Lord's Fall

SIX

“You look like something a cat coughed up,” Eva said in a helpful tone of voice.

Pia gave Captain Psycho a dirty look as she tied the laces of her new boots. “Have I told you yet how much your witty repartee means to me?” she said between her teeth. “No, wait. I believe I haven’t.”

Beluviel had told her that the Elves would provide for her group’s needs, but she had still needed to get a few things suitable for horseback riding and a stay in the Wood. She had brought only one pair of jeans, the ones she had worn on the trip down.

The group had stopped at a superstore directly after leaving Lirithriel House so that she could buy a couple extra pairs of jeans and the boots. She had brought enough sweaters, and although they seemed a bit dressy, they would do. She packed one nice slacks outfit to meet Calondir in, left her fine wool dress coat in the wardrobe and threw the more serviceable anorak she had worn on yesterday’s car trip on top of her pack.

Eva crossed her arms and lounged against the doorway, watching Pia’s final preparations. “You sick?”

“Nope.”

“Deranged?”

She gritted her teeth. “Just didn’t sleep well.” She had, in fact, lain in a furious, hurting clench for hours after she had woken up. After a brief, horrible struggle with herself, she did exactly what she told Dragos she would do, and she turned off her iPhone. Then she glared at the damn thing for the rest of the night.

She wanted to turn it on. So. Badly.

But it would be truly awful to turn the phone on only to find out he never called or texted. And it might actually be just as awful to turn it on and find out that he left a terrible message of some sort, something cold or hateful about disobeying him.

And it would be especially awful if she turned on the phone to find out that Dragos was remorseful and apologetic. In pain. If he did something horrendously unusual like beg her not to go. Because then she was afraid she would totally cave in, and what’s more, she might gallop back to New York, and that wouldn’t do anybody a lick of good, not the Elves, not the Wyr demesne, not Dragos and especially not her, because this was a line she had to draw that she could not back down from.

He simply had to acknowledge and treat her like his partner, and work with her to figure out what that meant. He could not give lip service to the subject only to revert whenever he lost his temper or he didn’t like how things were going, and sure, he was a dragon and a man, and that meant he had all kinds of communication issues, but this one time, he had to be the one who gave in.

“So,” Eva said. “There’s no reason to call off this trip.”

Pia froze as an especially, super-duper terrible idea added itself to the litany of terrible possibilities. “Why?” she bit out. “Did somebody ask you to try to stop it?”

Eva stared at her like she might have lost her mind. The other woman might have a point. “Just thought I’d double-check.”

“There are lots of reasons to call off this trip,” she said. She stood and walked over to Eva, and looked into the other woman’s eyes. “I just happen to think all the good reasons to go outweigh the others. Got a problem with that?”

Eva cocked her head. “You got a touch of bitch-goddess sexy too, don’t you, princess?”

She twitched a shoulder. “I guess I do.”

One corner of Eva’s mouth lifted an insolent notch. “Your goddess ain’t as sexy as mine though.”

“Who cares?” said Pia. “Because you’re my bitch now.”

Surprise flared in Eva’s gaze, then she burst out laughing. With that, they both went down the stairs to load the SUVs, and the group drove out of Charleston.

The early morning was cool, damp and gray. Low-hanging clouds blanketed the sky, dark and lowering. They might be in for a wet, uncomfortable day’s ride. Pia flipped her cell phone over and over in her hands, scowling at it for the duration of the trip. She only looked up when they drove the final approach to Lirithriel House. As they pulled up to the front doors, an Elven male stepped outside to direct them to follow the drive around to the back of the property where they could leave their SUVs by the stables.

The drive took them around the edge of the garden, which was lush from every angle. Between the magnolia trees, Pia caught a glimpse of a gap in a high green hedge, bordered by two elegantly carved marble pillars. That looked like the opening to the labyrinth.

The stables were already a hive of activity. A couple of the Elves smiled at the newcomers. Several of them walked horses that were already saddled. Their horses were gorgeous, thoroughbred-sleek with gleaming coats, long, slender legs and intelligent eyes. Pia saw one horse mouthing affectionately at the hair of the Elf attending it, who bore the attention with a tolerant smile. They clearly loved their horses, and their horses loved them.

The animals were also quite large up close. While the rest of her group double-checked their packs, Pia took a deep breath and turned to Hugh, who carried her pack slung over one shoulder along with his. “I suppose now’s the time to mention that I don’t have a lot of horse-riding experience.”

“Not to worry,” Hugh said. His smile transformed his rather plain, bony features. “I’ll make sure they give you a suitable mount.”

“Thank you.”

Pia fingered her phone again as Hugh left to talk with one of the attendants. Her stomach was a tight knot of nerves. She ran her thumb over the power button, looking down at the black screen. She would take just one quick peek. She never said she would leave it off forever. And she ought to check on things anyway, since the phone probably wouldn’t work when they went into the Wood.

She couldn’t go all day without some sort of contact, she just couldn’t, not with how they . . . she had left things. She thumbed the power button on at the same moment that Beluviel walked out of the stables, caught sight of their group and walked toward her.

Beluviel looked even more exotic than she had yesterday, her long, dark hair braided for travel. She wore leggings and a tunic of a rich, soft green cloth, with a bronze jacket so intricately embroidered, it could have been a museum piece.

She was also more luminous and vibrant than ever, and a sense of refreshment wafted over the scene at her arrival, bringing with it optimism and hope. At first Pia thought she had imagined it, but then she noticed how the other Elves looked to Beluviel as well, smiling. Even the other Wyr did, although they didn’t lose their sharp-eyed alertness.

