Heart and Hooves: An Urban Fantasy
by AJ
Chapter 12
It was a long and very quiet drive to Enumclaw,
with Ralph behind the wheel of the old Volvo, and Sandy riding shotgun. Peter
and I sat in the back seat, each of us caught up on our own thoughts and not
saying much. The Lady had told us that she would provide her own transportation
to the site, and would meet us there on our arrival. Unlike Sandy, Ralph was a
calm and graceful driver, and the Volvo seemed to fairly hum under his hand.
All too soon, we exited the freeway and headed into the tiny town of Enumclaw,
tooling along through its quiet and deserted streets. We were traveling a lot
faster than speed limit, and Ralph had asked me to do "We're not here," duty
until we exited the other side of town. It must have worked - though we passed a
couple of police cars, not one seemed to pay us the slightest mind.
And then we were there. We left the small, blacktopped road with its infrequent
streetlights, and turned into a narrow dirt road with deep potholes. The Volvo
negotiated the dirt track easily, jouncing along and creaking but still willing.
At one point I felt the tingle of wards, but weakly. A little later, I felt it
again, this time much stronger.
We left the cover of the trees, and a large clearing opened up ahead of us.
There was a bonfire burning in the center of the meadow, and a number of cars
parked around it. I had an impression of many people standing and milling about,
but it was hard to make out individuals.
We pulled up, and Ralph set the parking brake and cut the engine. There was a
moment of silence, and then Sandy shrugged as if to say "Well, here we go,"
opened the door and got out of the car. The rest of us piled out and almost
without thinking formed up behind him, presenting a solid front to the rest of
the those in the field. And, now that I could see clearly, there were quite a
lot of them here. They seemed to be split into two distinct camps, with the
great bonfire at the dividing point.
On the far side of the fire, a small pavilion had been set up - a simple
framework with a central peak and samite draped down to just below the point
where the walls began, with a woven groundcloth to cover the dirt. Within this
open structure, Torrel and Daindraen and two others stood and waited for us. The
other two, clad in formal robes similar in cut but colored black and red instead
of the white and gold of the Lios Alfar, stood silently and watched us approach.
"Be welcome, Sandellifer of Agryvaine and companions." Daindraen's voice was
gravelly and deep. Then turning to one of the Drow that stood silently next to
him, "The champion for Seelie is arrived, Danthel, and the hour is upon us.
Where is your champion?"
"Patience, Daindraen. He arrives even as we speak," the Unseelie representative
answered. "See how he comes even now."
And shining on the darkened wall of trees, headlights could be seen approaching
along the dirt road that we had driven just moments before. In moments, the
black BMW sedan that I remembered so well pulled up alongside our old Volvo
wagon and stopped in a small cloud of dust. The engine purred for a moment and
then cut off, and the driver's door opened to reveal Arturo, clad in immaculate
evening dress. He stepped to the back door and opened it, and Braewynn stepped
out. He was dressed in the traditional finery of an Unseelie noble - close
fitting black and silver, with a half cloak covering his back and one arm. When
they had crossed the short distance from the car to the pavilion, Danthel spoke
again: "Welcome Braewynn, champion of the Unseelie, and your second." He bowed
to them both, and Braewynn nodded to the Unseelie Honor Court representative.
There was a moment of silence, and then Torrel stepped away from us and gestured
Sandy forward, even as the other Drow did the same with Braewynn.
"Ladies and Gentles of the courts, I present to you Sandellifer, heir apparent
of Agryvaine and the accuser in this case. He lays charges of dishonor and
insult to his clan brother against his opponent, and would prove the verity of
his claim on the field of honor, in mortal combat." His voice, without seeming
to be raised, penetrated to the far end of the field, and raised a storm of
cheering from the Seelie side of the crowd of spectators.
When the cheering had died down, Danthel stepped forward with Braewynn at his
heels. "Ladies and Gentles of the courts, I present to you Braewynn, Duke of
Athelon, who is accused in this case. He denies any wrongdoing and would prove
his innocence of the charges laid against him in this case on the field of
honor, in mortal combat." Immediately a great roar of cheering rose from the
Unseelie spectators, and Braewynn nodded briskly in acknowledgment.
Both the champions and the Honor Court representatives returned to the small
pavilion, and Daindraen stepped forward. "Both combatants shall have ten
minutes, as they are reckoned here in the human lands, to prepare for combat. At
that time, the contest shall commence. Go, and return with your seconds at the
appointed time."
Dismissed for the moment, both men turned and retreated to their respective
vehicles followed by their seconds: Ralph as Sandy's second, and Arturo walking
behind Braewynn.
