Chapter 14
A soft but bitterly cold wind whispered through the forest of snow-bend pines and evergreens that stretched to the frozen shore of a vast lake. Within that forest and along the shoreline was a wide growth of white birch trees. Under leaden skies, those stoic trees barely cast a shadow onto the thick layer of snow, and their bark blended into it well.
Centered in that thicket of tall trees, trunks and branches had been unnaturally bent to form a bench. Various cured animal pelts and furs lined the large seat, and remained remarkably free of wintry accumulation. It was there, in another of her Verden havens, where Saraid slouched with a troubled expression.
She stared absently out onto the rocky shore; its boulders layered in ice. Her view then went out onto the frozen, fractured waters beyond. Saraid had claimed that remote section of forest along the northern border of the immense body of water before it even had a name. The lake came to be called Kitchigami for a time, before more modern explorers named it Lake Superior.
The small section of woodlands that she claimed as hers was within what the humans had recently started calling Pukaskwa National Park in the Ontario province of Canada. Saraid wasn't concerned with meaningless human claims; in that place, as in many around the globe, she ruled. Harmless people were allowed to hike through her havens, but those humans intent on hunting or deforestation were met with severely bad luck. Those were her domains, and no transgressions were brooked under her reign.
At that moment, though, Saraid felt thwarted. Her own attempt to claim Jane McCarthy was met with unexpected opposition. Dahlia, her willing retainer, met with two counts of failure as well. She assumed that Jane's brother, one of those named as a locator, would be protected as well. The idea of abducting him for both leverage and as a useful tool to find his own sister was briefly considered. Saraid ultimately let the notion go; she had no one else trustworthy to send for the mission, and it would probably be too dangerous to deal with his capture personally.
Other locators could be had, but there was now a personal investment in the McCarthy's; the reward would be all the sweeter once she had them both. Overall, Saraid was resigned to wait until during or after the cleansing of the Ballaghadaere fae to retrieve her prizes.
Just as Saraid began to contemplate other strategic variables, she became aware that another fae had come upon her vast holdings. It was two fae, in fact, and in a location far from the gathered war party. She allowed her permanent bridge portal to open and floated through, wondering who was making an unrequested visit to an uncommon area of her lands.
A primeval forest awaited Saraid as she stepped onto the distant area of her Lore holdings. The thick canopy far above hid the sky from her view, but allowed enough light in to view her dim surroundings. She stood in a clearing free of the huge oaks, as well as the tropical underbrush of elephant plants and giant ferns. The dark earth under her bare feet was cool and firm.
Some thirty paces off sat a tan marquee tent with a campfire in front of it that threw pale, flickering shadows off into the forest. Set away from the main tent was a section of canvas, propped by sticks; two creatures huddled under it in the shadows. A large fae stood next to the crackling flame before her, waiting patiently.
Saraid walked in her visitor's direction, trying to place him by his appearance. He was a broad and bulky troll, somewhere near seven feet tall. He wore a beige robe, highly detailed with dark green stitching and a simple tower shield symbol on his chest. The loose sleeves were tucked into long, brown leather bracers, and he held a stone goblet in one of his unadorned hands.
Under bushy green brows, the troll's pale blue eyes were only a shade lighter than his skin tone. He had seven horns growing from his jawline; short near his pointed ears, and successively larger to the spike jutting from his chin. His head was shorn except for a long topknot of sea-green hair. His rough features were not aesthetic, but they did contribute to intimidation.
As Saraid came forward with confident strides, she did not sense any pressure against her mental defenses. She did feel, however, that the troll's own guard against her wiles was already up. She had no gift to see the fae's intentions, but knew his powers were weakened while on her property. Nonetheless, it was best to present a strong first impression.
With a flick of the dryad's nimble fingers, huge tree branches bent to her will and swung in low all around and above them in an ominous display, set to pummel at her whim. With an attempt to appear nonchalant, Saraid came within a few strides of her trespasser and said, "You are intruding; speak your business now, and try not to bore me." The thick tree branches creaked in closer about the troll. "I detest bores."
