Chapter Fifteen

 

 

“Over there, over there.” Alvey pointed to a far pile of treasure, out of the sight of Commander Walker.

After collecting everything they’d dropped in the confrontation with the dwarf, they had decided to take a five-minute break in a smaller tunnel that was farther underground. There was no treasure there except for a mound in the corner that Deirdre was wheeling Alvey toward. She glanced up at the tall cavern ceiling above them and gulped. The dwarf’s attack had been a horrifying distraction, and now that the threat had passed, the cavern walls were once again all too close, surrounding them entirely.

“Make haste, we do not have all day,” Alvey whispered.

“What are we looking for?” Deirdre snapped unintentionally, hating how the cave walls grew closer around them in this area. “Is it important?”

“Of course! ’Tis what I came to find in the first place.”

“Fine, but let’s hurry.”

At the pile, Deirdre sat down on a wooded stool that was intricately carved with Celtic-style knots along the legs. Alvey pulled a lever on the side of her chair, and it swiftly lowered the seat almost to the ground so she could easily reach the treasure.

Deirdre made an attempt to help her sort through the objects, hoping it would keep her mind off the looming cave walls. “What are you looking for, exactly?” she asked.

Alvey replied in a whisper that reminded Deirdre of a little girl telling a secret. “Relics. Items imbued with Time Magic.”

“Time Magic? What’s that?”

“It is the magic present in the flow and passage of time, obviously.”

“Huh. Can faeries use that?”

“Nay, it cannot be harnessed like other magic. But it is present often enough, moving as it wills.”

“As it wills? What does that mean?”

“Magic moves on its own!” Alvey snapped. “It does not just sit around waiting for faeries to come along and give it a nudge, does it? Fie! You are nearly as bad as that Jay, with your questions.”

“His name is James.”

Alvey just shrugged in response.

Kneading her forehead, Deirdre asked, “What do these things look like anyway?”

“Fie, I do not know! Use your senses.”

The items Deirdre was handling were already a blur of gold, silver, and wood; it was hard to concentrate when the air was so close, and the roof appeared to be slowly falling. Frustrated and beginning to tremble, she threw down the scepter in her hands with a loud crash.

“Stop that! They might tell us to stop searching!” Alvey chided.

Deirdre covered her face with her hands. “I don’t care! I want to leave this place! I hate caves. I hate closed spaces—I hate this!”

“What?” Alvey scoffed. “Pray tell, why? Since your primary magic is obviously not Wind Magic, you have no real reason—”

Deirdre threw her arms in the air, beginning to pace. “Because it freaks me out! And aren’t you done yet?”

Alvey was scowling, but she rummaged quickly through the closest pile, only to stop and retract her hand, clasping a large, old-fashioned, silver pocket watch.

“That’s it, right?” Deirdre asked impatiently. “Let’s go!”

They trekked back toward the others, where they were cleaning and mending their wounds.

On the way, just to trying to distract herself, Deirdre asked, “So you’re all done in these caves, right, Alvey?”

“Aye. But”—she ran her fingers over the watch—“this is not as I expected it to be. I require something I can easily keep on my person at all times, without it affecting me or doing anything I do not wish it to. I shall need a few more things, from elsewhere, before I return home.”

“Like what?”

“Some nails and wood, a strong necklace chain, and certain crystals.”

“Why do you need it anyway?”

“Time Magic is rare these days, but it is often present in the faery realm. I can sense it some but not predict or control it. No faeries can in the realm.” She let out a small snicker. “But with this, I should be able to at least predict it. To be able to harness it would be more preferable…”

“Why do you need to predict it?” Deirdre’s eyes widened, and she asked in a whisper, “Is it dangerous?”

“I… I suppose you might say that.” Alvey hesitated a moment before continuing, “I am not as adept at avoiding it as the Noble Faeries are. The Noble Faeries can easily avoid being caught in it, being rushed into the future by a river of magic or being held in one place in a slow pool.”

Deirdre pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t really get what you mean.”

Alvey groaned and then snapped, “I am not really fourteen, understand?”

“What? I mean, no. You look and act fourteen!”

“Aye, but I was caught in the rapids of a river of Time Magic. It pushed me forth, three years, in just what seemed a score of minutes.”

Halting, Deirdre’s mouth fell open. “B-but then you’re really seventeen! You’re as old as I am? No way!”

“Once again, those years passed by so quickly for me I did not age. That is the power of Time Magic. And that was just a single river of it.”

“Wow. That… actually sounds kind of scary.”

“Well, I truly wasn’t scared!” Alvey exclaimed a bit too loudly. “But I do not wish to be at the mercy of its whims. So…” She held out the watch. “Enhanced properly, this should enable me to better sense and predict the movement of the magic. Therefore, I will have nothing to fear when I return to the realm!”

“I thought you said you weren’t afraid?” Deirdre couldn’t help but wheedle, grinning as she began to push the chair again, leaning forward to see Alvey’s reaction.

It was worth it; even in the shadows of the cave, it was obvious that the girl’s entire face went beet red. “I— It was simply an expression! I fear no magic! Humph!”

“Where were you two?” Iain asked as they rounded a pile of treasure back to the others.

“Looking around,” Deirdre replied. “Alvey needs more stuff though.”

“True,” Alvey said in a surprisingly demure voice. “I have need of nails and wood, a necklace chain, and some rock crystals. Do you… happen to know a place where such things may be found?”

