Chapter 6
Aeval was standing in the snow, waiting for us.
She did not look amused. I curtsied deeply, after elbowing Delilah
in the side. She hastily gave a low bow.
“Enough. You are late. It will not happen again,
Camille, especially when you join my Court. And now, you are sure
you wish to cash in your marker? On a mere mortal?” Her gaze held
mine. She was gossamer and silk, she was dark sparkling fire and
the hazy mist of the winter night.
“My Lady, I will not disappoint you. And yes, I
am sure.” I pressed my fingers to my forehead, in an ancient
salute. “What do we need to do?”
Aeval, surrounded by a guard party of five,
walked over to where the portal had been. “It is here—I can see the
signature. Camille, come.”
Obediently, I stepped up to her. She placed her
hands on my shoulders and stood behind me, then with a little gasp
leaned close. “I feel iron in your presence. You are crafty. You
will make a formidable acolyte. But for now, look with your soul,
look with your magic. Look through the Moon Mother’s eyes.”
I unfocused my vision and let my mind drift,
gazing at the spot through a hazy blur. And then, I caught it—there
it was, a sparkling signature. The portal we’d seen the day before
hadn’t disappeared at all. It was there, unseen to mortal eyes,
unseen to the Fae not looking for it. The blue vortex crackled and
snapped, and behind us, I heard Delilah gasp.
“I can see it,” she said.
“Your sister and I brought it to the forefront.”
Aeval patted me on the back. “Good job. You have much power—though
I can feel where some of the synapses are skewed. You can never fix
them, you were born that way, but there are ways to work around the
misfires. As time goes on, you will learn, my daughter. You will
learn.”
Her voice was still cool and aloof, but beneath
the icy exterior I heard the soft opening of a door. I turned to
her, smiling, and for the first time she truly smiled back. Her
eyes were dark, spinning orbs of power and glamour, and in their
reflection, I saw myself. Half human, but also half-Fae. Even
though my father had disowned me, I was his daughter, and there was
no denying his heritage.
“Now what?”
Aeval motioned for me to join Delilah. “I will
open the portal so you can venture inside. I will give Camille the
charm to reopen it when you need to—when you’re ready to return.
Hopefully you will find your friend. And with hope, you will
survive what lies within. The powers there are deep and dark; they
are ancient moss on still older trees. They are powers that can
match the Black Beast. Be cautious, girls, for you do not know half
what you think you do, and snares and traps are sown deep within
the heart of the Elder Fae.”
As we stepped aside, she held out her hands
toward the portal. The vortex shimmered and, like an iris door off
some science fiction show, slowly swirled open. I could feel the
warm scent of summer and peat bogs and once again, the feeling of
red eyes gazing at me latched hold and I couldn’t shake it
off.
I glanced at Delilah. “Should we do this alone?”
But Aeval had bid us come alone, and we had a chance now. “I guess
that’s a moot question.”
“Chase is in there. Let’s go. We can always come
back for reinforcements if we can’t handle what’s in there.” She
sucked in a deep breath. “We owe Chase a lot.”
“Yes, we do.” I turned to Aeval. “You said you’d
teach me the charm?”
She nodded and for the first time looked
hesitant. “I do not want to lose you, Camille. Be cautious. Be
wary. Do not trust our kind—you grew up among the full-blooded Fae.
You, yourself, are half-Fae. You know what we are capable of doing
if we allow ourselves to.” Leaning close, she whispered in my ear.
“The charm to return is Akan v’la’the. It
will work on either side. When you incant the spell you must be
within sight of the portal, and you must use your energy to twist
the charm—you know how to do that.”
I did. There was a certain inner force that
witches applied to the charms. Someone who wasn’t a witch, who
hadn’t been trained, could sing all the charms and spells they
wanted and nothing would happen. But with training, the words
became weapons, became keys, became tangible power to be
manipulated.
“Akan v’la’the,” I
whispered slowly, my tongue testing the pronunciation. A small
shiver ran through me, and I realized I’d found the magical
signature of the charm. I inhaled deeply and let my breath out in a
slow stream. “I’m ready.”
“Then go and may the gods be with you.” Aeval
nodded to us.
I turned to Delilah. “Let me take the front. I
can suss out the energy better than you can.” And without a second
thought, we stepped through the portal, into the deep. Into the
dark. Into the wild.
The aperture closed behind us and we were alone
amid a jungle of foliage. The temperature here was chill but not
icy, humid and cool and filled with mist. The scent of tangy earth
echoed up, along with sour peat and old rotting wood.