The troll regarded the heavy, looming branches, and then casually took a sip from his goblet. Afterward, he gave a small bow to Saraid and replied in a smooth baritone, "I do not think that what I have to say will waste your time. On the contrary, I think you'll find my words to be of service. Forgive my unsolicited venture onto your holdings, Lady Saraid, but I believe I may be of aid to you, and to all righteous fae involved with your mission. I am Cadell Arms-Caller."
Saraid recognized the name, but not with any story or achievement tied to it. She nodded to his simple introduction and took another step closer. "You are welcome on my land, elder Cadell, but only as long as I feel entertained by your presence." She glanced at the tent when a muffled noise came from within. Saraid looked back at the troll and raised one thin eyebrow. "I see you certainly waste no time in making yourself comfortable on my holdings. And I find it a bit rude that not all fae trespassers do not present themselves and ask for pardon."
"If you'll note, good elder, you came here by means of one of your permanent bridges which will sometimes allow the ether to play with its passage of time, as I'm sure you well know. My cohort and I have been here long enough to scout the area and lounge. My servants," Cadell gestured to the creatures cowering under the tarp to his left, "were ordered to set camp and gather only fallen wood."
Before Cadell could explain further, the large tent flap was pushed open and three figures stepped out close together. Two smiling, green nymphs were on either side of the short but brawny fae between them, his strong arms around both of their slender shoulders. With a lecherous grin, he kissed one nymph on the neck while he fondled the breast of the other.
Both nymphs immediately stopped their giggling when they saw who had arrived in camp; they straightened their simple, revealing gowns and hurried over to take their places behind their apparently displeased mistress.
After giving her own servants a stern glance, Saraid looked at the other fae while he calmly tied his baggy, drawstring trousers. He wore no other clothing other than those faded black pants. At just over four feet tall, the fae was bulky with muscle. His large hands and feet all had short, thick, black claws instead of nails, and the dark hair on them matched his hairy chest and stomach. He had a wide face, made even more unusual by a large, broad nose and small, dark eyes. His face looked ready to smile, but only with the type of grin one might see right before they die. The fae's hair was thick and shaggy black, with bold white stripes running through it.
"Lady Saraid of the Moon Glade," Cadell said, "this is Fergal, a morpher of some renown in certain circles." Fergal bowed to her with a leering smirk, but let his troll cohort continue with their conversation. "I hope you don't mind; your lovely nymphs came to ask our business on your behalf, and decided to keep us - or at least my associate here - entertained for a time."
"Not at all; I'm glad you've thus far enjoyed your stay." Saraid turned to her servants and quietly said, "You two will immediately find your way to the holdings of Drommen elder Crios Kaltaugen, and with the message that more nymphs are to come. Now be gone."
Once the alarmed nymphs hovered away, Saraid turned once more to her guests. Cadell was imperiously wagging his fingers to his servants to come forth, and Fergal was stoking the fire. As the servants approached, Saraid noticed that they were human; a male and female of mid
dle years in makeshift canvas togas, with bent backs and the fire gone from their dull eyes.
They retrieved a simple wooden table and two sturdy beach chairs from within the tent. Before one of the chairs could be set on her side of the table, Saraid waved the miserable servant off. She instead willed a section of thick tree root up from the ground and primly sat on it with her legs crossed and her hands on her knees. While Cadell sat across from her and Fergal reclined in the other chair to the side, the servants brought out a carafe of spiced mead, as well as food to be cooked over the fire.
While Cadell poured a drink for Saraid in the stone goblet that the female servant had just set on the table, he said, "I've talked to a few fae who share your fervor on the matter of the rebels, to see what course of action you've organized. Forgive my presumption, elder, but thus far it sounds as if you simply plan to let loose a war party like a pack of wild beasts, razing anything in their path."
Saraid kept her pose, leaving the goblet untouched. "And you take issue with that? It is a cleansing, after all; there is no need to be gentle. Other than heeding the law of Mortality, I see no reason to alter such a simple, effective tactic. We will be thorough as well as fervent."
