Chapter Forty-Three: A Maniacal Plan

With his personal guard - two fae-kin, two sauryx, and two humans, I noted - Nargillis led me from what served as his throne room at the top of the temple and down ancient but finely-hewn stairs. The humid jungle air wafted up from below, with the slightest whiff of sour waste roiling up from the tents and buildings of the city. We passed through a series of great curtains, with Nargillis taking great strides beside me while I struggled to keep up without resorting to an undignified, scampering gait.

Calivar and Gaelin were already waiting for us within, unrestrained (just as I was) but under heavy guard (again, as I was). They looked a bit stressed, with Calivar's coils of coppery hair gone a bit frizzy and my step-brother looking tired and sallow-faced. But they were both visibly relieved as I strode in wearing the gown Nargillis had given me, along with my various small items of woodsong-carved 'jewelry'. He'd confiscated my sword, of course.

"Laeanna!" Calivar stood and made to run to me, and my heart yearned for his embrace - but his guards moved quickly and made it clear that they'd block any attempt to get closer to Nargillis. Violently, if necessary, I'd bet. My husband glowered at the guards and then looked back to me. "How are you?"

"Meliswe's a skillful healer… I'm not quite back to normal, but I'm not far off." I moved my shoulder with just the slightest soreness and stiffness. "You've been treated well…"

Nargillis chuckled. "My brother and yours both got the royal treatment - would-be assassins never had it so good…"

"It's been tolerable," Gaelin said. "But they wouldn't tell us how you were…"

"However ungrateful you are, I am an honorable host. You are all alive and healthy," Nargillis stated. He sat at the far end of the table, steepling his fingers. "You are all strangers to me - even my 'brother', whose true-self hails from Earth now. Thus, I have no vendetta or grudge against any of you. You've been coaxed and prodded by the fae monarchs, such as they are, and I'll not hold that against you. In fact, I bring you a great gift if you're wise enough to accept it…"

The fae realms were each ruled by monarchs, each of whom headed royal families. Within these bloodlines, whether true or adoptive (over time), was the magical bond to the fae realm. Why does an eighty-three year-old fae princess with a soul that's been in Alfheim for less than a year and lived in Estival far less than that have a stronger bond through marriage to the summer realm than, say, a fae merchant who's lived there for eight centuries? It apparently has something to do with the ancient fae magic that originally brought the realms to Alfheim, as well as Gaia's affirmation of marital bonds. If the royals of a realm were all killed by the 'great death', then any noble could claim the throne, but the realm-bond would not be established without either recognition by all of the other monarchs or by an ancient ritual, now forgotten, that hadn't been performed since before the fae left their home world.

Nargillis had an insidious plan - if Calivar, Gaelin, and I were instated as the monarchs of our respective realms, then we could recognize Orealis as the king of Autumnal… and, with all four of us aboard, we could recognize Nargillis as High King of the Fae. With the realms closer than ever before, the time was now ripe for a High King (or Queen) to rule from the juncture between the realms, finally sealing the little seams of wilderness that split the realms from one another and over their rule growing the fae realms to their ultimate size - how much larger, no one was sure, but it was certain to be many times larger than their current size. It was, Nargillis insisted, his destiny… the fact that Gaelin was adopted and didn't yet have a strong bond with Hibernal was the least of the problems with Nargillis's plan…

"We'd have to kill all of the other fae royals," I pointed out.

Nargillis nodded, his eyes flashing something manic - he was clearly eager at the prospect. "Yes, exactly. But why should that concern you? Two Earth humans now in fae bodies and an adopted fae from a lowborn merchant family? What tie have you to the other kings, queens, princes, and princesses of the realms? The rulers of the four realms wallow in their ancient ways, too stubborn to name a king, leaving us unable to claim our rightful spot in the world, the guardians of all of Alfheim - they deserve to be cast from their lofty spires…"

"I'm not killing my mother," I said.