We paused to take stock of our surroundings. As
I turned, I realized the portal appeared to have vanished, but when
I closed my eyes and searched for its signature, there it was—right
where it should be.
“I can find the portal now, no matter whether
it’s visible or not.” I didn’t want Delilah panicking. “And I can
open it, whether over Earthside or here. Wherever here is.”
She nodded. “Good. Speaking of which . . . what
is this place? Did Aeval say?”
Slowly shaking my head, I gazed at the thick
ferns that grew nearly at eye level. Old oaks towered over us,
their limbs bare and wet. The ground was frosty and I realized that
although there was no snow here, we were definitely in the midst of
winter. The ferns were gray, their fronds drooping and dormant. The
brambles that interspersed the undergrowth were leafless, their
thorns showing through in thick, profuse abundance.
“I think . . . We’re in a subset—one of the
Faerie dimensions. And from what Aeval says, the Elder Fae roam
here. This is not Otherworld, but neither is it fully Earthside.
I’ve never heard of this place before. Perhaps it was created by
the Elder Fae, or the Elfin Lords . . . or perhaps by the Elemental
Lords. Whatever, I doubt if many humans have ever come here.”
“Or if they have, they never escaped.”
“Yeah.”
Delilah muttered something under her
breath.
“What did you say? I didn’t catch it.”
She turned to me. “I don’t like the energy here.
It feels . . . hungry. Like it’s waiting for something to walk into
a snare. Not like most predators, though. There’s a craftiness to
it that unsettles me.”
I let out a shaky sigh. I’d been feeling the
same thing. “I keep thinking about Aeval’s story about the Bog
Eater. Here we have peat and we have dark hunger . . . and I can
smell rats.” I pointed up to a nearby tree. On the boughs perched
vultures. “Scavengers of the dead.”
Falling silent, I prayed they hadn’t been
feasting on Chase’s remains. We had to find him, and the faster the
better. There was no real path, but the grass seemed trampled in
one direction.
I pointed. “There, we follow that trail.”
Delilah turned to me. “If I change into my
panther self, I might be able to catch his scent and lead
us.”
“Please, if it will help.” I hadn’t thought
about that, but it made sense. And she knew Chase’s scent.
As I watched, my sister began to shimmer and
shift. It looked terribly painful, but she always insisted it
wasn’t, as long as she didn’t rush through the shifting. And then,
as hands and feet and arms and legs lengthened into paws and furred
legs, as her body stretched and transformed, and her beautiful face
became heavy with dark fur, I could only marvel again at how
different the three of us were. Well, four—if you counted Arial,
Delilah’s twin who had died at birth.
Within a couple of minutes, a large black
panther stood there, a jeweled collar around her neck. Those were
her clothes, I knew, plus being the marker that claimed her as
belonging to the Autumn Lord.
“Can you catch his scent?” I asked, petting her
head. I loved cats, and whether she was tabby or panther, I always
cuddled my sister when she was in cat form.
She let out a low rumbling purr as I scratched
behind her ears, and, impulsively, I leaned over and kissed her
head. She looked up, her glowing emerald eyes gazing into my face,
and with a loud slurp she licked my cheek and gave a happy growl. I
laughed, then let out a long sigh.
“Find Chase, Delilah.” It wasn’t always easy to
keep her on track when she was in cat form, but I loved her
anyway.
Delilah glanced from side to side, then raised
her head to the air and inhaled deeply. She sniffed, her nose
twitching, and then, with a low huff, she swung her head at me and
set off at a light run. I ran along behind, and we headed into the
mists that rumbled through the glen. Up ahead, I could make out two
large rock faces, one on either side, that opened into a narrow
channel. A ravine between two cliffs.
We loped along, she watching her speed so I
could keep up, and I pacing myself. I had far more stamina than any
FBH, but I couldn’t match her speed when she was in panther form,
that was for certain.
As we entered the ravine, I glanced around
nervously. Trees lined the top of the ravine on either side and I
couldn’t pierce the veil of vegetation. And with the mist rolling
along the ground, spiraling up in columns, I couldn’t even see the
ground. Luckily the ravine was short, soon opening up ahead. It
looked like it led into deep woods, and I slowed, calling to
Delilah to return to my side. I paused, examining the energy.
Holy hell.
We were entering the realm of a dark god. Not
evil, but wild—some ancient forest entity. The masculine energy was
overwhelming, and it rode me like a horse, rode me like a beckoning
partner. Herne . . . the wild one. Herne, the lord of the forest.
