It was a simple tune and a steady rhythm, that held the ear and then the mind, haunting and sublime. All who heard could no more have turned away than they could have stopped breathing. Morrison was a bard, and there was magic in his song and in his voice, the magic that comes from the heart and the soul, focused and given shape through the man and his song. He sang, and the world stood still.
He sang of Shadows Fall, and its unique nature. Of the lost and the fearful and the dying who came to the town when the world had no more use for them. He sang of the ancient and noble elves, and the long compact between Man and Faerie down all the many years. Of love and honour and duty, and how they held Man and Faerie together. And finally, he sang of the town’s need in its hour of despair, of murder unfinished and unpunished. He broke off abruptly, and his music echoed on the still air for a long moment, as though it had unfinished business with those who had listened.
Tears stung Gold’s eyes and there was an ache in his heart, and in that moment he could have denied Morrison nothing. He looked at the Faerie, at Oberon and Titania, Oisin and Niamh and Puck, and a cold breeze touched him. There were no tears in their fierce eyes, no sign in their faces that they had felt any of the exultation that had moved Gold so strongly. Instead, they looked tired and sad and resigned, as though the song had merely confirmed the need for something they would rather have avoided. Oberon and Titania leaned back in their thrones, and Niamh bowed to Morrison. He bowed back, the guitar disappearing from his hands.
“Your song moves us, as always, dear bard.” Niamh’s gentle voice was music in itself, slow and steady and remorseless, like a tide sweeping up a beach. “You have been our friend and our voice among the humans, and we would have spared you this if we could. But you have demanded the truth, as is your right, and we will give it to you, though it break your heart and ours. We know what is happening in Shadows Fall. The Wild Childe has come among you. He is the beast with every man’s face, the killer who cannot be stopped or bargained with, because that is all he is. There is nothing you or we can do to stop him.
“Worse things still are coming. You are betrayed without and within. A vast army is gathering, to take the town by force. And we… are divided, friend Sean. For the first time in centuries, we cannot see our way. Our oracles speak of death and destruction and the ending of the Faerie. Some of us would form an army, calling up weapons and sciences long unused. Some would close the door between hill and town, and bar it shut for ever. And some would destroy the town and render it to ashes, in the hope we might then escape its fate.
“And so we talk and argue and debate and nothing is decided. We cannot find our way. The only thing we are sure of is that the darkness is closing in around us, and there seems no hope for man or elf. We have no help to offer you, friend Sean; only words of doom and warnings of disaster. Divided as we are, still we would have spared you that, if we could, rather than blight your hope or damn your spirit. We tried to turn you away, and give you harsh words in place of harsher truths, but you demanded to be heard, and we could not deny you.
“I think that in the end we might yet stand beside you, against whatever form our doom finally takes. Man and Faerie are bound by compacts older than Shadows Fall itself, and we would rather die than live without our honour. And we are fond of you, in our way. You are the children we never knew. I trust we will not desert you in your hour of need, no matter what the auguries say.”
“That is not yet decided,” said Oisin, his voice flat and heavy. “Though many voices would rally us to humanity’s need, there are as many and more who would have us stand clear of the town’s fate, and turn our backs on the world of man for ever. We have a duty to survive. We have done all we can for you, and if the world must move on, then let it go. Like all children, humanity must learn to stand alone, for good or ill.”
“You must not go,” said Morrison, and there was no anger in his voice, only urgency. “We need you. We need your glamour and your mysteries, your strangeness and majesty. The world would be a greyer place without your epic battles and intricate intrigues, your towering rages and immortal loves. You are humanity written large, and life roars within you. Don’t go. We would be smaller without you to inspire us, and your going would leave a gap in us that we might never fill. You are the joy and glory of the world. You make us whole.”
Niamh smiled. “Your words move us, as always, but I fear words have not the strength among us that once they had. Stay with us, Sean, and speak further. Perhaps together we can see our way clear again. You understand that I can promise nothing.”
“Nothing,” said Oisin, and it seemed that some of the Court whispered it with him.
Morrison bowed. “I am at your service.”
“We have heard your words,” said King Oberon, in a voice that filled the Court. “We shall consider them.”
“In the meantime, be our guests,” said Queen Titania. “Ask for anything, and nothing shall be denied you.”
Niamh and Oisin turned to confer in lowered voices with the King and Queen, and the members of the Court talked quietly among themselves. Puck winked once at Morrison, spun sharply on his hooves and suddenly wasn’t there any more. Morrison let out his breath in a long sigh, and all but slumped against Gold, his strength gone. He looked suddenly older and smaller, as though he’d poured something of himself into his entreaties. Gold supported him surreptitiously with an arm at his elbow. He had a strong feeling it would be a bad idea to show any kind of weakness at this time. He looked around him for inspiration, and his gaze fell upon a small table conveniently to hand, bearing a bottle of wine and two golden cups. He reached out for the wine, curious to see what the label said, and then stopped abruptly as Morrison’s fingers sank painfully into his arm.
