Windmaster's Bane (33 page)

David’s breath caught in his throat.
“Exiled?”

The Faery’s face hardened. “Exiled. He leaves tonight. Lugh no longer cares what damage the Windy One has done in your World, he only wants him out of Tir-Nan-Og. Meanwhile, he has forbidden the rest of us to interfere more with mortals. He feels too much has passed between the Worlds already. I court his wrath simply by coming here.”

“But aren’t you interfering now, just by talking to me?”

“I fear for the life of my child, more than I fear my king.”

“So what difference would it make, then, if you were to interfere again?”

“Talk is one thing, action is another. The first Lugh might forgive, the second he would not. I play a game as dangerous as the one you play, and for higher stakes. Do not forget that.”

David nodded grimly.

The woman said nothing at all. He took a deep breath. “Well, then,” he said thoughtfully. “If you can talk but not act, tell me two things, and I’ll promise you not to harm the changeling.”

“Ask. But I warn you, I may not be able to answer. Ailill’s Power is involved here, and I truly do not know its limits.”

“How may I drive off this”—he gestured at the banshee—“thing?”

The Faery woman cast a scornful glance at the apparition. “I can banish the spirit for a time, but she will return if your kinsman does not recover. She is bound to do that.”

“Unless Uncle Dale is healed?”

The woman nodded. “It is as I have said.”

“You’re certain you can’t heal him?”

Again a nod.

“And there’s nothing
I
can do?”

“Nothing.”

David considered this for a moment.

“You had another question?” the woman snapped impatiently.

“Is there
no
way I can get my brother back?”

“No way that would do you any
good….
Fool of a mortal, do you not think that I would tell you, if it were anything you could possibly achieve? Ailill’s quarrel with Nuada and Lugh is none of my doing. I hold no ill will toward you and your kin. I want only my child’s safety.
I…”

“Wait a minute!” David interrupted suddenly. “Did you just say you would tell me if it was anything I could achieve? Does that mean there
is
something that can be done?”

The woman grimaced—a strange expression on her inhumanly beautiful face.
“No…
it is impossible. The changeling now wears the substance of your world as well as the form, and even so does your brother wear the substance of Faerie. Only by bringing them face to face in the bodies they now wear might they return to their proper Worlds.”

“Damn,” David swore. “So all you have to do is get the real Little Billy back from Ailill—or take this one to him? Seems like you could do that. Why haven’t you?”

“Do you think that if it were that simple I would not have done so?” the woman flared. “I told you. For one thing, my child would soon go mad if I returned him to Faery and did not effect the change very quickly. For another thing, I respect the law of my king. For a third, finding your true brother is no simple thing. Ailill has hidden him so that I cannot find him—perhaps in some secret place, perhaps in a form not his own. He could be wearing your brother as a ring upon his hand, for all I know.”

“I’d know,” said David.

“Ha!” the woman exclaimed scornfully. “If I cannot find him, do you think you could?”

“I could try. I’m supposed to be protected, after all.”

“It is impossible, I say. The way to Faerie is closed to you.”

David’s brow creased thoughtfully. “Is there no other way? Couldn’t Lugh grant me a boon or something? Couldn’t I go to the Straight Track and ask him?”

“You might stand there a thousand years and get no answer. Lugh is angry, as angry as I have ever seen him, because of the contention that has been caused in his realm because of you. What you desire might possibly be within his power, but he will not listen to you. He will not listen to mortal men at all.”

“Nobody?”

“Among mortals Lugh will only listen to heroes. To them only will he grant boons.”

“So I need to become a hero, is that it?” David said sarcastically. “Well,
that
sounds simple enough.”

Fire flashed angrily in the woman’s eyes. “Say no such things in ignorance, boy. There
is
a Trial of Heroes, but it has been a very great while since a mortal man has risked it. Still, if you would undertake it, you must act tonight, before Ailill leaves Lugh’s realm, and with him the knowledge you seek.”

“We both seek, you mean.”

“You have no time for talk, mortal lad,” the woman broke in sharply. “There is a chance—a bare chance—you might succeed, and thus fulfill both our desires. But if it
is
your intention to dare the Trial of Heroes, you must act now. I myself will relay the word to those in Faerie, for the Trial is a thing ancient and sacred, and even Lugh must abide by it. Half of one hour I will give you to decide, and then I must be gone. If you truly would assay the Trial, tell me, and I will set the Rite in motion.”

David took a deep breath. “But how will I know what to do? What kind of trial are we talking about? I mean, I’m not a hero, I’m not even an adult. If I thought it was something I
could
do, I’d do it, just to have an end to all this—this
Faery
stuff.”

“The Trial consists of three parts,” the woman said. “A Trial of Knowledge, a Trial of Courage, and a Trial of Strength. No more than this may I say. Little more than this do I know.”

“But…”

“Time passes quickly, boy, and death hovers near—or have you forgotten? I await your decision.” The Faery woman drew herself up to her full height and folded her arms.

They both faced the banshee then. She had dwindled to a mere patch of pale light, not unlike a spot of moonlight.

The Faery woman said something in a tongue David did not expect to understand, and the glimmer winked out.

“She has made a long trip in vain,” the woman observed.

“I hope she doesn’t have to do it again,” David replied, as he withdrew the knife from the changeling’s throat and slipped it carefully into his belt. He picked up the limp form and cast one last look toward where the Faery woman had stood, but she too was gone.

He turned back into the house then, leaning for a long, breathless moment against the doorjamb, realizing suddenly that he had a serious decision to make—the most serious in his life, for two lives hinged directly on it—and little time to make it in.

Alec raised an inquiring eyebrow as David reentered the kitchen.

