Song of the Fairy Queen (55 page)

“So,” she asked softly, “did you find your traitor?”

“I did,” he said, looking at her evenly, “but that’s a story for another day. We need to leave, quickly. Caleb, do you know a safe way out of the city?”

“That I do, Captain, if we move fast,” Caleb said, staring in shock at Morgan. “That I do. Is it really you, Morgan?”

“It’s really me, Caleb,” Morgan said. “I’m back.”

Caleb started to hope once again, too.

In the darkest hours of the night they put the city behind them as alarums went off, torchlights popping up here and there, guards racing to the gates too late to do any good.

The relief was short-lived, however, as they heard baying in the distance.

Kyri looked at Morgan. His mouth tightened.

These horses weren’t Fairy horses, and while it was better than being on foot, Kyri thought, it wouldn’t be for long, not against those. And the horses of the Fair were too far away to do them much good.

“Which way?” Morgan asked Caleb.

“South for a time,” Caleb said, “to see who we pick up, if we can get rid of the hounds behind us. What happened to you, Morgan? We couldn’t find any sign of either you or Joanna. You went to the cottage and then disappeared. Like smoke. We looked everywhere and there was nothing. Most thought you were dead.”

Perhaps it was the darkness; or perhaps it was because it was Caleb. Morgan didn’t know.

Pain pierced him. They must have gotten rid of Joanna’s body. It had served Haerold very well to have him seen as missing, to have people wondering, looking, waiting.

Ineffectual.

He sighed. “It was Jacob, Caleb. He gave me up to Haerold.”

The pain and grief were sharp, piercing.

It echoed through her, mixed with Kyri’s own shock and horror.

“Damn,” Caleb said bitterly. “We went to him and asked if he’d heard they’d taken you. He told us he didn’t know nothing. He was your friend, Morgan.”

“They hooked him on Bliss. He told them where to find me.”

It wasn’t all but it was enough, for now.

There was more, Kyri knew and guessed at the more, but some wounds had to be lanced and allowed to drain for a time first before they could heal or be Healed.

“Bastards,” Caleb said with feeling.

Remembering the man he’d left behind, Morgan couldn’t disagree.

The howling grew closer, the baying sharper, they had a hot trail.

“Can we outrun them?” Gordon asked.

“Not on these horses,” Morgan said, echoing Kyri’s thought. “But we can make them chase us, tire them out. And pray for rain.”

As if on command, it did.

“Some Fairy,” Kyri said, almost primly, “do have their uses.”

She’d had the same thought. As much as she hated to tamper with the weather, the weather itself had helped her somewhat, being cool and damp.

Morgan could almost feel her shoot him a look in the darkness and smiled. “It seems I owe you an apology.”

“Accepted,” she said, as if begrudgingly, but they could all hear the laughter in her voice.

That made him smile even more widely.

“Now,” Morgan said, “we try to outfox them.”

They used all the old tricks, riding along open rock, through streams, changing directions, pushing the horses as hard as they could, the rain soaking them, chilling them all to the bone.

After a while, the baying dropped away, as the rain and the clouds too passed and then the sound faded altogether.

“Safe enough to take a break, Captain?” Caleb’s voice asked wearily after a while.

Gawain’s head was bobbing over his saddle and even Gordon was drooping.

It was late, the thin crescent moon high in the sky. Even Morgan was tired.

“Where?”

Kyri extended her senses into the darkness. It would be dawn in another few hours, so they needed to be under cover.

“There’s a stand of trees that should offer us some cover to the south a little more,” she said.

Fairy she might be, but she was tired too, exhausted and heartsick.

Pursuit had only been lost in only the last few hours, so they couldn’t risk a fire.

Too tired to speak, they pulled the saddles off their horses, then their blankets and curled up on the hard ground to sleep.

For some reason Morgan couldn’t though, staring restlessly up into the sky.

Too much had happened. Sitting up against a tree, he watched the stars, thinking about Jacob and Joanna, Oryan and Gawain. And Kyri. About what had been lost. About the mysteries…

They’d been so close to winning and now it seemed they’d very nearly lost…

Kyri watched him from her blankets, sensing the pulse of his thoughts.

She was a Healer, she couldn’t not Heal. He needed to speak it, to talk about it, to release it.

However much it pained her.

Slender fingers brushed the back of Morgan’s hand lightly. He knew that touch. A memory tried to surface, disappeared…

“Will you tell me?” Kyri asked, her light, musical voice soft in the darkness.

It was as if there was this bubble of pain inside him that Morgan hadn’t been able to release. In the darkness, he shared it with her.