"You need not do anyone, my dear," Nargillis said. I did not like him calling me that. "You need only swear your fealty to me in the ancient way, and then live in luxury here in Aru-Khazi while my armies capture the realms and my beautiful poisons put the kings and queens to their final demise. Then you may take your crowns and rule your realms, mightier than any of the current monarchs and beholden only to me as your High King… tie your destiny to mine, and the old fae homeland will be a sad spot in the sky and we shall be as gods upon this world…"

"I already have a goddess," Gaelin stated. "And I would rather meet her in Elysheim than be party to this insanity. You've lost any hold on your senses…"

"Or perhaps too much of Fostolas and his ossified thinking has rubbed off on you, Gaelin. I urge you to reconsider… and you, Laeanna-who-was-Larry-Born… you have strong claim to three of the fae realms. Side with me, become queen to your own realm, and I could name you Consort to the High King, the second mightiest monarch in all of fae - and, indeed, all of the world. Why would you give one whit for these ancient traditions?" He looked at me, lips quivering, eyes wide, and I realized that there was never going to be any reasoning with this man.

"Because none of the three of us are cruel murderers… and nor are any of the current rulers of the fae. We may have our disagreements, but none of them has ever invaded the others, never waged war, not even abroad, nor transported tens of thousands of soldiers from another world in a mad gambit for power. You could have stayed the mad little king of a ruined jungle valley, and instead you've threatened the whole world with this insanity. That’s why I give a whit… and I swear to Gaia that all of us would rather die than play party to this nonsense…"

"I see… and what of it, little brother? What of it, Gaelin? Does this girl speak for you?"

"That woman does," Calivar said. He reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

Nargillis stared angrily in the direction of nothing in particular, his jaw clenching and unclenching, his eyes glassy yet somehow perturbed. "If you would rather die than assist me in my plans, that can be arranged," he said eventually, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Take all the fae to the secure cells - we depart for the Blasted Fields in the morning."

+++++

We were shackled and carried away and, once again, I mourned the loss of my spellsword. Without it, I was just an uncommonly powerful sorceress among fae of reasonable power. In the unlikely event that I got the jump on the guards and killed Nargillis, he would return in time and once more prove a threat… and the rest of us would forfeit our lives, too. So we went along with his guards, waiting to spot some weakness in his mad plan where escape, or at least meaningful resistance.

As we were led away, down a great ramp and into the bowels of the temple, down into the humid, stinking air of the city, we watched a blue and purple storm wavering on the horizon, flickering and flashing, a great claw ripping into the fabric of space. And we watched hundreds of new troops stomping down the city's one large avenue, carting artillery and driving transport trucks heavy with munitions.

"Will the realms be ready in time?" Gaelin asked, awed at the scope of their army. It was close to ten times the size of the one that had steamrolled Autumnal if I had to guess.

"They'll be ready to put of more of a fight," I said. "But it won't be enough." At least our doomed journey into the Outer Realms hadn't doomed the fae kingdoms - they were already doomed to begin with.

Finally, we were brought into a cramped and stinking dungeon - one already well-populated by the sounds and smell of the place. There were people of all races there - mostly human, on account of the influx of Earth men, but there were sauryx and taurin and sylvast, too. Some of them looked like they hadn't eaten in days, their eyes having a gaunt, hollowed-out desperation to them. Some of them had great welts, some of them seeping, from where they'd been beaten or otherwise tortured. These were far worse conditions than what Orealis was currently experiencing - that much was certain. At least we each got our own little cell! The jailer shackled me to a wall, bindings over my hands, cuffs on both my ankles and wrists.

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"That's the one that sings," another jailer said.

"I bet she does sing," the first one chuckled, his breath reeking in my face. He slid his hand along my body with far too much familiarity as I tried to twist and turn away. Once he got to my lips, he ran a grubby thumb across them, and I gave him a good bite for his efforts. "Bitch!" he growled. "Let's hear you sing now…" And, with that, he gagged me with a sour-tasting cloth and locked the cell as he left. "You're a lucky one - King Nargillis is taking you out at first light."

Minutes later, they dragged Meliswe in and put her into the cell next to mine. They gagged her, too, even though she didn't know enough woodsong to do much with it. Whatever his many flaws, Nargillis did not take foolish risks with his most dangerous and highly-prized prisoners. I tried to crawl my way over to Meliswe to comfort her, but I had too little movement. In the end, I managed to stretch my shackled legs out just enough that my toes touched hers and, somehow, that scant contact managed to calm me, her feet rubbing against mine as her eyes sought me out in the dim, sweltering place.