After looking over to see the servants preparing a skinned faerie dragon carcass to set on a spit over the campfire, Cadell turned back to his alluring host. ""Ah, so you plan to lead the party into the fray?"
Smiling pleasantly, Saraid replied, "I will be... nearby. I will give the warriors directives, and let them do what they do best."
Both Cadell and Saraid waved off the servant who offered fruit from a wooden bowl. Sitting back in his chair with goblet in hand, Cadell asked, "What exactly should the party expect? If I were to join your cause, I'd want to know what kind of opposition to anticipate. Assuming you already have reports of how many opposing fae to expect, do you know their abilities? What about their strengths and weaknesses? How many are elders?"
Saraid narrowed her gaze at Cadell. "Who are you to ask? You've not joined the war party, yet you expect me to offer up information? Restrain your self-importance, elder."
"I ask so that I might offer military counsel. The size of your assembly thus far would normally be enough to dominate the field, but they are mostly fae of median age - some of those just barely. And then there are the humans to consider; is it a jovial place that offers copious glamour to the outlaws? Or are the resident fae weak from meager supplies of good emotion?"
Saraid finally reached for her goblet. After a sip, she replied, "I am not concerned with casualties, just as long as the criminals have met justice. If I am the only one to walk away from that unlawful village, then so be it."
Cadell smiled at her flippant egocentrism. "I admire your dedication. However, you and your party are going in blind. By now, I'm sure at least some of those defiant fae have learned of your plans. Without forewarning, you have no idea if they have banded together to lie in wait for you, or perhaps rallied for their own reinforcements. As a warrior myself, I know that good judgment comes from bad experiences, and most of that comes from bad judgment." He smiled at his own version of wit. "But I am also a tactician, Saraid; as such, I can see that you may just as easily be defeated. That would serve no one... except for the outlaws, of course."
Scowling with annoyance, she said, "I presume you have a point. Get to it quickly; my boredom is gathering."
Frowning, Cadell said, "My point is obvious; a clear victory would only serve you well, along with any returning warriors. I can offer you a much better chance of that outcome."
"So, you wish to make a pact."
"Of course; why else would I be here?"
"And you can gather all of that information you think is so vital?"
Cadell leaned forward and refilled his goblet. While he poured the mead, he wondered aloud, "I'm beginning to wonder why you don't think it's as important as I do." Deciding that she wasn't going to answer, Cadell sat back and crossed one leg over the other. "There is something else besides the actual battle tactics, something I believe you'll need assistance with."
With a loud sigh, Saraid rested her bare feet up on the table. "Quit parceling your offer out. State your full proposal or be gone."
Their attention was diverted when Fergus asked in a raspy voice, "Anyone else want some of this?" Both Cadell and Saraid looked over to the beefy morpher as he reached out to tear a half-cooked leg off of the roasting carcass. After he sat back and took a large bite with his pointed teeth, Fergal glanced at them. Still chewing, he said, "No? Fine, it's your loss." He ripped off another chunk of pink meat and managed to say, "Carry on," around the food in his mouth.
Cadell turned back to Saraid. "Your first issue is your lack of information, which we've covered. Your second issue - the one I was about to mention - is the matter of transportation; namely, fae-bridges. On your own, you would have to make a large, permanent bridge to bring the party over to the Verden."
"I'm well aware," she replied with a hint of irritation.
"The problem," he continued, "is when would you get there? You might show up without a moment lost, or you could arrive centuries later. And what other choice is there? Making temporary bridges for every member of the war party?" Cadell shook his head. "No single fae has that reservoir of glamour to create so many in an immediate chain."
Saraid reluctantly nodded her head. "I admit that matter has perplexed me. Unlike with most things for us, time is an important factor in this case." She didn't want to arrive when the McCarthy girl was old and weak, or possibly dead for decades.
"Of course not," Cadell agreed. "You want justice meted out promptly, as do we all. If other elders joined in your effort of portals, however, one large temporary bridge exit is feasible."
