Chapter 29 #2
Warm and full, a flame that burned through Trisha like a torch.
It sang, warning her of the loaded weapons being released.
A strum of her lyre, a sharp note, and the arrows fractured in mid-flight.
The warm wood pressed against her chest, the strings sharp against her tips.
The music burned in her hands. She freed it all.
And the world heard. The bedrock, the trees, the ground. The sky.
When the sun rose above the ground for the first time, the fae gods opened their eyes, breathing out their song. This earth had listened. Though now cut off from their voice, an echo of it remained.
A heaviness, like a lead lid, descended, crushing Trisha’s mind and hands. Her fingers trembled as the sun and the wind fought her. Told her that this world had moved forward. Beyond the veil, time may stand still, but here it moved forward.
A possibility crossed Trisha’s mind, dancing across her brain for just a moment—a future where her song would fail. Could it?
A slow drumming reverberating in her heart eased her mind.
The bedrock beneath whispered. Its yearlong rhythm continued.
The roots of the rock stretched further than those of the trees.
The land recalled and spoke to her. The stone carried a memory longer than the fickle wind or the trees.
Its slow beat matched that of the Undying Lands, thumping in the tempo of the now-gone gods.
The tune remained here under the thin northern sun.
In the land that had called for her ever since her arrival.
The ground and rock returned her song. With her music, she dismantled, one by one, chord by chord, the threads separating the reality of here from the reality of there—the place beyond the stone circles. The stillness that hummed between the two places. Her two homes.
If she were to return to the Undying Land ever again, would the fae forgive her? Her lyre confiscated? Her life forfeited? But damn the cost or what it’d bring her. She was too tired to hide behind the lies.
It had mattered, but no more. She’d made her choice.
Enthralled by her power, scared beyond their wits, or perhaps held by the weight of her magic, the soldiers were transfixed in their places.
Their horses, though, understood. They moved, skittish, nervous, sensing the overwhelming fracture of life as they knew it.
And she pitied them a bit, pitied the men less.
For they’d proven themselves to be beyond redemption.
She straightened her back and stood stronger.
The night descended. The wind died. And the sea’s smells disappeared.
The sickly sweetness of the Undying Lands threaded through the air.
The sky had broken open. The dancing constellations of the faraway place beyond the veil, the stone circles and time, shattered the blue sky and the clouds.
As the sun and its light died, something strange and alien threaded through the mortal world.
The barriers between the two worlds, separated by a circle of stones and the magic of the nameless gods, shattered apart.
Over the darkening sky, dancing stars appeared.
Not those quiet, still lights she’d witnessed during the lonely nights in the mortal world.
These were the fae stars, or a memory of them.
She didn’t know, not exactly. Only that her magic had called for them, and they’d heard.
A gentle breeze blew over her, stirred the blades and the reeds.
An image of another place, its lush, dark grass superimposed itself over the heather, the wildflowers, the tuffs of grass.
For a moment, two realities, two different places, shivered in the same existence, the same time.
Like two hearts beating, sharing the same body for the time she played her song—pulling and twisting and converting the reality. Her song drew the stars of that distant place into her.
The people in the meadow—Reike and the boys, Annath and his men—were but shadows.
Murky shapes flickering in between here and now.
Even Trisha, her blood and bones, the sinews of her muscles, her breath, became something like a dream, barely here.
Only her music wove through the air, cool and sweet, grounded yet gone.
She sent her thoughts out. A plea. A request. Not even half-formed. It was a risk. A chance. She hoped it would be heard.
For a moment, nothing. Just a breeze. Stars dancing, mocking her, out of reach, out of her life.
Then, something shifted. A set of six stars spun into a coil. Their light brightened, became too much to watch. A burst of radiance. Trisha’s heart plummeted, but she wasn’t surprised. Of course, he had heard her.
The understanding twisted her insides. No other in the Undying Lands ever called him by his name. A shadow, long, strenuous, glided through the ground. As it did, a chill went into her heart.
Trisha, my sweet mortal, the voice hissed. If you missed me this much, and so soon, all you needed was to step into my coils the last we met. Shi’as’ laugh was filled with glee. I’m glad you remembered my advice.
“Shi’as,” Trisha bit out. Her fingers trembled, sweat ran in rivulets down her temples, and her hair was clammy against her skull. “Why you?”