“He came to the cottage,” Morgan said, grief washing through him. “Jacob. That’s how I knew it was him. I wasn’t there. When I returned Joanna told me he’d been there moments before but he’d said he couldn’t stay. It didn’t make sense. Somehow I knew, then… I think I knew. He’d been acting strangely for a while. There had been changes… I just didn’t want to believe it. The Hunters burst through the doors. I tried to fight them. So did she. One struck her. She flew back and fell. I knew she was dead.”

Kyri’s heart ached for him. “I’m so sorry, Morgan.”

And she was.

She closed her eyes, gathered herself.

“Will you tell me about her?” she asked softly.

Her eyes were on him, compassionate, caring and somehow it was easy, familiar to talk to her, as if they’d done it before. So Morgan did.

Kyri pictured the sweet and loving woman she’d seen in her scrying bowl.

By the time he was done, the first light of dawn had broken, turning the sky the color of aged pearls.

Morgan felt empty, hollowed out.

“Sleep for a while,” Kyri said gently. “I’ll take this watch.”

“Are you sure? You must be tired too.”

She laughed a little, her tone light, her face a pale blur in the waning darkness.

“Yes, I’m sure. Remember, I’m Fairy. I’m stronger than I look.”

With relief, exhausted, Morgan curled up in his blankets. He felt lighter, more at peace with himself.

Kyri settled onto a nearby rock, wrapping her arms around her knees.

She bent her head and wept silent crystal tears, for what had been, for sacrifices made, for grief and loss. Her tears pattered to the ground like rain.

The argument – such as it was – had started, much to Morgan’s amusement, the moment Gawain whistled a song, his eyes slanted mischievously toward Kyri. She’d immediately turned around and shot the boy a narrow-eyed look, although her pretty mouth twitched. Gawain grinned. She’d given him another threatening look. It continued as they rode through the cool silence of the forest, the only sound around them Gawain’s whistling and the birdsong, although that had gone quiet now, too.

Morgan saw Kyri take note of it as well, even as the quarrel continued.

“No, absolutely not, you may not sing that song…” Kyri said, rolling her eyes and shooting a warning glare at Gawain, who grinned. “I said no.”

Looking upward apparently innocently, Gordon whistled it, too.

“Oh, fine,” Kyri said, to all appearances exasperated. “Now look what you’ve started.”

Caleb smothered chuckles, recognizing the tune as one that had made its rounds a few years past. He could understand why Kyri might find it unsettling but she seemed to be taking it in good humor, despite her protestations.

“What song is that?” Morgan said, shaking his head, puzzled. “I don’t know it.”

“Oh, don’t encourage them, Morgan,” Kyri protested, putting her hands on her hips.

Damn John of Orland
, she swore silently. The only thing he hadn’t done was name names in the blessed thing.

Morgan glanced at Kyri, his voice low. “Are they still there?”

She nodded.

Gordon and Gawain were oblivious to the watchers around them but Caleb had gone alert, although he played along as well.

Laughing, Gawain explained, “It’s called the Ballad of the Fairy Queen. One of the girls in town used to sing it all the time.”

“It’s got a pretty melody,” Gordon offered.

Putting on a longsuffering look Kyri said, “I’m going to ignore all of you.”

“What’s wrong with the song?” Morgan asked, more than happy to play along with the teasing while they waited for the watchers to make up their minds.

“It’s silly, treacly and hackneyed,” Kyri responded. It was also embarrassing.

Gordon said, “It’s a silly girl song about a Fairy who falls in love with a man but has to give him up.”

Curious, Gawain asked, “Is it true Fairy mate for life?”

That stung, although Kyri didn’t show it.

She sighed. “Yes. He got that much right. Just as the song says.”

Orland had actually used the words she’d given that day in Oryan’s tent, as if that weren’t bad enough.

“Is John of Orland still alive?” she demanded. “Because if he is, I will hunt him down and kill him myself, just for that benighted song.”

That brought laughter all around.

Which was when the rebels appeared and surrounded them, stepping out from behind rocks and trees, drawn bows in hand, arrows nocked.

Gawain and Gordon were still laughing like loons, the rest grinning while Kyri put on a longsuffering look, although her pretty mouth twitched, despite her best efforts.

All of them went still. No one reached for a weapon, keeping their hands in clear sight.

It’s about time
, Morgan thought, with a glance to Kyri and Caleb. They’d been making enough noise to have raised the dead.

Her eyebrow lifted, the same thought clear in her eyes.

None of the rebels looked amused.

Morgan looked at them. Most appeared pretty ragged, but they were all clean and that was a good sign.

“Who’s in charge?” he asked quietly.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” one of them said, his tone sharp.