James popped out seemingly from nowhere with a gold goblet in his hands, right beside Deirdre. She let out a shriek of surprise, clutching her hands to her heart.

Alvey tensed in response in her chair. “There is not another dwarf nearby, is there? I do not smell another, and the Unseelie ones tend to be solitary creatures.”

Deirdre giggled nervously. “It’s just James.”

Alvey’s mouth formed a thin line; she seemed to be holding back a biting remark. Deirdre half expected her face to start turning blue with the effort.

“I think I know where you can get all that stuff you were talking about—” James began, breathless and wide-eyed with excitement. He looked a bit deranged, smiling like that with blood on his face.

“Eavesdropping, were you, Jay?” Alvey scoffed.

“Says the girl who’s always eavesdropping,” Iain cut in with a teasing smirk.

Alvey just laughed pleasantly, the sound a little unnerving. “Ah, a clever quip and well delivered.”

Deirdre stared at the other girl. Did Alvey just compliment him? I didn’t even think she could be nice… I guess that’s unfair though. Everyone has a nice side, I suppose…

“Anyway,” James said pointedly, “the Wayfaring Festival might have all those things you’re looking for.”

Iain frowned. “Where is that located, exactly?”

“It moves locations sometimes, but currently it’s in the Peak District, which is close to where we’re heading.”

Iain snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I remember Mum telling us about it in one of her stories about her sister—” He broke off, his mouth twitching into an unabashed grin. “Delphina used to go there every year to sell her art!”

“Art?” Deirdre asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah!” James chimed in, just as excitedly. “Mum told us that Delphina is a coppersmith—that’s what the Kalderash used to be known for ages ago—but that she makes jewelry and art installations and stuff, and sometimes she sells it at venues and events.”

“Then our problem’s solved,” Iain said. “We’ll find Delphina there, and we can talk to her one-on-one, without anyone else to intervene. She’ll help us.”

After a moment, Iain added, “And Alvey can get her stuff, of course.”

“Ah, yes!” Alvey clasped her hands, smiling. “’Tis quite the gathering of all sorts of folks, of all trades. Good suggestion, Iain.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

“Yeah.” James grumbled. “Good suggestion, Iain. I wonder where you come up with all your good ideas!”

Iain reached over and gave his shoulder a little shove. He chuckled. “I just steal them from my egghead brother.”

The brothers and the commander were still getting ready to move on; at first Deirdre tried to sit down and wait, but she was soon pacing again, trying to keep her head down and pretend that the roof above them was actually pulled back and it was just the open darkness of night above her.

“If you’re so scared, why don’t you tap into the magic here?” Alvey asked a bit shortly, fiddling with the pocket watch.

Deirdre stopped midstep. “I’ve been trying to keep magic from coming out of me all day! And I already failed at that… Why would I want to do it again? I might bring the roof down!” Her voice pitched with panic, and she sat down, hugging herself.

Alvey’s voice softened just a little bit. “You really have no idea how magic works, do you?”

Deirdre sighed. “No.”

Sitting up straighter, the younger girl said, “Magic is all around us, a part of the world and all the elements; ’tis a natural part of all creation, as normal and prevalent as gravity and magnetic forces.”

“What are you getting at, Alvey?”

“I’m saying, magic is something you tap into and channel through you. ’Tis not just popping up from inside you.”

Deirdre gestured her hands toward Alvey in a pleading manner. “But the only way it seems to happen is when I get mad or upset or… or something else, and then it just explodes and hurts things and people and…” She sighed, shuddering. “I hate it. I wish it’d just go away.”

Alvey responded to this heartfelt emotional outpour by reaching over and solidly punching Deirdre’s shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” she demanded, rubbing her arm.

“Magic is part of who you are as a faery, Deirdre—don’t say you want it to go away! ’Tis foolish and inconsiderate!” She gestured to herself with both hands. “Do you have any idea how it makes half elves like me feel?”

“What?”

Alvey leaned her head back, letting out an exasperated groan. “At least learn how to get in touch with magic—even I can do that without getting angry or anything you mentioned.”

“But then the magic will come out, and—”

“No, it shall not! Simply listen to it.”

Deirdre shifted, reaching down and raking her fingers through the pebbly cave floor uncertainly.

“Close your eyes now.”

Sighing, she shut her eyes.

“Focus on the rocks around you, beneath you, beside you, above you… all throughout this entire cave system.”

Deirdre’s eyes flew open, and she looked at Alvey in disbelief. “All of them?”

“Well, why not?”

Picking up a particularly large pebble in her hand, she asked, “Can’t I just focus on one?”

Alvey groaned again. “And why would you do that? Just listen to them all!”

“I don’t really see how—”

“Hold your tongue and do it!”

“Fine!”

Deirdre hesitated a moment before defiantly holding on to the pebble with both hands, concentrating on it as she shut her eyes again. After a few moments, she was able to tune out the sounds of the boys and the commander talking and getting ready to move onward. Slowly she became aware of the texture of the pebble: the subtle rough areas, the smoothest areas, the areas that might cut someone moving just in the right way at the right speed. She leaned down and breathed in the smell of it and the cave.

“This cave is connected to the entire earth,” Alvey said in a low voice. “It all has a heartbeat, because magic is alive. By listening to Earth Magic, you’ll hear the earth’s heartbeat, past and present.”

“Okay…”

Alvey huffed. “Just think about it.”