In the lurid, red light cast by the bonfire, I could see both of them near their
respective cars, stripping out of their clothes and being assisted into their
combat gear - Braewynn into dark leathers, and Sandy into bright, silver ring
mail. When both were fully dressed, each of the seconds went to the trunk of the
respective cars; Arturo pulled a long, narrow box from the boot of the BMW, and
Ralph returned from his trip to the back of the Volvo with a similar package.
Carefully setting the dark wooden box on the hood of the Beemer, Arturo opened
the wooden lid to reveal twin rapiers nestled in velvet within. He withdrew each
and handed it slowly to Braewynn, who placed them in scabbards at his belt and
checked to make sure their draw was clean and unimpeded.
Meanwhile, Ralph set the oak box he was carrying on the hood of the Volvo, and
popped open the lid. I saw his face go momentarily blue with the light from
inside the box, and he reached in and pulled out Kaldor. It was a long, heavy
looking two-handed sword, with a great cabochon sapphire set in the pommel, but
otherwise a very workman-like blade: the hilt was wrapped in leather, and it had
plain brass quilons. Its blade was perfectly straight, double- edged and
unadorned. He laid it across his forearm with his other hand on the crossguard
and offered the hilt to Sandy, who took it from him with a smile. The moment it
felt its master's hand, a tiny rill of blue fire ran down the length of the
blade and burned at the tip for a moment. Without even looking, Sandy hefted it
and slid it into a baldric across his back, the hilt standing up from behind his
right shoulder. Finally, each of the seconds bowed to their duelist, and
followed them back to the pavilion.
When they stood once more in front of the Honor Court representatives from each
court, Danthen spoke again. "Each of you is familiar with the terms of this
challenge. There will be no quarter given - the duel will continue until one or
both of you lies dead, by your own consents. Are each of you fully prepared?"
"Aye," Sandy said.
"I am prepared," Braewynn replied.
"Then the combatants will repair to the field, and the duel commence."
Both men walked slowly to a space on the far side of the bonfire, with the Honor
Court marshals following. When they stood ready, Torrel called out, "Combatants,
salute."
Kaldor cleared the baldric in an arc of blue light, sweeping down and then up to
stand upright before Sandy's face, and then back down and to the right. "Beware,
my enemy. I would have your life for your crimes." Sandy's voice was low and
dangerous, not meant for the ears of the spectators.
Braewynn sneered and raised one rapier in a cursory salute. "Come and take it
then, if you can. As the father, so the son."
"Combatants, begin." No sooner had the command been given then both of the men
glided forward, almost too fast for the eye to follow, and there was a sudden
explosion of sound - the crash-slither of sword on sword as each sought a way
through the other's guard.
It all happened much to fast for me to know what was really happening. I don't
know much about dueling or sword fighting, so to me it looked like a blur as
each rained a flurry of strokes on the other and parried in between - and while
- attacking. I glanced over at Torrel and Daindraen, and both watched with
intense interest. I thought they were probably following every stroke and seeing
both the combatant's strategies, and I was a little envious.
When I glanced back, I noticed that Braewynn was backing slowly and Sandy was
advancing, but I also noticed that Braewynn was always moving in a sideways
direction, looking for an unprotected flank while Sandy moved in opposition,
always presenting his most solid defense.
With a sudden screeling of blade on blade, Sandy knocked aside one of the
rapiers, parried a thrust from the second, and slipped Kaldor's tip inside
Braewynn's guard to trace a tiny line on the Drow's face. Blood immediately
began to drip from the cut, and Braewynn grinned ferally and sped up his
attacks, rapiers striking like vipers, probing for a chance to wound in return.
I was astonished when Kaldor met every attack and turned it. How could anyone
move so fast?
I glanced away again, just a brief, questioning look at Ralph. He caught the
look and leaned forward.
"He's good," he murmured. "I think he could beat me, and I'm no slouch. I don't
know if he's good enough to beat Sandy, though. I have a feeling we'll soon find
out."
Two minutes later, we did find out. The end, when it came, happened far too fast
for me to see what actually took place. One moment they were each a blur of
deadly movement, the next Braewynn was down, lying on his back in the dirty
grass of the pasture with one rapier fallen from his hand, the other pinned
beneath his own fallen body. Kaldor's tip hovered menacingly at his throat, a
hairs-breadth from the deadly stroke that would end the contest. One breath, one
heartbeat and we'd won!