Herne, with his antlers rising to the sky. We were entering his
realm, and here we would have to be cautious. The gods were not
always pleasant, and we were two women in male territory.
“Is Chase in here? Did he come this way?”
Delilah huffed again, nodding. She sniffed the
air, then motioned toward a side path. I followed her into the
wood, onto the path, wondering what we were getting ourselves
into.
The woodland here was dark and ancient. Older
than Darkynwyrd, back in Otherworld. Older than Thistlewyd Deep.
This was the ancient forest that had sprung up from the loins of
the gods. This was primal forest, primal energy.
The silence was deafening, with only the steady
sound of water dripping from bough to ground to mark our passing.
The sky vanished—the overhanging trees thick with needles and
cones, branches entwining across the path to blot out the sky.
Everywhere I turned, I smelled moss and mushrooms, tree pitch, and
the sweet tang of freshly turned earth.
And peat. Again, I smelled the bog.
The Bog Eater. It had to
be him; he had to be near.
Delilah paused, then moved away from my side. A
shimmer surrounded her as she began to change, and I realized she
was turning back into her two-footed shape. Something must have
caught her attention that she needed to tell me about. Or perhaps
she just felt more secure.
As she shifted back, I gave her a moment to
catch her breath, then asked, “What is it? Did you sense
something?”
She nodded, and in a low voice whispered, “We’re
being followed. There’s something behind us.”
I slowly turned, cautious, my hand reaching for
the unicorn horn. Behind us, I could only see the undergrowth
through which we’d come, thick and unmoving. But when I let out a
slow stream of breath and lowered myself into trance, I could sense
someone out there. Someone old. Someone powerful. Someone not a
god, but more powerful than we were.
I glanced at Delilah, trying to figure out what
to do. Confront them? If they meant no harm, why weren’t they out
in the open? Unless they were nervous about what we wanted. If they
were going to attack us, would we be able to throw them off their
guard by calling them out?
Delilah waited, ready to follow my lead. I
readied a spell, calling on the energy of the Moon Mother to
channel through my body. Her presence was heavy here, too, and I
realized that anywhere the wild reigned, I would find her.
After the lightning filtered down into my body,
I sucked in another deep breath and stepped forward. “Show
yourself. We know you’re there.”
Delilah readied her iron knife, wrinkling her
nose.
A moment later, the bushes parted and out
stepped a thin boy. He was full Fae, that was obvious, and glorious
in his beauty, but he was like no Fae I’d seen before. He might
stand on two feet, with two arms and one head, but he was far from
human looking. Antlers rose from his forehead—a small rack with
three tines on each side. His eyes were slanted, with the faintest
of lids, and wide set to the point of making his face look top
heavy. His hair flowed to his butt, rich brown, and he wore what
looked like torn jeans, cut off at the knees, and no shirt. His abs
were defined and he was buff, but not heavily muscled.
“Who are you?” I gazed into his face and
realized he was far, far older than we were, but he still seemed
like a boy.
He let out a garbled cry, then leaped toward us,
landing in a crouch at my feet. He reached out to touch my feet,
and I cautiously let him, trying to avoid being poked by the tips
of his antlers. Delilah poised to put a stop to him if he
attacked.
“Aeval—Aeval . . .” His voice was guttural, and
I could barely understand what he was saying, but I knew he’d
called me by the Dark Queen’s name.
“No. I am not Aeval,” I started to say, but
stopped as Delilah fervently shook her head. I paused, realizing he
hadn’t understood me. Or if he had, he showed no sign of it.
“Aeval . . . Q’n da
dir.” And then he snorted, like an animal, and stood to face
me, his eyes luminous and glimmering and crafty. He reached out and
placed his hand on my wrist, and slowly began to slide his fingers
up my arm.
Nervous now, not sure what he was getting at, I
glanced over at Delilah. He might seem young, but that was
illusion. And he looked far stronger than me. As I waited, poised
to go on the defense, he leaned close and sniffed long and hard at
my neck. As he neared my skin, I reared back; I could feel the
gnashing of his teeth right behind those closed, full lips.
His eyes turned bloodred, and he let out a loud
screech and began to dance around me. I jumped over to Delilah’s
side.
“What the fuck?” She held up her knife and he
stopped, sniffing in the blade’s general direction. With a snarl,
he shifted from one foot to the other.
“I don’t know. I told you, the things in here
are not human. The Elder Fae are as far from our people as we are
from . . . well . . . the people of Aladril. Who knows what
thousands of years has done to them?”