Sighing, Deirdre tried for a moment to process all that the younger girl had said, to little avail. She soon slipped into wondering where the rock came from originally. Did it come from a stalagmite or stalactite? Then she remembered the two types of rock: sedimentary and igneous. Which one was this?

Most likely sedimentary… so it was made of stuff from the whole island. Or at least stuff in this area…

The more she thought about it, the more she could imagine it: how this had once been normal dirt, underneath the everyday gray skies of England, and how, over time, it was beaten down by weather, animals, and eventually men until it became so deep. Even dwarves had used it in the past before the Unseelie one had claimed this cave.

Hundreds of other rocks in the rest of the cave had been beaten down and formed the same way too. With a small gasp, she opened her eyes. Although she did not actually see it with her eyes, she could identify every single part of the cave that had the same origin as this pebble; they seemed to light up in a soft, creamy light, vaguely flickering or pulsing, like small beacons or candle flames. This strange second sight didn’t fade or cease.

She felt warmth creeping back into her arms, which had gotten quite chilly in the cool air of the cave. But the warmth didn’t rush up to her neck and make her blood boil; it was comfortable and natural, like sinking into warm water.

“Wow.” A smile formed as she looked up at the ceiling; it now seemed, to her mind’s eye, to light up like a constellation as she saw all the rocks that shared kinship with the one in her palm.

“Did you hear anything?” Alvey asked, sounding a bit smug.

Deirdre nodded enthusiastically, holding up the pebble practically in Alvey’s face, even though the girl couldn’t see it. “Yes! I understood it! I mean, I saw where this came from, all the dwarves who had used it all these years!”

Alvey sniffed the air, apparently to figure out exactly what Deirdre was holding to her; soon she stopped, and her face twisted in furious recognition. “You… tapped into just that pebble?”

“And I can see all the other rocks connected to it!”

“You fool, I told you to listen to the whole cave!”

“Well, I understand the cave better now, I think! Because I see all those other rocks; I mean, I can’t see them, but I can sense them! It’s like… I recognize them, but I don’t know how!”

Alvey flushed. “You completely ignored my instructions!”

“But this is cool!”

“This is pitiful! All that you are telling me now—this is expected for a faery child just starting to speak!”

Deirdre briefly frowned, then shrugged. “Well, this is more than anything I would have expected, so… I don’t care! I like it.”

Scowling, Alvey managed to turn around in her seat, her back toward Deirdre, arms folded. “You didn’t listen to me! I’m not teaching you anything else!”

“Oh come on, Alvey! So I didn’t do everything you said—it was still helpful!”

“Nay! You know best, apparently!”

“Alvey!”

Less than a minute later, during which Alvey soundly ignored Deirdre’s various pleas and scoldings, they all began to head down the cave passageways. As they did, Deirdre kept picking up or fingering rocks that weren’t illuminated, concentrating on them and listening to find out where they came from. While most were sedimentary, she did come across the occasional very old one that was igneous in its origin. At one point she ran right into Iain when her mind was full of the stones’ memories of volcanoes.

Iain chuckled, reaching out to steady her. “It’s a little hard to see in here, yeah?” he said. “I just almost ran right into a stalactite—”

Her heart full of seeing live, red-hot lava eventually turn to rock, she simply beamed and replied, “This is really cool.”

He looked a bit concerned, glancing around as if he’d missed something. “The cave?”

“This!” She held up the small, rough black stone in her hand, practically shoving it in his eye. “I’m looking at it with magic. Alvey showed me how—”

Alvey let out a loud, “Tuh!”

“—and I can see it! I can see the volcano it came from!” Iain still looked perplexed, so she hurried on. “It’s like I have four eyes, and the other two are seeing straight into this bit of molten lava mess, spurting and smoking and rushing about, all hot and red and orange! It’s so cool!”

Iain smiled briefly before pressing his hand against the wall of the cave like he might feel what she felt. Then he pulled away, glancing at the stone thoughtfully. “You can really see all that? I had no idea magic could do that or be so… amazing.”

“I know! I had no idea either!”

“I guess the Summer Court might teach you more things like that.”

Deirdre stopped for a moment; she hadn’t considered that. Then the vision of the rock’s progress changed, hardening and being cooled by mist and then rain, and she decided to think about the Summer Court later.

 

They continued through the treasure-filled tunnels. Eventually they came to a large chamber that was full of mostly steel and wood treasure. Deirdre wouldn’t have noticed any details beyond that, so distracted by the history of a rock she had just picked up with some trace of crystals inside, if the commander hadn’t stopped to look over the treasures.

“These are all weapons,” he said, his expression hard.

James inspected the pile nearest him, pointing down and saying, “Look at this! This looks like a Roman Gladius.”

“Aye, the Romans came to this island, so that is no surprise,” Alvey said a bit shortly.

“But this club.” James hefted up a wood and steel club with some difficulty. “It’s got some Egyptian hieroglyphics on it. Look!”

Deirdre stepped over, frowning at it and tapping at the faded, worn hieroglyphics with her fingernails. “I wonder how that got here?”

“There’s stone spears, sickle swords”—the commander hefted one up and looked closely—“this looks like something out of my childhood Bibles, about Babylon.”

Iain was looking quietly at a suit of armor, medieval knight style, with the armored helmet, as well as a lance nearby.