But the moment never came. As Sandy stepped back slightly, Braewynn scrambled to
his knees, head hanging and his shoulders slumped in defeat. He left both
rapiers on the ground and knelt before his enemy. But even as he came to his
knees, a slight movement of his right hand produced a dagger in that hand, a
dagger with a dull grey blade edged in black, as if it were tarnished. His
movement to his knees became a desperate lunge forward, the dagger striking up
and forward to bury itself to the hilt in Sandy's thigh, ripping through the
ring mail that should have protected him as if it were tin foil.
The effect was immediate. Sandy went white as a sheet, the glow of his armor was
snuffed out like a candle, and he staggered back, then fell to his knees. He
gripped the dagger, but his hands kept slipping and he couldn't pull it out.
Braewynn slowly got to his feet and leaned down to pick up his rapiers, no
longer in a hurry. There was a dead silence on the field.
I didn't notice much of this though, because the second Braewynn attacked with
the dagger, two things happened to me: first, there was a surge of heat in my
right front pocket where I carried the pouch I had been given all those days
ago. The second was the voice of Elenore speaking in my mind, her voice stern
and commanding.
"Now is the moment, young Bryon. The boon is come due - reach into your pocket
and take in hand that which you find in the pouch!"
I didn't question, even for a moment. With feverish haste I wrenched the pouch
out of my pocket, noticing in passing a glow of red from the pursed end of the
pouch where it was drawn up with a leather thong. I stripped open the top and
shook the pouch over my open palm, and a glowing red stone, about the size of a
hen's egg, dropped into my hand. I closed my fingers around it, and suddenly I
went away.
I was standing in gray, swirling mist. There was nothing around me; I couldn't
tell how far I could see because it was all flat and featureless. From somewhere
far away I could feel Dubhain's desperate efforts to find me, but he was lost
and defeated by the fog.
"Welcome, Bryon. I cannot tell you what a relief it is to see another after all
the long years."
I turned to see who was talking to me, and there was a man of the Lios Alfar
standing there behind me, watching me. He was tall, and his hair was bright red,
hanging down his back in a long, thick braid. He was dressed in elven plate
armor, and a longsword hung at his side in a gemmed scabbard.
"What...no, who...Oh, hell with it. What do you need from me?"
The elf threw his head back and laughed. "I know the feeling, Bryon. Events have
moved very quickly, haven't they? I am Tyliran, once the husband of Lady Sigrid,
whom you know as Elenore, and father of Sandellifer."
I gaped at him for a moment, taking all that in. "Once the husband? What
happened to you? Why are you in this place?"
"I'm dead, Bryon. I was murdered during the Great War - taken from behind by
Braewynn while I knelt to heal a fallen comrade, and slain by the very same
blade that even now kills my son. Only the quick action of my very dear wife
saved my spirit from its hunger, and placed me within the gem, where we are now.
I have been here just a bit over a thousand years, but now...well, with your
kind permission, my wait is at an end."
"What was that dagger, anyway? It shouldn't have been able to do that to Sandy."
"We have little time, Bryon. Though time flows differently here, and all this
happens in but a fraction of the time it would take in the outer world, yet
still time passes. But to answer your question - its name is Dragontooth, and it
is made of cold iron. It is absolutely deadly to any of our kind, for it feeds
on magic and spirit. Sandellifer has very little time, if we would save him."
"You can save Sandy?"
"I can. I will, and avenge my own death in the same stroke."
"But the oaths? I didn't think you could..."
"I am unbound - dead before any oaths were sworn."
"Then do it. What do you need?"
"I need to borrow your body for a time. I hope I can return it unharmed, but one
never knows."
"Just do it."
He grinned fiercely, and the next thing I knew, I was back in the world, and set
aside in my own mind, watching from the sidelines. I could see that I was
dressed suddenly in the same elven plate armor that Tyliran had worn, and the
same narrow, straight, longsword hung at my waist.
I spun and ripped the sword from the scabbard, even as I threw my head back and
howled "Braewynn!"
I watched as my body, firmly under Tyliran's control, ran with impossible grace
across the clearing toward the Drow, sword coming up and back for an
annihilating blow.
Braewynn turned shocked eyes on me as I flowed to the attack. Even in his
surprise he reacted quickly, both rapiers coming up to en guarde. One sweeping
blow from the longsword sheared through both the blades, leaving the Drow
holding nothing but two hilts with a stub of blade sticking out of each. His
mouth fell open in shock, but he didn't have time for even a word as the
longsword whipped around with blinding speed and slammed forward through his
chest. A single word from the spirit that used my body, and an explosion of fire
swept through the blade and raged through the Drow's impaled body, raising the
dark elf up onto his toes. For a brief moment, the bones of his face and skull
shone brightly beneath his skin, limned in raging fire, and a gout of flames
burst from his mouth. Then he slumped back, sliding off the bright, silvron
blade and falling limply to the grass.