Sitting up in a more formal posture, Saraid said, "I wasn't aware such a thing was possible."
"It's rare, and the requirements are... taxing, but it can be done."
Saraid hesitated. "First tell me of how you propose to gather information, and what to do if the community is contented."
Gesturing with his free hand to the morpher, Cadell said, "That is where Fergal comes into play. He only retains gremlin servants; they can cause minor forms of mischief in the area for long and long. They also can gather information while they play their games. Meanwhile, Fergal will visit the area as well. He is quite adept with causing bad luck on objects; like a badger's bite that infects the victim, he will wear them down. The curses are only temporary when not on a living target, but a continuous flow of misfortune will surely lower human morale over time."
Saraid glanced over to the morpher again. Fergal, chewing the last bite of nearly raw flesh, wiggled the leg bone at her and smiled suggestively.
Cadell brought her attention back to him when he said, "As for your fae-bridge... that is essentially a matter of cooperation. First, exorbitant amounts of glamour must be at the ready, as you might guess. What is needed can be gathered while Fergal does his work. Secondly, and most importantly, a covenant must be agreed to by a number of elders; all must be in accord of wishing many temporary portals to converge at one exit. With pacts in place and glamour at hand, we elders will send your war party forth."
Wary of what the troll nonchalantly explained, Saraid asked, "What sort of pacts? And what other elders would choose to join me in this? It is rare for more than two fae to be completely of the same mind on most important matters."
Cadell shrugged and replied, "This is where the pacts, and who might aid you, merge. I am one of those elders, of course. Of the two elders currently in your war party, one has conceded to assist - depending on your agreement to his pact, of course. Fergal here is not an elder, but only because he has not been granted title."
"Damned Circle is biased, that's what it is," Fergal interjected with his hissing, raspy voice. He sat on the edge of the oversized beach chair with his elbows rested on his knees, letting his big hands dangle. "Just because I've worked against one or two of them before gives the Council no
right to deny me. I'm more than worthy of title."
Turning to his cohort with a mixed expression of humor and surprise, Cadell said, "You made the prize cattle of Jaeger Heart-Bow think they were vicious carnivores long enough for them to eat each other. Another of your curses had the male spriggan guards of Ragnar Red-Rock losing their facial hair and sprouting large breasts. I believe you even afflicted Talise Night-Pearl in such a way that after every time she manifested, she felt compelled to bring you a basket of a specific fish and then service your loins."
Fergal grinned, showing a few of his pointed teeth. "The fish was called grevenche; Talise only escaped her curse because the tasty little things went extinct. More's the pity."
"And whose fault was that?"
"Don't take that tone," Fergal said defensively. "It's not my fault she was so sociable and kept on manifesting. And for that matter, none of those afflictions you mentioned were really my doing. Some other fae offered pacts for my services; it was nothing personal." He sat back and interlaced his clawed fingers on his hairy chest. "Well, not most of them."
"Those elders have all taken a seat in the Circle," Cadell said. "I can see why they might be biased, but your claim for title was refused because you had no endorsements." He turned his view back to Saraid. "You, good dryad elder, are well known and well respected in the Circle. You could offer that endorsement, personally. That would ensure your side of the pact with this fine morpher. In turn, he will make himself available to assist our bridge creations."
Saraid stroked her flowing green and white hair while she commented, "Good Cadell, I've seen you in attendance at a Circle gathering before. You know as well as I that calling for elders who will agree to sit in is a lengthy process; even more so for the simple task of awarding titles. It would take long and long, and I am eager to be underway."
"That is where we are in luck, and in more ways than one. I was recently approached by a leprechaun wishing to gather elders to grant him title. He even had a scroll of endorsement from you. He accepted my terms of a minor pact for my acquiescence. The little fae has other elders at the ready. Only one more seat needs to be filled - a seat you could take. Once we are all assembled by means of the leprechaun's legwork, then we will title three fae."
"Three?"
