Chapter V
CHAPTER V
The next morning, they continued their trek across the continent, forming their fae parade once more. The wilderness was veiled with morning fog, cobwebs of dew draped across Aisling’s poorly tied braid. She’d never needed to wind her own plait before, but the handmaiden who’d aided the queen the morning after her wedding had travelled separately. To her surprise, Aisling didn’t mind. She enjoyed the privacy of dressing herself, especially since Lir was never in their bed come morning. Somehow, even when he’d gone to bed hours after she, the fae king managed to wake before her and begin organizing his men for the journey. Aisling knew it was, in part, because he was a king, always responsible for one problem or another. But Aisling also knew it was because of her. For the sake of the union, Lir would pretend. Pretend that the union between the mortal and the Aos Sí was normal, good, effective in uniting the races. He needed to lead by example. Otherwise, it would all be for naught. But in private, he didn’t need to pretend. He didn’t need to spend a moment more than necessary with Aisling. That much had become clear.
“I’ve brought you breakfast, mo Lúra ,” Galad said, handing her a brown sack. Aisling reached across the space between their stags and peered within. A simple pairing of bread and cheese.
“Thank you,” she said, shocked the fae knight had thought of her. Lir had left food for her, resting at the foot of their bed before she woke. She’d devoured it quickly, hungrier than she’d ever felt before. Not to mention, she was in no place to refuse an unwarranted kindness when such hospitalities were far and few between.
“So, what does the mortal princess think of the world outside her stone walls?” Galad asked, grinning wolfishly. Aisling wondered if the Aos Sí had ever laid eyes on Tilren before, if he knew which walls had certainly sheltered her for her entire life.
“It’s compelling—enticing,” she said honestly. “I can imagine it being hard to go back to living without so many stars lighting the night sky.”
“And our kind? What do you think of us?” Galad grinned mischievously, boasting his own set of pointed canines. Aisling’s eyes flitted towards Lir, surveying the lip of an approaching pine forest.
“The Aos Sí?” Aisling asked, more as a means of stalling than genuine curiosity. But she’d already forgotten what Lir had called their kind. Sidhe , she reminded herself.
“Is that what the mortals call us?” the rider mused, a playful expression challenging Aisling’s stony one. Aisling opened her mouth to respond but was quickly interrupted.
“Galad, tá aois éigil da mhaith lirn go freilick !” Lir called from up ahead.
“Excuse me, mo Lúra .” Galad bowed his head before kicking his beast and breaking from the cavalcade at the command of his king. The two of them spoke till the rest of the fae knights closed the distance, pointing between the trees. Lir and Galad’s stags grew restless, stomping the dirt beneath their hooves, madly pacing within the shadow of the pines. Aisling could sense their nerves, the fear tightening the coils of their muscles, charging their hooves. Pangs of unease radiating from them like a sour smell she could feel, hear, and see.
Aisling had witnessed horses behave this way before, even the masterfully trained Tilrish destriers. But only ever in the presence of a forest, reason enough for her riding instructor to ban the princess from nearing the woodland’s edge on horseback or otherwise. A law that made Aisling all the more eager to venture through the trees.
Once they’d finished their conversation, Galad nodded to Lir and returned to the procession slowly approaching, weaving through the knights till he arrived at Aisling’s side once more.
“ Mo Lúra ,” Galad addressed her. “Lir has requested you share his mount while we cut through the woods.” Aisling glanced at the forest ahead, an agrestal fortress of pine and oak and feral creatures, innocently swaying in the northern winds.
“Are these woods dangerous?” Aisling asked, but Galad didn’t stop to respond, reaching for her reins and pulling her towards the fae king.
“All forests are dangerous,” Galad replied at last, bringing Aisling’s mount to a stop. But wasn’t this Lir’s kingdom? His domain? Aisling kept her questions to herself.
Lir leapt from his own stag to aid Aisling in her dismount. He ignored her offered hand, instead reaching for her waist and lifting her effortlessly to the ground. In another moment, Aisling was atop the fae king’s stag. Lir mounted behind Aisling, wrapping his arms around her till his hands found the steed’s reins, slender hands tangled in those tribal tattoos that glimmered even in the shade. She was frightened of him still, clenching her jaw, willing herself to quit the trembling that accompanied the fae king’s nearness. Would the fear ever dissipate?
He said nothing to her.
Aisling did her best to ignore the press of his body behind her, the smell of him, of pine needles. Of the earth freshly soaked with rain, as he clicked his tongue and the stag obeyed.