"A thousand years I have waited for that moment. The cur is dead, and now we
must save my son." Tyliran's voice was calm, but I could feel the underlying
urgency. "We haven't much time; a thousand years of waiting, and now I am
defeated by seconds." With the same speed as I had run to the attack, I slammed
the sword back into the scabbard and strode to where Sandy's limp body lay
sprawled on the damp grass, one hand lying limply on his thigh where the dark
dagger stood out of his flesh.
Lady Sigrid already knelt on the other side of him, and I went to my knees
across from her, our faces a scant foot apart.
"Tyliran, it consumes him and I cannot stop it. Ysendin strives with all its
might, and it is not enough. It consumes all the magic I attempt - how should we
proceed?"
"Lady wife, I cannot heal this wound. No, do not despair! Though I cannot heal
it, I can delay it. My magic is greater, and it knows my spirit of old. Even now
it reaches for me, and I will not deny it. Perhaps, with enough time, another
can heal what I cannot."
With that, he reached my hand down, touched the black iron crossguard where it
lay against the flesh of his son, and began to feed himself to the blade. I
could feel its ravening, endless hunger beginning to siphon off his spirit, and
how he resisted its pull to give himself a few moments more time, and the agony
it caused him.
"You have been more brave and generous than I have had any reason to expect,
young Bryon. There is a thing that I would do for you, in reward. I see that you
do not know the path of Oneness with your horsebrother, and I would show it to
you. All of your kind must be shown by an older mentor at an early age, and
since you had none, I must suffice. Watch, and see the way."
He made a tiny adjustment in my mind, and suddenly it was there, like a shining
path through my thoughts. Of course! It was so easy - why hadn't I seen it for
myself? As I was studying it, I felt the last of his spirit drain away into the
dagger, and I found myself back in control of my body. He was gone, utterly
consumed. I stared across Sandy's body at Lady Sigrid, watched in astonishment
as she leaned forward and placed her hand on the dagger, saw her stiffen as she
began to feed herself to the blade in willing sacrifice, and then -
"No. This shall not be, sister. Not all need die." I'd been so focused on Lady
Sigrid that I hadn't seen the arrival of the two who stood behind her, outlined
against the bright light of the bonfire. The stranger on the right was a woman
of the Lios Alfar, tall and fair, terrible in her beauty, and radiating magical
might as I'd never seen before. To the left, next to her, stood a Drow woman,
dark and beautiful, radiant in a nimbus of power the equal of the first. Without
even glancing around to see every knee on the field bent to the two of them, I
knew who they were.
"My lady queen, can you save him?"
Without answering Sigrid's question directly, Gloriana turned to the Drow beside
her. "Hail, Maeve. It has been long since last we met, sister. Would you assist
in a healing, as once we did so long ago?"
Maeve stared down at the scene before her for a moment, her dark eyes measuring
each of us. She paused, then said "This young knight has given me a very neat
solution to a thorny problem. Yon carrion heap -" and here she gestured with
graceful disdain at Braewynn's body, "had violated the laws of Unseelie, and
drawn attention to us here in the human realm. I warned him, but he heeded me
not. Perchance I shall assist, as reward for the convenience this young knight
has afforded me. Heal him then, Gloriana, and I shall lend strength as it is
needed."
Immediately Gloriana's hand shot forward and hovered over the hilt of the
dagger, and she began a quiet chant of closing and containing, of withdrawal.
Maeve reached a hand out and laid it on the other Queen's shoulder, and she
began to sing a descant to Gloriana's song, and the slowly building nimbus of
power around the Queen of Seelie brightened, flowing down her hand and centering
on the dark knife.
Slowly, very slowly and resisting mightily, the blade began to relinquish its
hold. After long, tense minutes it slid out of Sandy's thigh and hovered over
him, and when the tip left his flesh, a gout of black, foul-smelling fluid
poured from the rent in his skin, pouring down to pool on the grass beneath and
instantly killing it.
"It is a foul thing, is it not? Even now it strives to return and consume him.
It is an evil all its own, and it has murdered many over the long centuries. I
think its time should end, Maeve."
"Aye, sister. I do not believe we can, of our own power, destroy it. But perhaps
we may send it to a place even it cannot resist. I believe the great heat at the
heart of the sun would overwhelm it."
"Your skill is greater than mine own in that area, Maeve. Of your courtesy, if
you would be kind enough?"
"Right gladly. And no sooner said than done."