“What are these doing here?” James whispered, now holding and inspecting a silver-laden dagger with designs and symbols that were wholly unfamiliar.

“Dwarves love making weapons and things like this,” Alvey said. “But corrupt dwarves are poor at crafting anything. So they steal and hoard.”

The commander tossed the sickle sword back onto the pile loudly, making Deirdre and James jump. “None of these have iron in them anywhere except some of the blades. That’s the only thing that is similar about them. No iron.”

James’s eyes lit up, and he beamed down at the dagger in his hand. “These are all faery weapons! That’s amazing!”

“It’s a stockpile of weapons for them to use against humans,” Walker said coldly. “It’s only amazing if you’re interested in the extinction of the human race.”

“These weren’t made to be used against humans,” Alvey said mockingly. “Honestly, why would the blades sometimes have iron?”

“They used them against other faeries?” James asked in a hushed voice. “But why?”

“Just think about it,” Iain said, arms folded. “There’s a Summer and a Winter Court, and they’re at odds now. They’ve always hated each other.”

“But some of these are thousands of years old!” James protested. “They’ve been fighting that long?”

“Aye,” Alvey said, beginning to wheel her way down the cavern, clearly getting a bit bored with the discussion.

“Wouldn’t one have won by now?” Deirdre asked as she began to follow Alvey.

“Oh? Humans have been fighting each other for ages too. Would they not have wiped themselves out by now?”

“Well, that’s… No. We—I mean, they—haven’t.”

“Why not?”

Deirdre laughed. “Because more humans are born!”

“This doesn’t matter,” Walker said a bit tersely, walking in front of Alvey, determined to lead the way again. “All that matters is that faeries kill humans often. And this long war between them…” He looked at the piles and piles of weapons around them. “I can’t guess how many humans have died on the sidelines as casualties.”

“Why are they fighting?” James asked enthusiastically, coming right behind Alvey.

She frowned, then stopped wheeling her chair, saying, “Push me along and I shall tell you. Some.”

James hesitated just a moment, his pride and curiosity clearly at war. But his curiosity won out, and he began to push her chair, asking, “Where did the fighting start? Was there a huge first battle? Where was it?”

“Down in what you call the Middle East. Somewhere warm.”

“What weapons did they use then? What type of magic did they fight with?”

Deirdre walked behind the two, unsure whether to cut in or not. She was a bit curious herself, but James’s enthusiasm to learn about war and death was a bit unnerving. Realizing Iain was walking nearly beside her, she glanced over to see a similarly uncertain expression on his face as he watched his brother ask Alvey questions like she was a celebrity of some sort.

“James is really interested in faeries,” Deirdre stated, smiling a bit.

Iain shook his head. “That’s an understatement. I don’t know why or where he got it from.”

“I know! Especially with your dad and everything.”

“Yeah. Though my mum, uh, used to tell us stories and folktales about creatures and faeries. That’s probably a factor…” He slowly trailed into silence, his brow creasing.

“Still…” Deirdre looked ahead as James was excitedly asking Alvey to rank some faery weapons from most lethal to least. “I don’t know if this is something to be so… happy about.”

Iain nodded in agreement. “I guess it’s only exciting when you’re not living the reality of it yourself.”

“Maybe I should have a talk with him.” She hissed through her teeth, rubbing the back of her head. “I really need to talk with him about that stupid plan earlier anyway. I need to make sure he doesn’t try a stunt like that ever again…” She noticed Iain looking at her and hurriedly added, “Unless, of course, you want to do that. You are his brother.”

“You know,” he admitted, “it might be good for you to talk to him. He’d actually listen to you. You— You’re really good with him.”

Deirdre smiled.

“So, when we get out of here”—she lowered her voice—“what about Commander Walker? I mean, I guess we could just run away from him?” When Iain didn’t reply immediately, she asked, “You’re not thinking of going back to the army, right?”

“No, no.” He smiled grimly. “I’ll officially be seen as a traitor now that everyone knows I didn’t just go missing.”

“Oh. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

Tilting his head, he replied in a strained voice, “Deserters aren’t exactly praised in the army, let’s say that.”

Deirdre pressed her hand to her forehead, then jerked back and hurriedly pulled it away, having forgotten she was holding the crystal rock in that hand. When Iain gave her a perplexed look, she quickly said, “I’m sorry. I mean, if you hadn’t found James and me… I mean, if I wasn’t the one James was with… your father wouldn’t be so hard on you.”

“That’s not really true.”

“But still! I know you also left because you wanted to look for your mum, but you could have explained that, and your father and everyone else would have understood!”

The corner of Iain’s mouth twitched. “That’s… also not really true.”

“But still… here you are now.” She gestured at the cave around them. But when her eyes fell on the thousands of rocks now shining to her, friendly and familiar, she couldn’t help but add, “Though I guess this place isn’t all too bad.”

“None of this is your fault, Deirdre,” Iain assured her. “I made all my own choices, and I… I actually think I’ve finally made some good ones. I’ll just have to deal with the fallout of those choices on my own.”

“Well, you don’t have to deal with it completely on your own.”

“Right. You’re right.” Iain stared ahead, quiet for a moment. “A good soldier, I’ve been told, follows orders without question. And I… I don’t think I could do that… not with the way they’re running things now anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Commander Walker was informed you’d been framed, but he wouldn’t even consider the possibility that a faery might be innocent or that he ought to listen to someone of lesser rank.”

“Oh…” Deirdre sighed, hanging her head.