The procession tightened its formation, cautiously entering the forest behind the fae king and their new mortal queen.
As if entering a new world, the pressure of the air thickened. The sun dimmed, cloaked by thick canopies and the smell of damp wood carried in by the morning breeze. A wind that slipped through the labyrinth of greenwood and challenged the cacophony of crunching leaves beneath the stags’ hooves. And as these ancient, primordial trees whispered groggily, awoken from their slumber with the groans of a tree trunk swaying in the wind, Aisling couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.
The stags nervously whinnied, prancing in place. But what could inspire such fear in the Aos Sí and their mounts? Surely it was not a pack of wolves or a den of bears. The fair folk could do away with such creatures weaponless and continue unscathed.
Nemed had warned Aisling, his tuath, and all the Isles of Rinn Dúin about the forests, the mountains, the wilderness, lest they be captured by the Aos Sí. In her father’s stories, this wicked race was the monster lurking beyond their civilized walls. So, what struck caution and fear in the ancient beasts she now accompanied?
“Is something wrong?” Aisling asked Lir.
The fae king studied their surroundings, peering between the great oaks, his breath as steady, as still as a beast of prey, skulking across the forest floor. He considered for a moment.
“Tell me, what do mortals tell their princesses about the wilderness?” Lir asked, the vibrations in his chest thrumming against Aisling’s back.
“That the Aos Sí hide within their depths, eager to kill mortal men, steal their women and devour their children,” Aisling said, more honestly than she’d intended. Lir grinned, exposing his sharp canines that never ceased to surprise Aisling—even more so than his pointed ears.
“And do you believe those stories?” he asked, his voice low, nearly a purr.
“It’s all I’ve ever known,” she replied, considering the horde of Aos Sí that trailed behind them, suspiciously eyeing the trees as though they might leap from their roots and attack in a moment’s notice. “Do the Aos Sí forbid their subjects from the wilderness as well?”
“No,” Lir said, shaking his head as if it was a ridiculous notion. As if the idea that the mortals did just that disgusted him. “But even the Sidhe must be wary of its depths.”
“Is there something out there?” Aisling asked, suddenly more attuned to the eerie silence.
Aisling craned her neck to meet Lir’s eyes, feline and green enough to challenge the surrounding woodland. But he hesitated as if considering whether to tell her something.
A branch broke to the right of their procession. Lir tore his gaze from Aisling, expression darkening as he followed the source of the noise.
The stags grunted, stubbornly prancing as the fair folk drew their weapons. But Aisling saw no movement in the forest beyond.
The cavalcade stood frozen for what felt like an eternity.
“ Ar aglaidh aoise coirrigh don fúile are orailt !” Lir called to his men, shattering the quiet, to which they nodded and, at last, continued.
Before Aisling could ask any more questions Lir spoke in her ear, “At my command, close your eyes.”
Aisling opened her mouth to protest but instead, thought better of it, nodding her head in response. Something must be wrong.
Several moments passed, the silence thickening, becoming unbearable as they trudged onward. No one spoke, whistled, or laughed. The world was holding its breath, waiting to exhale. Until Lir bent lower to whisper once more in the queen’s ear.
“Close your eyes, Aisling,” he said, her name on his lips strangely intoxicating. In the mortal world, only those closest to a lady were permitted to use her first name. His use of it was wickedly inappropriate. Although was it? He was her husband, after all, even if they were strangers and enemies at that.
“Don’t open them until I say.”
Lir tightened his grip on the reins, one arm reaching for an axe strapped to his back.
Fear rippled through Aisling but she did as he commanded, shutting her eyes. Focusing on the darkness.
The silence persisted, only interrupted by the sound of her beating heart, her racing pulse, rushing through the veins in her ears. And as if they’d stepped into the blackest depths of the sea, the air grew cold. Aisling’s ears popped from the pressure weighing heavily on her shoulders, her head, her legs like an invisible hand threatening to squash her flat.
She focused on her breathing. Her only anchor to the outside world was Lir’s embrace, the hardness of his chest against her back, his legs against her own, and the steady gait of their mount.
From the silence, somewhere in the muffled distance, Aisling heard female voices. A swarm of incantations, whispering, humming wildly. Hungrily.
Initially, their song was lovely, alluring, familiar as if inspired by a childhood memory, perverted only in the slightest. She could feel every word as if it had a texture of its own, silky, oily, eager to touch her. Aisling craved to hear the song more clearly, to better understand every note and intonation of their melody.
Lir’s breath shortened, his fae heart pacing more quickly.
