The Dark Thorn (64 page)

“The Cailleach damaged much,” Lord Aife agreed sadly.

“It is our role to put our affairs in order and transition out of that damage,” the Queen said. “How soon may we leave these environs, Mastersmith?”

“The burial proceeds as quickly as it can, my Queen,” Govannon replied, his demeanor weary. “The reclamation of all iron and steel items has continued all morning but it will be some time before we may fully inter our kin to nature. Late tomorrow. Or perhaps early the next day.”

“I see. Unfortunate. The rains will come as we travel home.”

“What of the Graal that started all of this?” Lord Eigion asked.

Lugh stood, still wearing his scarred armor. “When my men overcame the force the Usurper left behind in his city, we ventured into the castle. Women and children were mostly left behind, posing no threat, even if Lord Evinnysan attempted a defense. With the aid of Lord Faric and his coblynau, who see far better in the darkness, we traversed into the catacombs of dungeons as Knight McAllister related. I will not speak of the unnatural breeding pens we discovered, but the chamber where McAllister reported the Graal to be was nothing but a lake, the cup not found. I have my men hunting the plains surrounding Caer Llion in hopes of coming across it and the person who took it.”

“Perhaps one of the prisoners Caswallawn freed during our escape from the dungeons stole it,” Richard said. “Or a group of soldiers pilfering the city before the Tuatha de Dannan entered it.”

“I do not know. It is not likely,” Lugh said. “From what my men and I could discern, one person took the cup. Templar Knights were slaughtered at every turn from the dungeons. Signs pointed at one highly trained individual. From there, nothing was found.”

“We have seen the Graal can be used for terrible evil,” Aife said. “Finding it should be a top priority.”

“It must not be allowed to enter into unknown hands,” the Morrigan said, nodding in agreement. “The Rhedewyr will scour Annwn. And with them, my best and most able trackers.”

“Why does not the Heliwr search for it?” Caswallawn beseeched.

All eyes turned on Richard.

“You are quick to put the knight through another quite dangerous ordeal, Lord Caswallawn,” Lord Finnbhennach interrupted, his horns gleaming beneath the fey light of the orbs. “Especially after he helped return your stolen kingdom.”

“I have no intention of disgracing his gift by suggesting he owes us more,” Lord Caswallawn said.

“No, no, it is all right,” Richard said. “I would do as Caswallawn suggested if I could. When I reentered Annwn from Rome the first thing I did was try to discern if it remained in Caer Llion. I failed. The Dark Thorn seemed confused, pulled in three different directions. I cannot explain why. One day I may aid in the retrieval of the Holy Grail. Until I learn more from Merle about the staff, it may be some time.”

Frowns and dissatisfied grunts filled the tent.

“It will be as you say, Knight McAllister,” the Morrigan said before turning to Aife. “How fare the Rhedewyr then? Are they recovering from their stampede?”

“The Rhedewyr graze upon the grasslands to the west,” Aife reported, returned entirely to her nude human form. “Almost two dozen died in the initial rush against the army of Caer Llion, more than a hundred injured. Kegan and his remaining son aid them now. They will be ready for whatever you require, my Queen.”

“What will become of Caer Llion?” Lord n’Hagr rumbled.

“It will go to the remaining family of Lord Gerallt,” the Morrigan said. “First, I must say with great sadness, I am sorrowed by the loss of the lord and his daughter. Without men and women of honor, the Tuatha de Dannan would barely have anything to trust in mankind. They will be missed and never forgotten. Caer Llion shall exist as a monument to Lord Gerallt and a center of power here in the south. The remaining descendents of man—including the Templar Knights who survived the battle—will have sanctuary within its walls and the plains about it.”

“Lord Gerallt leaves behind no direct heir,” Snedeker said sadly. “I believe he had a younger brother, though, with a family of his own.”

“If Lord Caswallawn can abstain from Govannon’s brew, I wish him to help guide Lord Gerallt’s brother until he is fit to rule on his own,” the Queen said. “Lord Caswallawn, do you accept this great honor?”