There really is no going back…

Iain continued, emboldened and speaking without mumbling, “Someone like Boyd’s operating in the Iron Infantry. All this mess happened either under the noses of his superiors or with their permission—either way, the whole system’s rubbish. And if you look at the state of things in Neo-London, or anywhere else in the country most likely, it paints a poor picture of what the Iron Guard believes help is. So maybe deserting isn’t as awful as I thought, now that I know the truth.”

“So…” Deirdre looked up at him curiously. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know exactly,” he admitted rather sheepishly. But then he smiled faintly and added, “But I know I’ve got to do something.”

He seemed determined and more energized than she’d seen him before.

Maybe once I know the truth too, I can feel the same way…

Deirdre bit her lip, contemplating confiding in Iain about her hesitation to find the Summer Court, to find her parents. But she still didn’t want to think about or face it just yet, so she stayed quiet.

When they caught up to the others, James was asking, “Alvey, why did the two Courts start fighting in the first place?”

“Probably over land,” Commander Walker muttered.

“Sort of,” Alvey replied in an airy, noncommittal manner, clearly aware that both the boys’ attention was on her and enjoying it. Deirdre rolled her eyes.

As James began to pepper Alvey with questions about what the battlefields were like and where they were, Iain fell back, looking thoughtful.

“I don’t think they fought about land,” Deirdre supplied.

“Yeah. Maybe…” Iain hesitated a moment before continuing, “Maybe it’s like how it is now. The Winter Court is threatening humanity with the warnings and the monsters they’ve sent, like that… Fachan. But it’s just because they want to fight the Summer Court.”

She tilted her head, not entirely understanding. “So… you don’t think these weapons were used on humans? I don’t either.”

“I don’t think faeries need weapons either. I bet”—Iain gestured at the weapons around them—“these were made by the Winter Court for humans, and they pressured humans into helping them fight the Summer Court.”

Deirdre gaped at him. “Really?”

“It’s what they’re doing now.”

“But we’re not helping the Winter Court! Right?”

Iain glanced forward at Commander Walker. “The Iron Guard might decide to, and soon.”

“Why?”

“They’ve been threatening to unleash more monsters on humans if we don’t. Another reason is to prevent another Cataclysm. Faeries did that, after all. What’s stopping them from doing it again?”

Deirdre folded her arms, frowning at the ground for several moments; something wasn’t adding up. “But… wouldn’t the faery who did that be an Unseelie faery, a bad one from the Winter Court?”

Iain frowned thoughtfully. “That’s likely, but my dad always said it could have been any faery from either Court. Personally, I don’t think a Seelie faery would be capable of that kind of cruelty…”

There was a moment of silence before James asked Alvey, “What makes a faery go bad, Alvey?”

“What?”

“You, um, said earlier the dwarf had turned bad, rotten.”

“Aye, I did.” She said nothing more.

“How does that happen?” Iain prompted.

Immediately Alvey sat up a bit straighter, replying with a smile in her voice, “There are several steps. The most well-known are the faery utterly abandons the Summer Court, in every way possible, acts against its nature in one way or another—commonly by eating a human—”

“Did you say eating?” Deirdre interrupted, her voice hitting a high pitch.

“Aye, though I suppose sometimes they may just get a hand or a head or some blood. By the by, this is related to what I asked you earlier today about having a taste for human blood.”

“Ugh.”

“And then,” Alvey continued, “they eat Unseelie faery fruit.”

“There are types of faery fruit?” James asked, his voice quieting.

“Aye.”

“What’s the difference? How can you tell if it’s Unseelie?”

Alvey considered and then replied, “The most common thing I’ve heard is that it resembles the pomegranate fruit. Seelie fruit is most often a golden apple.”

“So,” Iain said a bit abruptly, “is the faery who dropped the bomb Unseelie?”

“Oh, not anymore.” She was quiet for a moment before continuing in a lower tone, “No, he turned Seelie, even before I was born.”

The boys both froze while Deirdre asked, “Really? That’s—”

“Nothing I’ve ever heard of,” James said. “Are you sure that’s accurate?”

“Aye.”

“That sounds a bit, uh”—James chuckled briefly—“impossible. And kind of wishy-washy, really—that they can change, I mean.”

Iain was quiet, seemingly lost in thought at the idea.

“Oh, ’tis impossible, is it?” Alvey asked with one of her cat smiles.

It should have warned James to stop, but he continued, “Yeah, I mean, I’ve read loads of books about faeries, a lot of them banned, but they never mentioned a faery changing Courts.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, see”—he stood up straighter as they continued, warming to his theme—“faeries are born Seelie or Unseelie. And that’s it. They belong to either Court, for all their lives. Right?” He looked around at Deirdre and Iain for confirmation, clearly expecting it.

“Ahhh, I see,” Alvey drawled. “A young human boy who has lived inside a human city all his life somehow, in truth, has better knowledge and a more in-depth understanding of the heart and soul of faery life and potential than I, a half elf raised in the heart of the Summer Court, could possibly have. I see it now!” She clasped her hands together to her chest. “I was so ignorant and misguided!”

James was unsuccessfully stammering comebacks.

“How was that, Iain?” Alvey asked, talking right over James. “Was that attempt at sarcasm effective?”

Iain grinned, letting out a low chuckle. “Yep, I’d say you nailed it.”