The symphony of voices rose, screaming, banging against the fortress of silence that surrounded her, a bubble dampening their vile yet wondrous chorus. Aisling had never heard anything like it and a part of her considered opening her eyes. What damage could be done from one peek?
But in an instant, stepping from that muffled, far-off chamber, the music stopped. The sounds of the world returned, and the birds chirped wildly, flapping their wings. The pressure faded and Aisling’s ears, once again, adjusted.
“Open your eyes,” Lir commanded.
Lir challenged their stag for the remainder of the trek, urging the beast to ride more quickly. The trees became a blur as the fae king guided them through the forest, leaping across streams and trunks and gliding down muddy slopes. His knights mirrored his pace, watching the surrounding wood with narrowed eyes. The trees seemed to bend lower, daring to touch one of their newfound guests. Seemed to whisper to one another when they believed no one to be looking.
Aisling found herself both willing and unwilling to peer into the depths of the forest. There was a fear there, a terror brewing within that she might see something she could never unsee. For what could strike such a response from the most lethal predators themselves? Still, her eyes studied the greenwood, unable to unlatch themselves from the shadows lurking between, the moss blanketed boulders or the trees whose trunks were so large, eight men could not wrap their arms around them.
No one spoke or sheathed their weapons for several hours after.
“What happened back there?” Aisling asked, more aware of the shadows that slipped between the trees.
“Dryads,” Lir said, his voice distant as though his mind was otherwise occupied. Even his muscles remained taut long after the encounter.
Dryads? Aisling had never heard of such creatures. The only races mortal subjects were made privy to were humans and the Aos Sí. But even the resources written on the fair folk were limited, authored by the mortal monarchs and their respective courts. Endeavoring to find information elsewhere was considered treasonous, to deny the authority of the mortal sovereigns, those who wrote the pragmatic truth of the beginning of the world and all things after. The beacon of light to the twisting darkness that was the Forbidden Lore. For the only other literature that chronicled the conception and making of the world was the Forbidden Lore, a library of texts written by the original twelve fae kings and queens. Rumor had it that such a collection was commissioned by the gods themselves. In the eyes of mortals, however, such sources were filled with lies and manipulations unfit to educate mankind.
“In time, you’ll learn of all who occupy this world and beyond,” Lir said, seeming to sense Aisling’s confusion.
All who occupy this world and beyond . There were others? More than just the humans and the Aos Sí? Among them, creatures that startled even the fae king himself? Aisling’s mind spun, throbbed at her temples. The royal tutors, Friseal—the Tilrish court advisor himself—and those who had educated Aisling––Starn, Fergus, Iarbonel, and Annind––had never mentioned such possibilities. Perhaps Lir’s words were the lies and manipulations she’d been forewarned of. But she’d heard these dryads herself…hadn’t she?
“ They will try to deceive you. They will spin lies as easily as they spin their thread ,” Nemed had told her in the carriage. One of the last things he had said to her.
“I’d like to see them. All of them,” Aisling said, hardening her voice. Lir whipped his attention towards her, studying her expression.
“In time,” he repeated. “There are beings out there even I deign to face—much less a mortal?—”
“You need not coddle me,” Aisling growled. If she was to live amongst this primordial race, amongst the enemy of her own kind, she would need to know its dangers. Familiarize herself with the world she’d been sacrificed to.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” Lir replied, irritation tightening his expression.
Before Aisling could respond, the fae king brought their stag to an abrupt stop. Stretched before them was a mighty gorge. Perhaps two hundred men wide. Its walls were dressed in emerald moss and lichen’s frothy breath, green giants bathing in the waters. The water gleamed, reflecting the thick canopies and jagged rocks above.
Aisling gasped, eyes wide as Lir lifted her from the beast and onto the ground. He gestured for her to follow him towards the water’s edge where a single boat bobbed. It was small, large enough for only a handful of passengers, and wonderfully carved with imaginative reliefs. A scaled serpent crowning the bow of the craft.
“The stags, the others, how will they cross the waters?” Aisling asked, eyes still pinned to the gorge. Surely their entire procession wouldn’t wait upon a single boat to carry them up and down the gorge.
“They’ll travel another route,” Galad called from behind, exchanging positions with Lir to escort Aisling onto the craft. The fae king, meanwhile, handed their mount to Rian to care for the beast in Lir’s stead. “There’s a quicker path through the rock itself, a natural tunnel where the stags can pass.”
“And why do we not travel with them?” Aisling continued.
“Lir wished to show you Annwyn from the front entrance,” Galad explained. “There’s no better view of Annwyn than from the water.”