“I do, my Queen,” Caswallawn said.

“It is settled then.” The Morrigan nodded to those around her. “Caer Llion will maintain the peace in the south. Lord Fafnir, his grandson Faric, and the coblynau will once again entreat trade relations between Caer Glain and the rest of Annwn, as is their right now that they have returned to the Seelie Court. Lord Latobius, his brethren, and their Fynach caretakers will undoubtedly remain in Tal Ebolyon where they have ever resided.”

“We will continue in our snowy reaches as long as we are able,” Latobius assured. “It is home.”

“Lord Latobius, those gathered here owe you and your kin a debt as well,” the Morrigan added. “If it had not been for you and your intervention, our demise would have been at hand.”

“Took him long enough to arrive,” Caswallawn snorted.

Everyone looked around uncomfortably. Richard wanted to strike Caswallawn. It appeared even after the survival of the Tuatha de Dannan and the expulsion of Philip, old wounds refused heal.

“My people die, Lord Caswallawn,” Latobius whispered. “Surely, you of all the lords present know what that means. Each life among my people is far more precious than I can relate. Nael will heal in time. The wounds visited upon him are mending in a shaded glen not far from here, and we were fortunate to not lose him. To die is to give meaning to that death, but when a people are as few as we are, no death holds meaning.”

“I did not mean to offend,” Caswallawn conceded.

“It is ever in your nature to do so, Lord Caswallawn,” Latobius said sadly. “I decided it best to view the battle and its progress from a safe distance before offering our might. After all, no reason to become involved if Tal Ebolyon was not needed.”

“It was,” Lord Eigion pointed out. “Those sitting here are very much in your debt.”

“You have my oath to discover what ails dragonkind,” Richard reminded the dragon lord.

Latobius nodded to the knight in appreciation.

“Richard McAllister and Bran Ardall,” the Queen addressed, moving on. “What is it you desire from the Seelie Court, though I cannot offer title or land?”

“There is nothing you can give us, Queen,” Richard replied.

The Morrigan nodded. “Then a favor at another time. What will come of the portal in Rome? A Knight of the Yn Saith has perished there, which saddens us all a great deal for his sacrifice. It will take time for Myrddin Emrys to promote a replacement.”

“The Kreche will oversee the portal from this side until such a time he is relieved by a new Knight of the Yn Saith,” Richard said.

“A formidable warrior. I am pleased to hear it,” she nodded, her eyes hard. “Men from the Church of your world were a part of the battle, having come into these plains before the battle had even begun. They aided the Tuatha de Dannan, although I believe they did so at their own gain. They must never again bring their beliefs or their weapons into Annwn.”

“The Seven and I will do what we can to prevent that.”

“I am sure once you return to your home and meet with Myrddin Emrys that your future will become clearer for all,” the Morrigan said. “Long have our two worlds lacked a Heliwr to give balance. We must restore that which we have lost. It will take your help and it will require strength. I hope your knighthood lasts decades.”

“I will be what I decide,” Richard said noncommittally. “Bran and I will begin our trip back to Seattle this afternoon. Before doing so, however, I will contact the surviving members of the Yn Saith and inform them of the events that have transpired here today. I will do what I can to honor the two worlds.”

“I know, Richard McAllister,” the Morrigan said with a brief smile. “Do any lords here wish to speak?”

Silence filled the tent.

“The Seelie Court will separate in two days,” the Queen ordained. “May many days of peace be visited upon Annwn.”

A chilly breeze ruffled unruly hair as Richard stared across the water.

It was a crisp late fall afternoon; the maples lining the Seattle waterfront were skeletal. Clear skies lorded over the Pacific Northwest, giving a rare view of the sun as it dipped toward the snow-covered Olympic Mountains in the far west, but the light wind stole what little warmth the day offered. Cars rumbled behind him, some upon the Viaduct overhead while others ran along Alaskan Way at his back. The rush hour had begun, the day at its end, and downtown employees were making their way home. None of them had any idea what had transpired in Annwn, their lives kept blissfully ignorant to the truth buried in the bowels of Pioneer Square nearby.