Not long after, the tunnels began to incline, and Alvey said they’d be out soon. Deirdre hardly heard her; she was engrossed in a new rock, apparently a kind of flint she’d picked up. By this point, most of the rocks in the cave all around her felt like new friends, and she no longer was in any particular hurry to leave. She almost found herself wishing they had more time to spare; she wanted to see exactly how it would feel to know every single rock in the entire cave.

Especially when she closed her eyes, she could sense how they were currently falling loose or being dripped on by water or being shifted by something in the tunnels behind them…

She stopped, opening her eyes, looking behind them. They were at an area where several tunnels met, all heading up toward the surface.

“We’re nearly there,” Alvey said as James began to strain to push her up a steep incline.

“That dwarf was the only one here, right?” Deirdre asked Alvey.

Alvey ignored her, and Iain asked, “What do you mean? Do you hear something?”

“I just—”

A gunshot rang out; Alvey shrieked. Commander Walker staggered forward and then slumped to the ground. Deirdre rushed forward to him, just stopping from touching his back when she spotted a dizzying amount of blood streaming out from underneath his unmoving body.

“Nobody move!”

Boyd rushed out from a side tunnel right behind her, a gun in one hand and a club in the other that looked like it had come from a treasury.

Her lower jaw trembling, Deirdre choked out, “Why did you shoot him? He was—”

“I said don’t move!” he barked, aiming the gun at her, just a meter away. “You have those iron cuffs—put them on! Now!”

Before Deirdre could even react, Iain brushed past her, stopping to stand directly in front of her, blocking her from view. Boyd’s mouth twitched at an awful smile as he did so.

Beside her, James was gaping at the unmoving corpse of Walker on the ground, letting out a shuddering breath, his face pale and his hands clutching his head.

“Don’t look, James—” Deirdre instinctively reached out for him, startled by the terror on his face.

“You should look, James. It’ll prepare you for what’s about to happen,” Boyd said, aiming his gun at Iain instead. “Your stupid brother’s just made things easy for me, and now he’s about to die right in front of you—”

“He’s out of bullets!” Alvey screamed, slamming her hands down on her armrests. “I don’t smell any others in his gun!”

Iain didn’t miss a beat; he rushed forward and slammed his shoulder into Boyd before the other soldier had a chance to ready himself. Deirdre skidded back as they began to fight, Boyd quickly recovering from the initial hit and sloppily hitting his shoulder with the club.

Deirdre scooted over to where James was frozen behind Alvey, who was leaning forward and listening to the fight with excited interest like she was at a boxing match, and whispered to him, “What should we do? Iain doesn’t have anything to fight with!”

James seemed unable to speak. He looked down at Walker’s corpse and shuddered, then looked back at the fight, his eyes wide.

Crack.

Deirdre gasped and jumped up, fearing the worst from the splitting sound, only to see it was the club hitting the cave wall. Boyd had lost his grip, or Iain had managed to get it away; either way, it was out of their grasp.

That didn’t faze Boyd, who nailed Iain solidly in the face with his fist; before Iain could recover, Boyd slugged him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Iain was losing.

Deirdre was biting her nails, noticing her hands were beginning to get warm again. She took a deep breath, trying to suck it all in, scared to death of making the roof fall on top of Iain and crushing him. She looked up at the now-familiar rocks of the cave surrounding them, thinking, Please don’t do anything. Please, please, please…

To her surprise, her hands began to feel a bit cooler but without the usual sick feeling that came along with it.

She was jerked back to reality as Boyd managed to knock Iain down to the ground; the left side of Iain’s face was bloodied, and he struggled to his knees.

“I’m going to kill you here,” Boyd growled. “But not before”—he leveled a kick at Iain, who barely managed to catch it—“you tell me how Philip died! How did he die?” Boyd tried to land another blow. “Did you run away while he fought? Did you shoot him in the back? Did you help a faery kill him? Tell me!”

Iain raised his head. “A Fachan killed him. He—” Iain winced, though Boyd had stopped attacking him. “We were attacked at night. Neither of us saw it coming. He… he protected me.”

Shaking his head, Boyd replied, “So you pushed him in the way?”

“Are you listening—?”

“He’d never risk his life for a Gypsy rat junkie like you!” Boyd lunged forward, but Iain dodged this time, managing to pull himself up to his feet. “You’re betraying General Callaghan! He never should have trusted you! Philip would never die for a traitor!” Boyd hurled another punch, which again missed, but he kept advancing, each word more strangled with pain than the last. “He was a good soldier!”

“You’re right.” Iain this time caught Boyd’s punch and didn’t let go, meeting Boyd’s glare. “He was. That’s why before he died, he told me he was going to stop whatever you and General Callaghan were doing even if he didn’t know why.”

“He knew everything”—Boyd pulled his fist back from Iain’s grasp, taking another swing and just barely missing—“about the general, about the barrier around the Summer Court and bringing it down—he knew everything I did!”

“The barrier?” Iain backed up, nearly stumbling over a rock in his path. “You can’t bring the barrier down. Nothing can.”

Boyd stopped hurling blows for a moment, barely breaking a sweat, his mouth curling into a wan smile. “General Callaghan knows how, and he’s going to use her”—he jabbed a finger in Deirdre’s direction—“that little faery girl you defied orders for—to do it. He’s going to drain her magic dry.”

Deirdre felt herself sway on her feet, too aware of her pulse quickening as her heart began to thunder in her chest.