Cadell smiled, which only made him look more sinister. "We will title the leprechaun first, and then Fergal, and finally a sprite. This last fae spends much of her time in the Verden, but proved to be worthy of title. More importantly, she is of the same mind as you and I; she is no warrior and therefore will not join the war party, but has offered succor if her title is granted. Like Fergal, your side of a pact with her would be complete. With this newly titled sprite, that would make four elders and you. Five elder fae should be enough for our convergent bridges."
Twirling long strands of hair around her small finger, Saraid said, "That sounds acceptable thus far, but you haven't yet mentioned your own requirement for a pact, Cadell."
After letting her attempt at coy seduction linger for a few moments, Cadell replied, "While I'm aware that some are more than satisfied with your erotic reimbursements, my interests are a bit more pragmatic. My services require a payment of property; a small percentage of your holdings will be named to me and removed so that I might expand my own lands. One third of your vast estate will suffice."
As all fae knew, the barter of property was simplistic. If Saraid agreed and the pact was fulfilled, then a large, random portion of her holdings would simply disappear. Cadell's land, in return, would expand by the same amount. Saraid could eventually rebuild the expanse of her holdings, but it was a long and tedious process of accumulating glamour to create it.
Saraid jumped to her feet. "One third?! That is ludicrous! Your brazen greed offends me! For simply bettering my odds, you demand a king's ransom! You're a troll; where is your honor!"
Cadell crossed his arms in a casual yet obdurate pose. "My honor has nothing to do with it. I am providing a needed service. Think of where you would be without all that I am offering. And, considering both the size of your holdings and what you have to gain from your victory, my offer is quite fair."
Resting her hands on her curvy hips, Saraid frowned at him. "Besides seeing justice done, what else might I gain?"
"Spoils of war, of course; for any fae under your command that might perish, you would be able to vie for the rights of their holdings and Verden havens with that fae's murderer. It is usually a matter of who finds and claims it first, although the other may still challenge for ownership if they choose to. But, once you make the primary claim, the challenger would be at a disadvantage on your land. Do you understand now?"
"I am fully aware of the advantages of ownership, troll," Saraid hissed. "Before you condescend again, remember where you are and who has the advantage here."
Putting one hand up in placation, Cadell said, "I meant no slight, Saraid. I was merely informing you of combat aftermaths that you might not have been aware of."
She took a moment to regain her composure before saying, "Very well, then; your information is welcome. There is work to be done. I think we should proceed with our plans."
Cadell stayed seated and clasped his hands together. "Does that mean you agree to my terms?"
With a frustrated glare, Saraid snapped, "Yes, yes, we have a bound pact." She turned quickly to the slouching morpher. "And you, Fergal; we have a bound pact as well."
Standing with a pleased expression, Cadell said, "Then let us get to our business. Fergal, gather your servants for their enjoyable toil ahead." The short, bulky morpher smiled and offered them both a small bow before he jogged off. Cadell turned to his host. "Lady Saraid, I appreciate your hospitality, and will remove myself as soon as my servants break down camp. If you would allow a portal on your land, I will return to my own holdings to begin my own harvesting of glamour. Expect scrolls from my messengers as well as Fergal's, unsavory as they might be. You are a generous host, and I have enjoyed our time together."
Saraid watched the pathetic humans move back into view as they removed the roasted faerie dragon from over the fire, and began taking the furniture back into the tent. She looked up at Cadell and replied, "As have I, good troll. Your portal is granted, and at your leisure." She then turned and began walking out of the clearing.
When a question came to mind, Saraid stopped and turned around. Cadell was just about to enter his tent when she called out to him. "Elder Arms-Caller, I am curious."
Cadell watched his human servants for a moment as they scurried about before he turned to Saraid and called back, "Yes, Lady Moon Maiden?"
"The sprite we are to title and add to my ranks... who is she?"
Giving a small shrug, Cadell answered, "A small lady of quiet disposition, strong in sight and beast affinity. She takes the name of Oriana. Is there an issue?"
Not recognizing the name, Saraid gave a quick shake of her head. "No, I wouldn't think so."