Aisling found it odd the fae king’s knight had referred to him by his primary name. She cringed, imagining Nemed’s response to such behavior. Her father would’ve considered such informality disrespectful and worthy of swift punishment. She’d witnessed it before.
Galad crouched to sit beside Aisling in the boat just as Lir approached, prepared now to depart into the gorge. But before the fae king boarded the craft, he stepped into the waters, drenching his trousers to the thigh. He rolled up his sleeves and pushed the boat, setting Aisling and Galad adrift before leaping aboard himself. Aisling averted her eyes, lest she witnessed his trousers sticking to his waist and legs as the water ran down his lower half and soaked the bottom of the boat.
Aisling had never travelled by vessel. The craft floated like one of the lily pads elegantly sitting atop the water’s surface. It was strange yet wonderful. Fearsome yet thrilling. The steady rock from side to side. The sound of the water curling beneath the wooden serpent, leading their craft further into the gorge.
The blush-bellied wrens heralded their arrival around every bend and the rush of frothing water, slapping stones as it spilled over the moss-cloaked boulders, grew nearer the longer they travelled. Aisling had not realized—had never known that such natural beauty existed. That the wild was more capable of building, carving, fostering monuments and empires far greater than any complex mortal man attempted. Aisling bit her own tongue. For such thoughts, Nemed would whip her if he knew what she’d spoken if only to herself.
The mortal queen leaned over the edge of the vessel to peer into the waters below. The water rippled like liquid sea glass. And, if Aisling moved any further, she might’ve fallen in. The idea delighted her. Titillated her. Just as had the lake slumbering beside Tilren’s eastern wall.
Amid her reverie, Aisling witnessed something swim past. Its scaled body reflected the light percolating through the canopies overhead before slithering farther below. It was large, perhaps even giant. Surely it could not be a fish. But it moved like one, snaking through the gorge’s undercurrents, daring to catch a glimpse of its new guests.
“ Mo Lúra ,” Galad said, startling Aisling and releasing her from the water’s spell. “We’re here.”
Further down the gorge, cut from the rock itself, stood a colossal cave. Like the mouth of some mythic god, the cavern stood agape, framed by statues of females carved into the stone. Nude maidens bedizened by elegant, wasp-like wings. They were frozen in time, as if spell-bound by a bygone curse, guardians to the threshold draped in sheets of water from the cascades above, interrupted only by hanging, flowered vines whose buds were swiftly pollinated by a variety of winged creatures.
Lir steered the boat so that as they crossed, the water misted above them instead of pummeling and capsizing their vessel.
However, Aisling hardly noticed the spray of the waterfall’s breath as they dove into the blackness of the cave. Her eyes struggled to adjust, focusing on the monoliths standing tall and wide within the waters of the cavern. So large and formidable they appeared nearly sentient, protecting the cave and its black cauldron of waters. The sort of cavity Aisling imagined all Aos Sí resided in, hunched over and feeding on mortal flesh. Was this where she was to live out her remaining years? Driven mad by the eternal, hollow patter of streams dripping from the cave’s ceilings and onto the stony surfaces below?
After several moments of silence, an opening appeared in the distance, its light blinding Aisling as it flashed into view. Fresh forest air greeted Aisling along with the distinct smell of food—cooked meats and baked breads, controlled fires burning, and smoke billowing. Then came the distant chatter, the clanking of metal, the moans of cattle, and the plucking of music—sounds of a heavily populated city, Aisling realized.
And sure enough, just beyond that wondrous hole of light, rested a hollow of gargantuan trees, cradling a kingdom larger than any Aisling had laid eyes on. More magnificent than the mud pit she’d anticipated or the cavern from which they emerged, artfully woven into the forest itself; a glowing city nestled below a stone-faced castle carved into the side of a mountain.
The waters they sailed bubbled with soap, remnants of the fae females’ labor as they scrubbed their clothes upon the water’s shore. Once they caught sight of their fae king aboard the vessel, they leapt from their knees and raced along the water’s edge, alerting the kingdom of their sovereign’s arrival.
By now, twilight was spilling across the North, darkening the sky, and speckling its deep hues with starlight. The surface of the water reflected the warm glow of the city lights, illuminating the hollow in an orange, firelit luster.
Aisling was left breathless.
“This is your home now,” Lir said.
The queen turned to meet the fae king’s eyes only to find him studying her, watching her. She too would’ve been curious to see her expression. To witness the reaction of any mortal who beheld this fae land. Perhaps she was the first.
“This is Annwyn.”