Me… He’s going to use me? My magic?

Iain had slumped over slightly, looking exhausted. But at that, his eyes narrowed and burned. Advancing toward Boyd, he furiously parried another blow, managing to slam Boyd’s arm against the wall of the cavern and causing him to pause and take a step back.

“General Callaghan thinks it was her that made you betray him,” Boyd said, gasping. “He thinks there must be something about her that made you weak. But I know better. You’ve always been weak.” Boyd took a step toward Iain, who was forced to take a step back as Boyd prepared to strike again. “Won’t matter in the end though. He’ll take her, and the barrier will fall.”

“I don’t know why Philip saved me,” Iain continued as he blocked a blow to his solar plexus, “but he is squandering his name, his sacrifice, by lying about why Philip died!”

“Shut up! You’re wrong. You’re lying!”

“But it won’t be in vain—I’m going to the Summer Court with Deirdre! I’ll warn them and stop General Callaghan!”

Deirdre felt like cheering, but Boyd really lost it, advancing and throwing punches wildly. While he was far less precise now, making it easier for Iain to read and respond to his attacks, it was still clear who was the more experienced fighter.

James was standing behind Alvey, watching all this unfold and looking sick to his stomach, hands shaking. Deirdre was beside him, whispering, “We need to do something! What should we do?”

Alvey hissed. “Cease your yammering. You need to attack the soldier and help Iain!”

“I… I can’t do that! I’ve never fought anyone bigger than me before! I mean, except the Fachan, but that was a fluke, and I was using magic…”

“So do it again!”

“No! I’ll bring the roof down on our heads! No, I can’t; I can’t use magic ever again, Alvey! That’s how we wound up here—”

“Deirdre, you were using magic all this time! When you spoke to the rocks, the way I did not tell you to—you were using magic!”

Her mouth fell open. “I was? But that wasn’t… scary at all.”

“You spoke to it and listened to its story. Now ask it to help you—ask it to help Iain!”

“How?”

“You’re talkative—just do it!”

Deirdre looked back up just in time to see Boyd’s elbow collide with the side of Iain’s head. It was a slightly glancing hit, but it was strong enough to knock Iain down again. She didn’t know if he would get back up this time.

Biting down panic, Deirdre slunk to the ground and dug her nails in, staring at the cave floor underneath the two soldiers, thinking, reaching out. Please help! I can sense you over there… I know where you’re from! You’ve listened to others, so please listen to me! Move underneath Boyd! Move and make him fall back! Move! Move, like you used to ages ago!

There was a crumbling noise, then a loud crack as the earth beneath Boyd’s feet sprang to life. It was as if he were standing on a small wave of water instead of earth, and the wave suddenly jerked forward and up, completely knocking him off his feet, sending him falling onto his back with a loud, surprised yelp.

But he began to get back up quickly, bewildered, glaring around for a cause. His gaze darted to her, and fear sprung up in her, making her briefly lose her breath.

She grabbed the ground harder and shut her eyes, whispering, “Don’t let him get up. Keep him down! Don’t let him move!”

Obediently the ground beneath him slid backward smoothly, like a speedy conveyer belt, and he went flailing but not falling. But the ground kept moving, abruptly and strongly jerking this way and that without warning to trip him; he finally fell back down, flat on his face. There was a loud, sick noise of his forehead hitting a small incline in the stone ground hard and squarely.

James let out a terse, nervous laugh as Iain quickly stepped in and cuffed Boyd, who groaned in protest, eyes shut and not moving much.

Iain let out a shout of surprise when the ground beneath him jerked backward, and he shouted at Deirdre, “Stop it!”

“Sorry!” She pulled her hands back and stood up speedily; the ground stopped shifting instantly.

“That was… magic?” James asked, his voice hollow.

Alvey answered flatly, “That was embarrassing magic.”

Iain opened his mouth to retort but just bent over instead, out of breath, one hand pressed to the bloodied side of his head.

“L-lemme up…” Boyd jerked into consciousness, still dazed. He lifted his head some, revealing an ugly, large gash taking up most of his forehead. Deirdre couldn’t help but wince.

“Only if you don’t make any trouble,” Iain replied, glaring down at him.

Boyd growled in protest.

“We could always tie you up and leave you here in this cave. Give it a week, and you might be mistaken for the dwarf. A scraggly bearded dwarf.”

Boyd didn’t reply but began to get back up as much as Iain allowed, shaking his head experimentally, wincing.

Just as Boyd began to sit up, James rushed over, quick as a flash, and delivered a swift kick to his face with a grunt, knocking him back again. Deirdre let out a shriek, stepping forward to stop him, but Iain got there first.

“Stop—!” Grabbing James under his arms from behind, Iain hoisted him off the ground, pulling him back from Boyd, who was groaning, stunned, on the ground. James barely struggled, going limp in his brother’s arms. “James, what are you—?”

“He shot him. He killed him right in front of us—” James’s voice was strained and choked, like he was holding back a shout. “He… he deserves it!”

There was a pause with only the sound of James’s shallow breathing echoing through the cave.

“I know.” Iain let go of him slowly, one of his fists still grabbing the back of his sweater. “I know, James.”

“And we— There wasn’t anything we could do…,” James said distantly, lowering his arms to his side, his eyes glazed. “We couldn’t do anything.”

