the black bird.

Tiki sat straighter in the saddle.
“Tara MacLochlan. I seek the UnSeelie Court. Can you tell me which way to go?”

The men muttered among themselves in bird-like chirps.

The same man spoke again. He leaned forward, his long toes wrapped around the branch to secure his place in the dead tree. “The Court is in session at the Palace of Mirrors upon Wydryn Tor.”

“
I am seeking several of Donegal’s prisoners.” Tiki’s tone brooked no argument. “Where will I find the Plain of Starlight?”

The men muttered among themselves again, their chirps sounding more alarmed this time.

“Has Donegal sent you?”

“
Yes.” Tiki toyed with the idea of shooting a bolt of lightning at the base of the leader’s tree to encourage him to answer but he spoke again.

“
There.” He pointed down the left fork of the road. “That path leads to the UnSeelie camp, but there’s no one there. Donegal has sent everyone to attack the Plain of Sunlight.”

Tiki’s eyes narrowed
into a glare of hatred. In her mind’s eye she could clearly see the devastation and death that Donegal had brought upon the Plain of Sunlight. “Why haven’t you gone, then?”

The man flapped his arms like a bird then hopped to another branch.
“Can’t fly, can’t walk. The Winter King didn’t want us.”

“
But you make wonderful sentries. Perhaps the Winter King has sold you short.”

The men chirped among themselves in tones of surprise as Tiki nodded
her thanks and kicked her horse into motion. She wondered if she would recognize the UnSeelie stronghold when she saw it.

She need not have worried. Less than thirty minutes later a familiar silhouette shadowed the path: bodies impaled on stakes. There was no way to avoid riding past the
grisly sight and she averted her eyes as she drew close to the first stake. Her horse shied away with a nervous whinny and Tiki’s focus shifted from avoiding looking at the dead bodies to controlling her horse. In the process, her gaze inadvertently fell upon the face of the dead soldier.

Bushy eyebrows, a beak-like nose, a jutting chin and an odd hump on his back—it was the hobgoblin who had watched them when she and Rieker had gone in search of the Cup. His long braid dangled in thin air as if he swung in play from a tree limb.

With a cry of rage, she swung her sabre free and sliced through the stake that held the dead hobgoblin suspended in midair. His body tumbled into the underbrush and disappeared as the vines on the ground wriggled with sudden life to wrap their arms around the corpse.

Tiki stared down the row
of dead bodies that lined the path. Were these the hobgoblins who had resisted Donegal’s attempt to make them fight for the UnSeelie Court? Would she find Gestle, the hobgoblin who had helped her and Rieker save Dain from the White Tower, among the dead?

Her breath was ragged in her throat as she rode down the trail, slicing
each stake in half as she passed, letting the bodies tumble to the ground. She couldn’t possibly bury all these dead, but the forest seemed to be reclaiming its own.

Where before she had thought she would avoid looking at the dead, she checked every face—afraid to find Gestle, while at the same time hopeful she would not.

The bodies didn’t stop until she reached a stone archway that she presumed led into the headquarters of the UnSeelie Court. She had not recognized Gestle’s face among the dead.

Disturbingly similar to the opening that led into the Seelie Court on the Plain of Sunlight, Tiki stared at the nondescript doorway that led into the UnSeelie stronghold. What would she find inside?
More death? Or would she find the lives she so desperately sought?

“DON’T LEAVE ME,” Tiki whispered into the ear of her horse before she tied the reins to the saddle and set the horse free. “I might need you again.”

The horse jerked its head as if in assent then ambled toward a patch of trees that appeared half alive
and sprouted green leaves.

Tiki adjusted the strap of her quiver, the bow held tightly in one hand as she
walked boldly in through the arched stone entry. The outside was shadowed with no moon or sun to light the way, but inside the doorway was pitch black. Tiki stopped, waiting for her eyes to adjust but it was so dark she couldn’t even make out which direction to walk.

“
How does anyone bloody well see in here?” she muttered under her breath. She scooted one foot in front of the other but it was hopeless. She groped along the wall until she found what she sought—a torch, waiting to be lit.  With a flick of her wrist, fire spurted from the depths of the torch, the flames throwing a circle of light. “That’s more like it.”

She held the torch high, wondering where everyone was. In the Seelie fort, there were guards at the entry and at many points along the way to the interior.
Here—there appeared to be no one. Had Donegal taken everyone to the Palace of Mirrors for winter? Or perhaps all of his troops were fighting the war.

The tunnel wound back and forth in a meandering path.
Where the Seelie stronghold was surprisingly opulent, this was barely more than a tunnel carved within the earth.  Vines sprouted from some of the walls and the moist smell of dirt hung rich in the air.  Tiki had just turned a corner when a huge shadow lunged at her with snapping teeth and talon-like claws. She reacted by instinct—she reached across her body and grasped a dagger, flicking it back into the face of her attacker. There was a loud *pop* and the huge shape exploded into a much smaller figure that hit the ground and ran away.

“
Spriggans.” Tiki yanked her bow up and aimed an arrow at another shadow further down the path. The metal tip hit its mark and the giant ogre popped and disappeared. One more came at her but Tiki made quick work of it with another arrow.

She turned the corner and stared. A vast room
stretched before her. Devoid of life, the space was littered with debris: wine bottles, empty and strewn all about the floor as if dropped where they’d been finished; half-chewed bones and maggot-infested meat littered table tops; chairs were tipped on their sides as if a party had ended in a horrific brawl.

But that wasn’t what had riveted Tiki’s attention. It was th
e paintings on the walls of the circular room: Amazingly life-like, one was of Larkin, now with a red X painted over her face. Next to her were Dain and Rieker, both with a single black slash across their faces. A picture of Tiki covered the wall next to Rieker. And next to her picture—was an image of Clara—with a red X covering her face.