Song of the Fairy Queen (40 page)

John of Orland – their newest ally – arrived a little tardy.

The tent had become more crowded than any of them had ever known it.

Which was a good sign.

“I think we’re complete,” Oryan said, as Geoffrey went around the room passing out cups of wine. He raised his to all of them. “Thank you, all of you, for all you’ve done and all that you have yet to do.”

A little surprised, everyone nodded.

“For those of you who weren’t there, or don’t remember, tonight is the anniversary of the fall of Caernarvon. It was one year ago today we were set on this path. It hasn’t been an easy one. Some of you may have had second thoughts. Some of you had no choice. Whatever, we are now on it together.”

There was no other choice. Exile perhaps, but certainly Haerold would never suffer either Oryan or Gawain to live and threaten his throne. Death by assassination would have been their most likely fate. Of the others, none would have served well under Haerold’s yoke, most would have been marked for death in any case.

“So, it’s one year later,” he said. “But I don’t call you together to dwell on the past, but to look to the future.”

Oryan glanced at Morgan.

Who nodded.

“Our numbers are growing. Certainly more are joining our cause.” Morgan looked to the three main rebel leaders. “We still aren’t great enough in numbers to face Haerold on the field of battle, but his numbers are dwindling. Desertion is heavy among his regular troops, some due to the harsh conditions, others flock to our cause.”

That was news to most of those in the room.

Morgan had just returned from a meeting with Jacob.

For a moment he was silent, still a little disturbed. There had been something different about Jacob this time, but Morgan couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe he was just tired. He’d verified the information, though, so he knew it was good.

“Haerold is having to rely more and more on hired mercenaries, the Hunters and his allies among the Northmen.”

“They,” Corvin said, “are winning no friends in the north either.”

Morgan nodded grimly.

“We’ve heard and seen the same,” Morgan said. “We’ve all seen the refugees.”

Heads nodded as faces grew grim.

Everyone had seen the refugees streaming out of the north in response to the raiding there.

It pained Morgan that after the years spent defending those lands they’d had to abandon them, but there had been no choice. First Haerold had left them to their own devices and then he had virtually ceded the territory to the Northmen. There was little chance Haerold would ever get it back and he was too blind to see that once those lands were settled, the Northmen would turn their eyes south once again.

That was for another time.

Morgan took a breath, looking around the room at the others as Oryan moved quietly up behind Kyri.

“The one advantage we have,” Morgan said, “is the aid of Kyri and her people. Without them, communication would be far more difficult and they’ve been invaluable in a fight. It hasn’t been without cost for them or us.”

That first raid on the Fairy village had only been the harbinger of things to come. It had been followed by others, as well as raids like it on villages near rebel territory that were suspected of supporting them.

Softly, Oryan said, at Kyri’s back, worriedly, “Morgan looks tired.”

Kyri sighed, glancing back at Oryan over her shoulder. She nodded, concerned as well. Morgan did look tired.

“I do what I can, but who else is there?” she asked.

Oryan sighed.

There was no one else, not in the field where he needed Morgan to be.

Oryan could make certain Morgan had the funds he needed, the supplies and horses, the support. He could gather reports and information, serve as the central contact point, but he couldn’t do what Morgan did in the field. Not without exposing himself to capture.

And if he were caught the rebellion was over and with it any chance to reclaim the throne until or unless Gawain reached his majority without being found or caught himself.

Only Kyri came remotely close in ability and experience but she wasn’t Morgan and she was Fairy. Men wouldn’t follow her.

Gently, Kyri ran a hand down Morgan’s back because she knew he liked the contact, he liked knowing she was there. She also willed him strength and a little energy, wishing there was some other way she could make things easier for him.

At the soothing touch some of Morgan’s tension dropped away and he brushed a kiss over her forehead as he drew her close.

Having circled the room, giving a word of thanks to each, Oryan said, “If nothing else, our efforts haven’t been entirely in vain. Haerold now concentrates on us and so, while leaving the north to fend for itself, he’s left Mormont and some others alone and untouched. That’s not enough. We need Haerold off my throne. We need to remove his foot from the throats of the populace, rescind his taxes and stop the conscriptions. So, to that end…”

Gesturing to Morgan, Oryan stepped back again.

“We need to become more organized even than we have been,” Morgan said. “We need to start training as fighting units, not individual groups. Where we can, we should be drilling, practicing the kind of military skills necessary to fight Haerold’s mercenaries. In the meantime, we can’t leave off the harassment of his troops, the confiscation of his supplies and we need to keep annoying the tax collectors.”

All of which meant Morgan would be busier than ever.