+++++

Somehow, I managed to sleep. There wasn't much else to do so, when the guards put out the lanterns and left us in utter darkness, I drifted off, my arms and legs sore from my shackles, but Meliswe's feet still against mine in our tiny show of defiance. I tried to sing the woodsong, but I was far too muffled. I could have done a little magic… in contact with the metal of my shackles, I could have summoned a lightning bolt and hoped it hit somebody we wanted dead, but I was just as likely to hit Meliswe, Calivar, or even myself, given my lack of ability to aim. I could have pulsed out raw magic with undirected propuls… that might cause a lot of damage, actually. It would be a resort of desperation… if things could get even more desperate…

We were hauled out in the morning and into the back of a wagon, still gagged, though they had to undo our shackles and manacles. They had only the four of us - wherever Alfina and Gaelin's fae-kin bodyguard were being kept, it wasn't in the back of the wagon with us. Whether Nargillis only wanted nobles or only wanted pureblooded fey (or close, in Meliswe's case), it seemed that we were the only ones invited to the back of the bumpy wagon.

"Heard somebody strung up five men last night over by the old jail," one of our guards said.

"Really? They think it was one of them jungle things?" another said.

"I figure it was fey magic… I figure one of these ones summoned a spirit, but it went to the wrong jail, didn't it?"

"That could be," the second one chuckled.

It sounded like somebody had made an attempt to get to us, but they'd gone to the wrong jail. Oh well… that was five fewer enemies to worry about. Five fewer among a cohort of close to a hundred thousand. It could have been any one of our people, I suppose - any of those not killed or captured by the men who'd taken us, that is. Of course, there were only a handful of people in our party nearly skilled enough to do that, and I'd assumed that the one who looked like a cat had been captured along with the rest of us at the shore. But I don't think any of us had seen Master Dhyr since we'd been captured.

"One more for the wagon," a guard said.

A moment later, a man was hauled over the side and dumped right on top of Calivar without much ado. Calivar wriggled out of the way, eventually pressing himself against the side where Meliswe and I were huddled… a nice little reunion. And, speaking of reunions: the man they'd just dumped in was gaunt, sickly, and generally miserable-looking, but he was unmistakably Ben Boyd.

"Bmm!" I said through my gag.

He looked up, confusion and panic in his eyes - he didn't look happy to see me. Maybe because he knew why we were being taken out into the jungle in a wagon, thirty armed men marching to either side and King Nargillis's 'honorguard' (if such a man could said to have a scintilla of honor) marching at the fore.

We rolled through the jungle, the wagon jostling us around as it rolled over great roots and into the little gulleys of jungle streams. Once, they had to unload all of us to lift the wagon over a fallen tree and then load us back up again - once again without much consideration for our comfort. Whatever we were to Nargillis, it was no longer royal guests.

We rolled through tracts of sunny jungle meadow that smelled of sweet flowers and past crumbled ruins. We heard the eerie howl of ghost monkeys in the distance, but they never came close. Perhaps they knew better than to test Nargillis's men. I imagine that if I'd spent any significant amount of time in the wilds of the Outer Realms I'd have devised clever ways to deal with the major threats I might encounter. However, not everything that lurked out there was sensible enough to leave our caravan alone…

Twice, we were attacked by things that snarled and growled - the second time, it was at least three of them. I heard the crack of gunfire, the scream of panicked, gravely-injured men, the sounds of leather and flesh being rent, and the unearthly braying of some massive, deranged beast. The dismembered paw that flopped into our wagon, still twitching, razor-sharp claws clacking about and dripping with gore, was close to the size of my torso.

"Leave them behind - they won't survive anyway," one of the officers stated. Apparently, there were at least a few casualties and leaving them to the jungle was just fine and dandy. Great guys, Nargillis's men.

"Why the hell are we going out here with these poor shits in the wagon, anyway?"

The officer took a moment to reply. "King Nargillis consulted the rune oracle… that big black thing at the top of the temple? If you sacrifice to it, it'll tell you secrets, and it told him he needed to bring this lot out here to ensure victory…"

"Can we really trust something called the 'rune oracle'?"

"Dunno. But the Sun King trusts it, and that's all that matters to the likes of you and me."