Why? He repeated, amused. I may answer one day.
You’ve stirred more than you can guess. The shadow of a serpent slithered across the ground, bending the grass and the flowers.
Just a mirage of his white-scaled body, and yet the plants and reeds bowed.
Like water, his shape slithered down, circled the soldiers, Reike, and the boys. The mule bayed, the horses whinnied.
What a delightful gathering, a feast laid out for me. He chuckled. I’m touched.
“They’re not your food, Shi’as,” she said quickly, heart racing. Godsdamnit. She could only imagine what kind of trouble she would get into if Shi’as were to make good on his words.
Could have fooled me.
“A trade. Safety. That’s why I called.” Even when she said the words, she knew how unprepared she was.
Safety? he mocked. Trisha, you know better than to ask that from me. Don’t you?
“Regardless, that is why I called you. I seek protection for my friends and those of mine, from those who would harm us.” She shot a glance toward Annath.
And what would you give me… for this protection? Your firstborn child? Your first memory? He made a sound like snapping his teeth.
“You desire such things?” The question slipped out against herself. Her fingers were growing numb, faltering. A dissonant chord broke through, and the shadows flickered.
Be quick, my sweet mortal. Your strength endures only so long. What will you give?
Her heart was thumped like a bird trying to escape its confinement, her vision growing blurry.
“A promise, Shi’as,” she whispered. “I’ll give you a promise.”
His gleeful laughter was full of poison. Whatever could you promise me that I’d want?
“To call you for the second time. That’s what you want, don’t you?”
A silence. Then a chuckle. Tempting. So very tempting.
“What more do you want?”
Ah. If you only knew. The blades of grass bowed as he hissed. But since I’m in such a magnanimous mood, I’ll do what you’ve asked. I’ll save you and your friends. Just be prepared for its price.
Twice she could call him, and the second time… She didn’t want to consider what it meant.
Don’t tell me you’re now afraid, Shi’as mocked her, words jagged like splintered glass.
“I’ll do it. I give you my word,” Trisha said, swallowing. She was giving herself to him on a silver plate, but what options did she have? Either agree, or reveal her magic for naught.
A low, sinister chuckle. Very well, Trisha. You’ve got yourself a deal. Protection for you and those of you. I’ll hold onto your promise. But you may call me only when you’ve learned the truth about your past and only then.
“Wh-What?” she stammered. The truth—didn’t she know it already?
He laughed. You’ll find out. Then, Trisha, you must call me.
The shadow circling her like a whirlwind unfolded, and the darkness spread as it did.
Traversing toward the waiting men, toward Reike and the boys, all staring at her white-faced.
It swirled, spread, moving toward Annath, Ernaut, and the waiting men.
Too late, Trisha understood. Protection, to Shi’as, meant erasure.
Obliteration. The enemy wouldn’t touch them because there’d be nothing left to touch with.
“No!” she shouted, but the words were too weak. Shi’as had already decided. Knowing what it would mean, what he’d bring.
A scream. A shriek. Darkness. Then nothing else but three boys, a mule, and Reike holding her swords. No trace of Annath of his men, as though shadows had eaten them. Trisha swayed, the music dying.
Don’t forget, mortal. Once you know the truth. I’ll be waiting to collect my prize.
The shadows dispersed, the sun breaking through.
As it did, all strength abandoned her. Trisha’s knees wobbled, and she fell, the lyre tumbling down on the grass.
Across the plain, Reike’s face was white, her hand clutching the hilt of her sword.
Next to her stood Dietric, his mouth slack, red hair simmering in the sunlight.
Trisha swallowed. Regret filled her entire core. This frail friendship she’d built—gone. And Blainor, what would he do? She’d whisked away his chieftain. There would be grave ramifications.
More than that, she owed a boon to a nameless god.
Shi’as had given his name like a present. She should have known then not to accept it. Never to use it.
The High King had been right. Even worse, there would be no avoiding the questions. The people knew. She’d exposed her past, the connection to the Undying Lands—the High King would demand his compensation. Either in blood or magic.
And as for Blainor… She might survive his questions. He knew. But what she couldn’t survive was her reckless promise to an immortal.
Shi’as had played Trisha like an instrument in his twisted song long before she had even realized.
Her body hit the ground, but even the pain of the impact didn’t hurt. She was too far gone. Darkness took hold.