Rolling his head on his shoulders Morgan tried to focus. The report in front of him didn’t want to make sense. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, as much from trying to read the print in front of him than from lack of sleep. He sat back against the tree for a moment, the papers balanced on his knee, looking out across the rolling hills to rest his eyes.

It was cool, the earliest days of spring, when pockets of snow huddled in the shadows but the first flowers nodded, small snowdrops, golden daffodils…

If he wasn’t tired physically, he was in spirit. It sometimes seemed he took two steps forward and one back. More and more recruits joined the rebels and some he recruited for the Marshals, but Haerold was also increasing his attacks on the villages, the rebels, and the Fairy. Some of the Hunters had been set to scent, track, and hunt down individual people, himself, Oryan and Kyri included, so it had become a deadly game of cat and mouse.

The light at the end of the tunnel, however, was growing, if only by inches and not yards.

Stretching, he tried to work out the kinks in his shoulders.

He missed Kyri, knowing she would have sensed his discomfort and worked on those shoulders, her strong, long-fingered hands kneading and rubbing until the pain was gone. It had been too long since he’d seen her. But then even two days between meetings sometimes seemed too long.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his report, until he heard the sound of wings and looked up as Dorien settled to the ground, his expression alarming, frightened, worried and furious…

“Haerold has Galan,” Dorien said shortly.

Galan.

The thought of the strong but gentle Fairy Healer in the hands of Haerold’s people made Morgan wince. And then there was Kyri…she would be frantic…heartsick….

Everyone in earshot heard and the call was repeated as Morgan’s folk shot to their feet, rushing to saddle their horses. Morgan didn’t even have to give the order. No one questioned it. Many if not most of them owed Galan their very lives.

That Kyri was already on her way was something Morgan never questioned.

“Where and how far?” Morgan asked, swinging up onto his horse.

“All I know now is west and a little north of here,” Dorien said, “Kyri will tell me more when she finds him.”

The cry and shock had ripped through her like a knife and Kyri spun in place instinctively, her eyes going north, to Galan. It shivered through her even as she ran, taking two steps before launching herself off the edge of her aerie, with Dorien right behind her. Solon gathered others…

Galan, who’d gone in response to another, different, cry for help from one of the rebel bands. They’d been attacked by a squad of Haerold’s forces, had taken casualties before they’d beaten them back. It had been an emergency, with so many wounded. She’d heard from him only hours before. The worst of the wounded had been Healed, he was tired, but there were a few more to see.

Haerold had Galan. Sweet, patient Galan.

Galan’s pain battered her as she sensed that of all her people, but she forced herself to keep her mind clear. It would do him no good if she lost her wits.

This was why she was Queen.

She sent Dorien to find Morgan.

It would take time to reach Galan, less time on wing than if they rode, but far more tiring. She had to balance one against the other, although every Fairy with her was fired with fear and fury. That would carry them farther.

Her sense of Galan wavered a little and Kyri flinched a little, knowing what it meant.

Iron, he had iron on him.

Her wrists ached in sympathy, remembering the burning from long ago.

They were running out of time.

Galan hadn’t seen the net, it was so late and the sun was westering, blinding him, when suddenly something had shot up in front of him as he flew at treetop level to keep from being seen. He’d tried to avoid it, but he’d been too late, crashing into it, trying to back out of it even as it came down over him, dragging him down to the ground.

They came out of nowhere, out of the growing afternoon shadows – a Hunter and a number of men.

Drawing his sword, he tried to cut himself free before they reached him, sending the cry of alarm out to Kyri even as they bore him down, pinning him to the ground.

The Hunter grinned, its tongue lolling, his teeth bared and held up a pair of clanking iron manacles…

Galan fought, desperately, as they shackled him.

Even so, they held him face down, pinned to the ground…

Pain came with the sharp snap of bone, horrifying, unimaginable…it shattered him…
no
…

More came, to take him away…

It was the pain that gave Kyri Galan’s location. Knowing where Galan felt it, Kyri’s stomach clenched in horror.

One of the others with her cried out in wordless protest.

Kyri steeled herself, tears in her eyes, forcing herself to concentrate, to hold it in, to stay focused… and then she found them, she saw them in the distance.

Fury burned through her, but she kept her wits about her enough to send word to Morgan through Dorien.

Mind to mind, there was no filtering, Dorien saw what Kyri saw. The shock of it nearly undid him. He faltered, shuddering, nearly falling out of the sky, crying out…

Alarmed, Morgan looked up, but Dorien shook his head, his dark eyes sick.

“Hurry,” was all Dorien said.

It took only that look in those usually imperturbable Fairy eyes to make Morgan realize something was far more seriously wrong than Galan being captured. Dorien was usually so unflappable. Morgan didn’t question it, nor did any of the others, all of them spurred their horses into a gallop.