“Don’t touch any of it!” said Morrison in a savage whisper. “You can’t eat or drink anything here; accepting it into your body ties you to the world that produced it. This is not our world, and the rules are different here. Time runs differently. As visitors, we can come and go unaffected. We’ll return to Shadows Fall at the exact moment we left it, but to eat and drink here would make you subject to a different time. You could leave here after a few hours, and find that years had passed in the world you left. So please, Lester, remember what I tell you. This isn’t the kind of place where you can afford to make mistakes.”
“Of course, Sean, I understand. Now will you please let go of my arm before my fingers drop off?”
Morrison let go of him, and Gold nodded stiffly. He’d never liked being lectured, but it was clear the bard knew the ground rules here, and he didn’t, so he kept his peace. He nodded at the surrounding Court.
“What do you suppose they’re talking about now?”
“Damned if I know. They don’t think as we do. There was a time I might have managed an educated guess, but things here have changed so much… I knew something was up when Oberon and Titania wouldn’t talk to me directly, but I had no idea things would get this out of hand.”
“Let me make sure I’ve got this right,” said Gold. “Something really nasty is loose in Shadows Fall. Not only can the elves not help us, but some of them are actually seriously considering wiping out the whole town, just in case it gets them too. Have I missed anything?”
“Not really. Once, I would have said this was impossible. The very idea of an elf breaking his oath would have been unthinkable. Which only goes to show how scared they are. I’ve never seen them like this before.”
“They said something about oracles. How accurate are these fortune-tellers?”
“Very. They tend to be a bit ambiguous, but they’ve got a hell of a track record. If the augurs say that the very existence of the Faerie is at risk, you can put money on it.”
“But what could possibly endanger a people who can’t die?”
“The Wild Childe, presumably. Whatever that is.”
“That’s another thing,” said Gold. “I got the distinct impression they’ve known about this killer for some
time. Why haven’t they said anything before?”
“Because there was nothing they could do. They were ashamed. That’s at least partly why they didn’t want to talk to me at first. Partly because they were trying to hide the worst from me, but also because they didn’t want to admit that they had failed in their oath to protect the town. They really believe we’re all doomed. They didn’t want me to know, for the same reason that you don’t tell someone in hospital that they’re going to die. Because it would be cruel to take away all hope.”
Gold looked at him steadily. “Is it really that bad? We’re all going to die, and there’s nothing anyone can do?”
“I don’t believe that. I won’t believe it. They must have misinterpreted the oracle. Misunderstood it. I have to convince the Faerie not to give up without a fight. For their sake, as well as ours.”
“For their sake? Why?”
“Because if they believe they’re going to die, they will. They’ll just fade away. It’s happened before, when an elf loses all hope. It’s one of the few things that can kill them. We’ve got to convince them that there’s still a chance, that you can’t give up fighting just because the odds are against you.”
“What if it’s not just odds? What if it’s a certainty? James Hart has returned to Shadows Fall.”
“I can’t think about that now,” said Morrison flatly. “If I try to think about everything, I’ll go mad. We have to concentrate on what we can do.”
“Pardon me for seeming dim, but what the hell can we do? What can a young bard and a hero well past his sell-by date do to save the Faerie and the town, that a race of immortal, unkillable elves can’t do?”
“Beats me,” said Morrison, smiling suddenly. “I guess we’ll just have to improvise.”
Gold looked at him speechlessly for a moment, and then both of them realized the Court had grown silent again. They looked around the Unseeli Court, and found all eyes were on them. Gold stiffened. Something had changed again. He could feel it on the charged air; a strange mixture of menace and expectancy. Gold felt very like a rabbit staring into the lights of an approaching car. Something really unpleasant was headed his way, and he hadn’t a clue which way to run. He looked to Morrison for guidance, but the bard looked just as thrown as he did. Niamh and Oisin bowed to them both, and after a moment Gold and Morrison bowed back.
Here it comes… thought Gold. And whatever it is, I’m not going to like it one little bit.
“This is a matter of great importance,” said Niamh. Her quiet voice seemed to fill the Court. “It is not something to be decided in haste. We shall adjourn, and consider the matter at our leasure. In the meantime, their majesties Oberon and Titania will reside over the Games. You are welcome to join them, as honoured guests.”
“Oh shit,” said Morrison, very quietly.
Gold looked at him sharply. He thought for a moment the bard was going to faint. All the colour had dropped out of his face, and his mouth had gone a funny shape. “Sean? Are you all right?”
“We’d be delighted to join their majesties,” said Morrison. “Delighted. Wouldn’t we, Lester?”
“Oh sure,” said Gold, picking up his cue. “Always ready to watch some Games.”
Everyone took it in turns to bow to each other, and then the Faerie turned to talk among themselves again. Gold turned to Morrison.
“Oh shit,” said the bard, with great feeling.
“Sean; talk to me. What have we just agreed to, and why do I think from the look on your face that I should really be sprinting for the nearest exit?”
“Don’t even think about it,” said Morrison sharply. “Trying to leave now would be a deadly insult. You wouldn’t live long enough to reach the door.”