Antler-Boy was gnashing his teeth now, dancing
from foot to foot, glaring at the knife. He knew what iron was,
that much was obvious, and it didn’t make him happy.
“I have no clue what he wants,” I said, trying
to keep my voice even.
Delilah lunged forward, waving the blade at him.
He dodged to the side, quick as a cat. She countered, and he took
another couple steps back. “I sense Chase is in the general area,
but I don’t know quite where. We can’t just leave.”
“This one would follow us anyway. It’s obvious
he’s latched onto us for some reason. And I don’t trust him. He may
have the antlers of a deer or elk, but he’s got something behind
that mouth—I keep sensing nasty teeth waiting to rip me to
shreds.”
I gazed into his eyes and once again fell into
his beauty. Beauty? No, it was more of a
glamour. “He’s trying to charm me.” I turned on my own, lowering my
masks so my Fae heritage shone forth.
He blinked, rearing back. “Aeval? Heh . . .” And then the shifting movements
began again, as if he were dancing to a hidden beat, or—like a
shark—couldn’t stay still.
“He seems to be fixated on you as Aeval,”
Delilah said, cocking her head to one side. “As if he thinks only
Aeval could have glamour?”
“Maybe Aeval is the only woman he’s seen?” I
motioned to her. “Let down your glamour. See what he does.”
And so Delilah unmasked herself, too. And
Antler-Boy gazed from her face to mine, back to hers, looking
disconcerted. He backed away another step, looking less
certain.
Growing weary of this, I decided we should teach
him a lesson. I had no reason to kill him, but maybe a light
thrashing would take care of matters. I shook off some of the Moon
Mother’s energy, shifting what was left into a pale ball between my
fingers. Antler-Boy watched, suspiciously, as I gazed up into his
eyes, slowly smiled, then sent the spell spinning at him.
I didn’t aim it to kill, but merely to glance
off one shoulder.
He watched it approach, without trying to duck.
When it lashed into his arm, striking with a force strong enough to
knock him down but—I hoped—not leave lasting damage, he let out a
scream and scrambled to his feet.
I motioned away, like I was shooing a cat.
“Go—get out of here. Leave us alone!”
But at that moment, a loud rumble echoed through
the woods. I jumped back, ignoring the odd Fae.
Through the forest, from deep in the dark wilds,
the sound of thunder echoed with each footstep. Something huge was
coming our way. Something ancient, older than time, was striding
through the woods like we might walk through a garden. The scent of
musk washed through the air—of primal male energy, strong and erect
and dark.
We began to back away, but there was nowhere to
run.
I glanced at Antler-Boy. A smug look crossed his
face and he stuck his tongue out at me. I did not return the taunt
but instead focused on keeping my wits about me. Whatever was
coming our way was nothing to mess with.
And then, in a crash of lightning and the scent
of heavy forest rain, out stepped a being who towered over the
trees. Tall he was, with skin the color of moss. Spiraling horns
rose into the sky, black as night, and his chest was matted with
thick hair. His legs were shaggy and goatlike. A satyr, with hooves
sparking fire every step they took. His arms were muscled and his
face lined, and his cock and balls hung so heavy that they might be
boulders in their own right.
“Herne.” I whispered his
name as I fell to my knees, unable to wrest my gaze away.
Herne . . . Lord of the
Woodland. Herne. Lord of the Rut. Lord of the Vine. King Stag of
the World. Lord of the Wild.
His eyes burned red, piercing my soul. Here was
the consort of the Huntress—to the Moon Mother. Here was the god
that roamed the night, reminding people why they could never
conquer nature.
Catching my breath, I pressed my hands to my
eyes. “Lord of the Night . . . ,” I whispered, bending over to
touch my forehead to the ground.
Delilah let out a strangled cry and joined me.
“He is . . . he is . . .”
“I am Herne, Lord of this land. And this is one
of my sons, Tra. What have you been doing to him, Aeval? I thought
I told you never to torment my children again, you devil.”
I slowly glanced up at the god, a terror so deep
in my heart I could scarcely form words. “Your Eminence . . . I am
not . . . if it please . . . I’m not . . .”
But he stopped me, with a sudden laugh. “You are
not Aeval! Who are you? And why are you so familiar?” And then,
another pause, and he leaned down, looking at me like I might bend
down to look at a bug. “You carry the mark and horn of the Black
Beast. Who are you? And what are you doing in my realm? And why
should I let you live?”
And I realized right then just how much trouble
we were in.