Returned to Seattle, Richard already felt more at ease than he had in a long time.

“A beautiful day,” Bran noted at his side.

Richard leaned against the rail of the pier and folded his hands. “Elizabeth and I used to walk here in the summertime. Eating ice cream. Laughing at the tourists.”

“Good memories then.”

Richard drew in the salted air. “Yeah.”

They both went quiet, not looking at the other, each lost to his thoughts. Richard missed Elizabeth, the ache within almost unbearable in one of their familiar places. The confrontation with Arawn had reopened harsh wounds, and although Richard had ended the creature ultimately responsible for the slaying of his wife, a large void remained that the knight now sadly realized would never fully heal.

Loneliness would always be a part of him.

“No secrets between us,” Bran said then, his gauntleted hand hidden within the pocket of a coat given him by the fey. “If I am to fully take on this role of portal knight, I need to know I can at least trust someone. I want it to be you.”

“I will not be Merle, Bran.”

The boy nodded. “I have to know, why didn’t you share the truth about the identity of John Lewis Hugo with the Seelie Court? Did they not have a right to know, Arawn being one of the fey lords and all?”

It took Richard a few moments to organize his thoughts.

“Arawn was well respected in the Seelie Court,” he began, watching a sea gull float on the breeze above the docks. “He was quite powerful, like the Morrigan, and the other lords followed his direction often. When Philip imprisoned the essence of Lord Arawn and all his knowledge of Annwn within John Lewis Hugo, the Seelie Court lost a driving force from their midst. For centuries the Tuatha de Dannan were without Arawn, and for centuries the benevolence of the Morrigan was all they knew.”

Richard paused. “Arawn was broken, or at least some part of him was broken. I saw it in his eyes. Madness had set in after struggling with the will and soul of John Lewis Hugo. That insanity made him unpredictable. Arawn would have done what Philip planned but for different reasons. He wished to bring the Tuatha de Dannan back to prominence. He wanted retribution for millennia of Church aggression against his kin. He would have become as fanatical and dangerous as Philip, the Church, or any religion willing to sacrifice lives for a particular brand of truth.

“To tell the Seelie Court of this would have planted a seed I’d rather not see grow into future hardships for you and I. If the lords discovered Arawn meant to return them to the Misty Isles, who knows what that seed could become. Look at the Court. Caswallawn believes strongly in restoring the glory of his house. How far would he take that? Lugh controls the Long Hand, who miss their Elven brethren in our world. Even Lord Latobius may believe the antidote to what ails his kin is in England where they once were fertile. Any one of those lords would reenter our world if they thought they could do it.

“And since Arawn came so close to accomplishing that very feat, I feel it best to not evoke such possibilities,” Richard finished, shrugging. “You hide the truth then,” Bran said. “As Merle would.”

“Perhaps,” Richard said, thinking on it. “Perhaps I’m more like the old man than I wish to admit.”

“The Church. The fey. Plantagenet and those he led,” Bran snorted. “All of them were willing to kill thousands for what they believe. Even on the street, nothing like that happens. This is the insanity I’ve been brought into, eh?”

“Thousands can die at the behest of the world’s powerful, yes,” Richard said. “But make no mistake, even the low man can succumb to extremism. I have learned over my life that the simplest and most well meaning thoughts and emotions can become an evil—whether they be from the man on the street or the highest religious Church member in the world. It does not matter. Religion becomes fanaticism. Love can become jealousy. Food and drink can become gluttony. Taking anything to the extreme is an evil.”

“Like your need to avenge the death of your wife,” Bran noted, his eyes piercing Richard’s own. “No matter if your leaving put the rest of us in Annwn in danger.”

“Like your feelings for Deirdre despite knowing her for only hours,” Richard retorted pointedly.

The boy stared hard at Richard before looking away, the pain he felt etched deep on his features. The older knight watched him before turning back to the Sound. Neither spoke. They both knew they had stung the other; they both knew the truth the other spoke.