One moment the dagger hung suspended, and the next it was gone. I didn't feel
its extinction in the sun, but Maeve looked grimly pleased, and Gloriana
relieved.
"Now then, a bit of healing and the deed is done. Since he is one of yours, and
your gift of healing is greater than mine own, I will assist and marvel at your
skill, sister." Maeve smiled teasingly at Gloriana, seemingly perfectly at ease.
Gloriana smiled back, and held her hand out once again, this time over the ugly,
blackened hole in Sandy's thigh.
As she began again to chant, the lips of the wound - at first peeled back and
blackened as though severely burned - began to lighten in color and draw back
together. Torn muscle, abraded bone and shredded tendons began to knit, writhing
in an ecstasy of regeneration and re-growth. It took only a few minutes, and the
wound closed and the skin healed, leaving only a line of pink scar tissue to
show that it had ever existed.
While all this was happening, I had slid back until I was nearly sitting on
Ralph and Peter's feet, still on my knees and watching intently. Lady Sigrid had
not moved, remaining at Sandy's side with her head bowed, watching the wound
heal. Now she rose to her feet and bowed deeply to her queen, and then turned
and bowed only slightly less deeply to the queen of Unseelie.
"I have no words to express my gratitude, my Lady. Both I and House Agryvaine
stand in your debt for the aid that you have rendered to us this day." Though
tears stood on her pale cheeks, Sigrid radiated pride and dignity as she
addressed the queen of the the rival court.
"Nonsense, dear Lady. I have known the special agony that the death of a child
brings, and would not wish such on any. Had I acted more swiftly once before, my
own child might still be with me. That aside, this young knight has done me a
service, though he knew it not. I still owe him for that beyond a mere assist
with healing, and so here is the resolve of my heart: all the former Duke of
Athelon's holdings are hereby forfeit to the Crown. I cede all of those holdings
that exist in the human realms to yon knight, Sandellifer, to hold and dispose
of as he sees fit. Further, I have ordered all the children the late Duke had
congress with to be gathered and held in a central place, with appropriate
guards. I understand that you will be responsible for their recovery, Lady
Sigrid. I want them to disappear. I do not wish to revisit this issue. Are we
agreed? Yes? Then all debt between us is discharged, and perhaps you will think
a bit less harshly of the Queen of Unseelie in the future, no?" Even in the deep
formality of the moment, the irrepressible and sly smile of the Dark Queen shone
momentarily, and Sigrid smiled wanly and nodded.
"As you will it, Lady, so let it be."
"Even so, Lady Sigrid. Do not delay in taking charge of your new wards, Lady.
They are many, and I fear that the guardians I set over them may grow...hmm,
restless." And again the Dark Lady's smile shone out, tinged with just a hint of
malice. "Then I feel that we are finished here, are we not, Gloriana? Really, my
sister, we must meet when there is not a crisis at hand...but perhaps not too
soon, eh?" And with a bow of her head to her sister sovereign and to Lady
Sigrid, she turned and walked away, back to the Unseelie side of the pavilion,
and then disappeared with a wave of her hand.
When the dark Queen had disappeared, it seemed that Sigrid reached the end of
her strength. She seemed to slump a little, and tears began to roll down her
cheeks to fall on the bodice of her blue and white gown, now stained and muddy
at the knees where she had knelt on the grass.
"Come sister, all is well. Disaster has been averted, and your son lives and
will thrive once again." Gloriana stepped forward and enfolded Lady Sigrid in a
deep and long hug, holding her head to her shoulder. After a long moment, she
released her hold and stepped back, but laid her hand along Sigrid's cheek. "It
has ever been your way to hold all inside you, Sigrid. Pain, joy, grief and
pleasure cannot be denied and contained forever, and you must release them. Know
that your steadfast loyalty and support is never taken for granted, and that
when I am wearied by the travails of court, you are a bright place in my
thoughts. Would that I had the pleasure of your presence in my court more often,
but I shall not command it, only ask it by your leave. It would be a comfort to
me."
"My Lady, you shall have it, as you have already, to the least and last measure,
all my loyalty and faith."
"Those, as Queen, I command. But I would have not just your loyalty and faith,
but your friendship, and that is beyond my command. That is what I would ask for
in greater measure, Lady. I hope that it may be so." She gazed long and deeply
into Lady Sigrid's eyes, and then smiled. "I, too, must take my leave. I hope to
see you again and soon, dear friend."
She turned then, and waved to Torrel and Daindraen. "My lords, attend. We must
return to court. Farewell, Sigrid. Take care of your son." And then, she
disappeared.