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”
“You could put it that way. The Faerie have always been big on games. Challenges of strength and skill, wit and courage. You’ve already seen a duel, and their idea of betting, but they save the really heavy stuff for the Arena. They put on the kind of shows that would have shocked hardened Roman Circus-goers. They may not be able to die themselves, but they do like to watch other beings do it. Preferably in violent and inventive ways. We’re talking combat to the death; man against elf, people versus all kinds of creatures, under all kinds of conditions. It’s very rare for a human to be invited to attend the Games, except as cannon fodder.”
Gold frowned. “Just how bad is this going to be?”
“Put it this way. If you have to puke, do it discreetly. They might take it as an insult. Whatever happens, you can’t do or say anything. Or you could end up down in the Arena, on the wrong end of a Challenge.”
“I’m no weak sister,” said Gold. “I’ve been around. I’ve seen a few things, in my time.”
“Not like this,” said Morrison. A little colour had returned to his cheeks, but he still looked as though he was recovering from a prolonged illness. “And the joke is, we can’t object. By their lights, they’re doing us a great honour.”
“Some joke,” said Gold. “Pardon me if I laugh later.”
Oberon and Titania rose unhurriedly to their feet, and the Unseeli Court fell silent. The two rulers turned to face each other, and in that moment something passed between them; something inhuman and utterly alien. Gold could feel the hackles rising on the back of his neck as the King and Queen of the Faerie gazed silently into each other’s eyes. There was something in the air now, a rising pressure, as though something powerful and inevitable was about to happen, like the moment in a storm before the lightning strikes. The pressure rose unbearably, and then was gone in a moment as the world changed. The ground dropped away from under Gold’s feet, and slammed back again even as he put out a hand to steady himself. The massed candlelight of the Unseeli Court was gone, replaced by a brighter, harsher light. Gold looked stupidly about him, the pressure of a gusting wind on his face. The Court was gone, and he and Morrison were standing in an ornately decorated private stadium, set high above the ranked seats, looking out over a vast Arena, spread out below an open sky.
The Arena was huge, a great oval of bare sand, without markings or limits, and the Faerie sat in ranks around it, thousands upon thousands of them. There was something simple and brutal about the open sands. This was not a place for sport, for the running of races or the competing of athletes. This was a place where you came to fight or die, and the roughly raked sands would soak up the blood of the victor or the loser with equal indifference. Gold pulled his gaze away from the Arena, and looked up. The sky was a boiling crimson, as though the air itself was on fire. There was no sun or moon or stars, only the bloody light of the sky. Gold felt suddenly dizzy, as though he was looking out over an endless drop, and might fall away up into the sky at any moment. He grabbed the raised side of the stadium with both hands, and the feeling slowly died away. He looked cautiously behind him, and found there were two chairs waiting, of simple but comfortable design. He stepped back and dropped on to the nearest chair, letting out his breath in a long slow sigh. He looked across at Morrison, who was still standing at the edge of the stadium, staring out over the Arena with a mixture of unease and anticipation.
“Sean; where the hell are we? How did we get here?”
“This is the Arena. And we’re here because the King and Queen wanted us here. Their rule is absolute. Even time and space bend to the royal will.”
Gold decided he wasn’t going to think about that for a while. He’d had enough shocks and upsets for one day and felt the need for a rest, physically and mentally. Morrison turned reluctantly away from the Arena, and sat down heavily on the other chair. A lot of the brashness and cockiness had been knocked out of him, and it showed. Whatever he’d expected from his audience with the Unseeli Court, this obviously wasn’t it. He gripped his hands tightly together to stop them shaking, the knuckles showing white, but it took only a moment or two for his gaze to be dragged back to the open sands below.
He’s been here before, thought Gold. He knows what’s
coming. And he’s scared.
The sudden insight surprised him. He didn’t feel scared. Apprehensive, yes, and curious, but he’d never scared easily, and he’d seen enough strangeness and cruelty in his days as a costumed adventurer for there not to be much left that could throw him. With all respect to the young bard, Gold didn’t think the Faerie could come up with anything to match the outrageous exploits of his superhero days. Morrison sat back in his chair and tried hard to look calm and composed. Gold gave him a moment to get his second wind, and then leaned over to him.
“You’ve been to the Games before, haven’t you?” he said quietly, and the bard nodded jerkily.
“Twice. It’s supposed to be a great honour. Only they know how humans react, so sometimes they use the Games to… test you. Sort out the lambs from the tigers.”
“What happens to the lambs?”
“They don’t get invited back. To the Games or the Court. The Faerie have nothing but contempt for the weak. That’s why they’re so upset over the prophecies. They’ve never faced a threat to their very existence before. They’re scared. A people to whom fear is the worst kind of weakness.”
Gold nodded slowly. A lot of things were starting to make sense now. “Where exactly is this place?”
“God knows. The land beneath the hill is only loosely connected to the real world. Its borders are vague and its limits uncertain. It’s only tentatively real, and the Faerie like it that way.”
“I don’t know why I keep asking you questions. I never like the answers I get. Can we get back to Shadows Fall from here?”
“Not without the Faerie’s help. Lester, whatever happens here, whatever you see; you can’t make a fuss. The Faerie would take it as an insult, and they’re very touchy about their honour. Remember; there are factions in the Court just itching for an excuse to attack the town.”