David glanced around the room in confusion. “Where’s Liz?” he panted breathlessly, as he handed the changeling to his friend and laid the knife on the kitchen table.

Alec inclined his head toward the hall. “Soon as the light vanished, she went to check on Uncle Dale.” He paused. “How’d it go?”

“I have a
reprieve…
I think.”

Alec gaped incredulously. “You mean you really accomplished something with that stunt?”

“The changeling’s mother came; we
reached…
an accommodation…didn’t you see?” David added sadly.

Alec shook his head. “Not much. But what do you mean by ‘an accommodation’? Do you mean you may have a solution?”

David nodded slowly. “I think so, but it’s not over yet. I have a decision to make—fast—and I have to see Uncle Dale.”

He met Liz coming out of Uncle Dale’s room. “Uncle Dale seems to be getting a little better,” she said. “Is
the…she…
you know, gone?”

“Until she comes back—which, I hope, will not be for a long, long time. Now come on, I have work to do. I have to go look in on Uncle Dale one last
time…
and then I have to go out to the Straight Track.”

“The Straight
Track…
?”

David flashed them a guarded glance. “I don’t have much time, folks, I’ll tell you as soon as I can.”

“You know, I never did get a chance to read Uncle Dale,” mused Liz as they quietly opened the door into the old man’s room. He was sitting propped up in bed where Liz had left him, and though his eyes were closed, a sort of vague agitation about him told David he wasn’t sleeping.

“Uncle Dale,” he called softly. “Uncle
Dale…
Liz, turn on that little light over there.” He motioned to a night stand. “Uncle Dale, can you hear me?”

The old man opened his left eye and tried to speak, but the words were slurred, indistinguishable.

“Don’t try to talk, just nod.”

The old man nodded; a jerky motion, like the movements of the banshee.

“Uncle Dale, do you have any idea about what’s been going on with the banshee and all?”

“David!” Liz cried.

“As close to that world as he’s been tonight, I think he’s aware
anyway….
You know about the banshee, don’t you, Uncle Dale?”

The old man nodded again.

“Okay, then. Good.
Look…
I may have a way to cure you, if it’ll work. I just don’t know—but I’m going to make the attempt. And if I
fail…
well, you won’t be any worse off than you are, all right?”

Uncle Dale looked at him and nodded again. David saw the muscles in his scrawny neck and jaw grow taut. The old man’s mouth contorted awkwardly, and a string of grunts and groans passed his lips, but he finally managed to wring out one single intelligible phrase.
“Go…now…
or I die.” He closed his eyes again and fell back against the pillows.

David had no further need for decisions.

Chapter XIV: The Lord of the Trial

Alec tapped gently on the screen door and then eased out onto the back porch, where David was sitting on the steps staring down at the yard. David had explained to him and Liz about the Trial of Heroes, and then he had asked for a moment alone to clear his head. “You ready now?” Alec asked.

“Not really.” David shook his head and glanced sideways at his friend. “Know what I’ve been going through now, don’t you?”

Alec shook his own head in turn. “No, but I don’t think I ever will. It’s too much, Davy—too much to put together this fast.”

David sat up straight, squared his shoulders, and clapped his hands on his knees decisively. “Well, I can’t put this off any longer, I’ve got to be going—though I haven’t a clue as to how I’m going to get through this.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.” Alec extended a hand toward David to help him up.

A flush of anger crossed David’s face as he took Alec’s hand. “We? Who is
we
?”

Alec looked surprised. “Why, you and me and Liz, of course; who’d you think?”

David froze where he stood. “Alec, don’t you see what’s going on, yet? Don’t you remember what I’ve been saying to anybody who would listen for the last two weeks? It’s the ring, Alec, the damned ring. It protects
me.
Even though I don’t have it, it still protects
me
”—David thumped his chest—“against the Faeries. But it doesn’t protect
you,
Alec—or Liz, or anybody else
unless I have it on.
You know about Little Billy and Uncle Dale now; you could find one of those magic arrows sticking out of your chest just as easy as Uncle Dale did.”

“We’re your friends, Davy,” Alec said quietly.

David smiled grimly. “No, Alec, this is my fight.”

“Dammit, Sullivan, I’ve already had one fight with you tonight ’cause I was wrong. Am I gonna have to have another one with you now ’cause I’m right? Let me tell you one thing, Master Sullivan: Protected or not, you confront the Sidhe on their own territory—take the battle to them, as you’re threatening to do—I’m gonna be right there by your side, and so will Liz.”

David had slumped against one of the porch posts, hands in his pockets, still gazing at the yard. Alec laid an arm across his shoulders and drew him toward the door. “What’re you crying for, brother?” he asked.

David looked up and smiled. “’Cause I’m not alone anymore.” But he knew he could not let them go.

*

“I really wish you folks would change your minds, both of you,” David said a moment later as he riffled the kitchen drawers in search of the longest, sharpest knives he could find. Probably they would be of little use, he thought, but maybe they would provide psychological protection.

“I mean, I appreciate your concern and all,” he continued. “But this is for
real,
folks. You may be risking your lives—has that really sunk into you? Even your good Baptist soul, Liz.”

“We’ve just been over this,” said Alec, reaching out to grasp his friend’s arm so that David turned to look at him. Alec looked him straight in the eyes. “If
you
go, Liz and I go. Is that clear?”

David didn’t say anything, but he studied Alec’s face for a long, long time, and then he looked at Liz.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, kids,” he said softly.

“I doubt you do, either, David Sullivan,” Liz shot back. “Besides, the fortuneteller told me and Alec to keep an eye on you—and you wouldn’t want to disappoint a lady, would you?”