Iain began to talk to James quietly where the others (except for maybe Alvey) could not hear, and James nodded once in response before Iain let him go completely, seemingly convinced that his brother wouldn’t try to land another blow.

“Is… it okay to leave him there?” Deirdre spoke up after a pause, gnawing on her lip as she glanced quickly at Walker’s corpse. “I mean, they’ll come and retrieve the body, right? They wouldn’t just leave him missing…”

Iain looked at her sadly. “The Guard will find him when they come back, and they… need to see what happened. They’ll come for him.”

Deirdre sighed. “Good.”

Iain then went back over to Boyd, instructing him to place his hands behind his back. Boyd straightened and was fairly complacent as they headed to the cave, still dazed.

 

It was getting dark as they exited the cave and cuffed Boyd to a military truck that was parked behind some trees—somewhere where Iain said he’d be found easily but not too easily. Then he took Boyd’s radio from him, presumably so that he could not call for backup, Deirdre thought.

As they headed down an old, grass-covered farm path into the trees, Deirdre turned to Iain, saying, “Why did you take that? Don’t you have a radio already?”

Iain looked down at the device in his hand. “Yes… but… Boyd’s radio is connected to the Iron Guard base in Neo-London, and maybe I can reach more of the Iron Guard with it. Maybe I can at least tell them how and why Philip died and that you’re innocent…”

Deirdre’s spirits brightened. “It’s worth a shot!” Then she waited for him to begin.

“Okay… you’re going to stand here while I do this, aren’t you?” Iain half mumbled under his breath, looking almost shy.

Then he flipped the radio on and scanned through a few channels until he heard a commanding voice come through: “This is General Windsor, requesting an update on project War Hammer. Over.”

“General Windsor,” Iain said, breathless, “this is Iain Callaghan of the Iron Wardens. Over.”

He waited, and his hand gripping the radio tightly.

The general paused, clearly confused. Deirdre could hear indistinct chatter coming through behind him. “…Where is Infantryman Prance? Over.”

Quickly at first but then slowing his speech after a breath, ignoring the general’s question, Iain began: “The faery accused of King Eadred’s assassination is innocent. I don’t know what you’ve heard about Commander Philip Prance’s passing, but I was there when it happened.

“He did not go on a mission to capture the king’s killer but to inform me that the death of the king was not a random attack by any faeries of the Courts but planned by some of the higher ups of the Iron Guard.”

Iain took a shaky breath, and Deirdre met his gaze with an encouraging nod. For some reason that seemed to give him more confidence, and his voice was certain as he continued.

“Philip knew about this treasonous plot because he served under these same higher ups, one of them being Boyd Prance, his brother. And he died defending me so that I could get this message out to you…

“The Iron Guard is trying to bring the barrier around the Summer Court down. The Guard will ask you to go to war against the Summer Court at the request of the Winter Court, claiming that this attack against the king was carried out by both Seelie and Unseelie faeries in Neo-London. But this is not the truth.”

Iain wet his lips, his eyes fixed uncertainly on the device. Then he added finally, “Don’t let Philip’s sacrifice be in vain. Over.”

After he depressed the button, there was a pause on the other end before the general clearly began to talk but was drowned out by the chatter erupting around him. They could hear a brief, strangled, static order of “Put Prance back on—” before it cut off completely.

Iain just stared at the radio, blinking once.

Deirdre clapped her hands together in brief but sincere applause once he finished and Iain’s face reddened after he jolted in alarm. “That sounded great!” she said, smiling at him.

He just nodded and hunched his shoulders as they began to walk toward the rest of the group. “I was thinking about what Alvey said, about the faery that caused the Cataclysm turning Seelie…”

Deirdre glanced up at him. “Hmm. Yes, it is strange.”

“That must be why my father is trying to bring the barrier of the Summer Court down, because that same faery lives with the Seelies now. He always said the faery that did it never paid for his crimes, never got justice.”

Frowning, Deirdre nodded. “But why would he punish the whole Court for one faery’s crimes?”

Iain looked grim when he said, “He thinks they’re all the same, faeries. He thinks it doesn’t matter who they are or how they live.” He shook his head. “He’s wrong. He couldn’t be more wrong.”

But Alan Callaghan can’t bring down the barrier… can he?

What if he does? What if I don’t reach it before then? Then I’ll never get answers…

Maybe… Maybe I don’t need answers anyway.

“Thank you, Deirdre,” Iain said.

“Huh?”

“For the magic, moving the ground and everything.” He motioned back at the cave exit. “You saved my life in there, so thank you.”

She rubbed the back of her head. “You’re welcome! I’m just glad it worked out!”

“I think you might get the hang of your magic after all.”

“Yeah… maybe. I think so too.”

“Make haste!” Alvey snapped from ahead of them.

Deirdre began to follow, but Iain stayed where he was, fiddling with the front of his military jacket.

She stopped, tilting her head. “Iain?”

“Just one more thing…” With a couple of solid pulls, he yanked off a patch of his jacket on the shoulder, briefly holding it up so Deirdre could see the Iron Warden horseshoe insignia on it before he tossed it onto the ground.

“Oh!” Deirdre let out a surprised laugh. “I thought you were going to tear off your sleeves for a moment there.”

Iain blinked once, registering what she said, before sputtering a laugh. His face colored. “Ah, that would have been much more dramatic, but I don’t think I could pull that look off. This northern weather is far too chilly!”

He turned, walking toward her and smiling faintly. “Let’s get moving.”