"True."

By then, they'd reorganized after the attack and recommenced with rolling through the jungle, past towering ruins swallowed by vines - from what little I could see through the gaps in the wagon's boards, none of it had been touched by claimers. I imagine Nargillis had cleaned out what he could, but he didn't seem too big on graffiti to update others on what he'd found. We rolled on and on, and I fell asleep again, my head nestled in the crook of Calivar's arm and Meliswe resting her head on my own shoulder. Twice I managed to get my gag off but, the moment I tried to whisper a little hum of woodsong, nearby guards picked up on the sound and gagged me again.

"Try that again and I'll make sure you can't sing anymore - King Nargillis don't care if you're able utter a sound or not…"

That was the last time I tried that little bit of resistance. What else could I do? They'd replaced my shackles with rope, so I couldn't even summon lightning form the heavens. Maybe I could do something with the vines, but it wouldn't be like the woodsong where I could get the plants to do my bidding. It would be more like the vine equivalent of lightning - boom! Vines randomly growing everywhere, and it might ruin what little goodwill I had with the strange trees of the Outer Realms.

Finally, close to evening, we reached a huge and rugged hillside in the middle of the jungle. Vegetation spread for miles in every direction, no civilization to be seen anywhere, and yet the plants had utterly avoided this outcropping, and the broken land just beyond it, as if it was too horrible or too sacrosanct to grow upon. Perhaps both of those things.

"Bring them to the Engine of Change," Nargillis said. I could see the top of his head peeking above the rim of the wagon.

"The Engine of Change, sire?"

"The big bloody machine in the middle of the field, you idiot. Is that simple enough for you to follow?"

"Yes, sire."

They assigned one man to carry each of us - even now, Nargillis wasn't risking anything that might let us escape. He was paranoid, but probably for good reason - whenever I've been given the slightest chance to escape, I've always managed to do it. Now, though, my options were scarce. A hefty human man carried me, while Calivar got a hulking sauryx as his escort, since he was the largest of the five of us by a wide margin. Normally, Ben would have been the next-largest, but he looked so gaunt that Gaelin probably came close to outweighing him now.

As we circled the hill and proceeded across the barren field, what I thought at first to be a boulder surrounded by a dead briar resolved into a hulking, rusted machine the size of a house with strange, thin limbs skewing out from it at odd angles, like a host of little proboscises jutting into the ground and drinking from the very earth. The front of the thing looked vaguely like a grinning skull, and I wondered whether it had once been part of a great mechanical man the size of the tallest building. It's quite possible that the 'rugged hillside' had once been its body… though that body now was a crumpled mess covered by what looked to be the strange skeletal likenesses of great harvestman spiders, metal and rusted, crawling over the great body. Only they'd been stopped mid-crawl many centuries ago and were as rusted and decrepit as anything else nearby.

"This is the Blasted Field," Nargillis explained. His eyes alit with an unsettling glee. "When I first spoke to the Rune Oracle, it showed me this place, a site of an ancient battle too horrible to conceive. Within this contrivance is the Engine of Change. With the Crown of Stars and the help of you four, I'll be able to unlock its power and become the High King of the Fae whether you want me to or not… all I need is a little help…" he nudged me with a big finger.

"We'll never help you," I tried to say through my gag.

Nargillis must have got the gist. "What you want doesn't matter. The true sacrifice of four fae will be enough to awaken the machine and bind it to my whim… the power of the Crown of Stars multiplied a thousandfold, the ability to open the ley to many worlds from anywhere… I need only give it what it wants, and I shall become its master."

"You can't do this!" I tried to say. And, again, Nargillis got the gist. Desperate to stop him, I chewed at my gag, but it held firm. I tried to call down lightning using the metal of the great machine, and it tore down out of the sky striking the outside of the thing and doing no damage whatsoever. I tried to call vines using my bindings, but nothing grew for hundreds of yards around the Blasted Field. "You're insane!"

"I'm mad? Perhaps that's what you think." He held my chin between his fingers and forced me to look him in his wild, brassy eyes. He was insane. "But in just a few minutes, what you think won't matter to anybody ever again, because I'll have sacrificed you to the Engine of Change. But I think you'll go last - put the rose-haired one upon the offering circle!"