A useful attribute, that. It had to be much better than looking and feeling like something a cat coughed up.

Her phone pinged. The small sound sent a hot prickle over her skin, and her stomach clenched. She glanced down at the screen. She had several text messages.

“Good morning,” Beluviel said. “I’m so glad you were able to start early. We can make the journey in one day, but there is quite a lovely resting area where we can stay the night if you find yourself getting too tired. Please don’t hesitate to say something if you feel the need to stop.”

“Thank you, that sounds terrific,” said Pia. She tried to smile too, but the muscles in her face felt rigid. She hoped her expression didn’t look as ghastly as it felt. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but these messages won’t wait. I hope you don’t mind if I take a few minutes to check them.”

“Not at all,” Beluviel said. “Your phone won’t work in the Wood, so take the time you need now. We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“I appreciate that,” Pia told her. “I’ll be as quick as I can.” She turned away, her heart knocking like a crazy thing.

Suddenly Eva was right beside her, asking telepathically, You all right, princess?

Pia’s stiff smile died a miserable death, and good riddance to it. I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes, Eva. Even to her own mind, she sounded tired.

Like the lady said, take your time, Eva said quietly. The captain stopped at the rear bumper of their nearest SUV and took a casual position, relaxed yet unmistakably standing guard.

Pia nodded in Eva’s general direction as she stepped between the two vehicles for a modicum of privacy. She was an idiot. She shouldn’t have waited so long. She should have checked for messages in real privacy when she had the chance.

As soon as she was a few feet away from the other woman, she looked at the screen of her phone again. She had nine text messages from various people. Most of them were from Stanford, who tended to be high maintenance.

Only one text message was from Dragos. It had been sent a few minutes after she had woken up and turned off her phone.

She clicked the message open and read it.

Talk tonight. Be safe.

Her vision blurred. The message was terse and to the point, as were all of Dragos’s messages, but was it enough?

She had to admit, she had boxed him into a corner in her mind where almost nothing he could have said would have been right, and silence would have been the worst thing of all.

But those four words said a lot. They said he had backed down and accepted her decision, even though he had to have still been angry when he sent the message. They weren’t enough, but they set a platform and were a promise of more.

Then she was able to take a deep breath for the first time since she had awakened. She texted him back.

Yes.

Almost instantly her phone pinged again.

Six days.

He had been waiting all that time for her reply. The starch left her spine, and she rubbed her face. Probably it was good to make him wait now and then, but hell’s bells, that was a hard road to take. You’re impossible, impossible, she mouthed at the phone as she gripped it in both hands and shook it. You make me crazy.

She started and deleted a couple of replies, all too aware that her six guards, as many Elves, the High Lord’s consort and all their horses were waiting on her.

Her phone pinged again.

Pia.

Of course, she sent back.

Ping. Dammit! She opened that message too.

Until tonight.

Her fingers moved rapidly over the small keyboard.

Until tonight. Cell phones won’t work in the Wood. I must shut down now.

She hit send and, gritting her teeth, forced herself to turn off the phone. Then she squared her shoulders and turned to join Eva, who said nothing but walked with her back to the waiting group.

Afterward she never remembered what she said. She knew that she smiled, exchanged pleasantries and admired the tall, sweet-natured chestnut horse that was to be hers for the trip. When everybody mounted, she did too, while Hugh held on to her horse’s bridle for her.

Beluviel rode a gorgeous, gleaming black mare, with a proud arched neck and startling blue eyes. After a quick glance to make sure everyone was ready, the High Lord’s consort rode first toward the Wood, and the rest of the group fell into place behind her.

As Pia nudged her mount, the two female Wyr, Eva and Andrea, came up on either side of her. Hugh and James took point, and Miguel and Johnny fell in behind, surrounding Pia completely. She gritted her teeth, feeling trapped and boxed in, but she held her peace for the moment. None of them knew what to expect when they passed underneath those trees for the first time.

Behind her, Miguel muttered, “There better not be any Tom Bombadil skipping and singing this early in the morning, or any hobbit-eating trees. That’s all I got to say.”

A light Elven voice said, “Tom Bombadil is a completely fictional character, of course, but we make no promises about any flesh-eating trees.”

Pia glanced over her shoulder, as did Andrea and Eva. An Elven girl had ridden up beside Miguel, a longbow and quiver strapped to her back. The girl had an immaculate seat on her horse, her slender body held straight and relaxed. Her short hair, skin and twinkling eyes were a lustrous dark brown, the pointed tips of her ears showing pixie-like through the fluffy strands. She had dyed the end of her hair blue.

Miguel appeared frozen in his saddle.

“Class it up, jackass,” said Captain Psycho irritably.

The Elven girl laughed, a bright, sharp sound that rang out like knife play. Then she chucked her horse into a gallop that sent her to the front of the party where she fell into step beside Beluviel.

Miguel looked after the young Elf hungrily. “Somebody please tell me that chick ain’t underage.”

Pia closed her eyes briefly. If she could only start over from eight o’clock yesterday morning. No, make that two days ago. Then she could have packed differently too.

Up ahead, Beluviel rode toward a wide path that led to a break in the trees. Pia could have sworn that neither the path nor the break in the trees had been there a moment ago. The Wyr fell silent at the same time the Elves did, and by some trick of acoustics the sound of the hoofbeats seemed muffled as the group entered the Wood in twos and threes.

Intensely conflicting emotions ricocheted through her when it came her turn to pass the border, a deep elation along with a sense of panic. She was both an urban-raised girl and a forest animal, and the dense foliage called to her deepest instincts. She wanted to back out, turn on her cell phone and call Dragos, or worse, race to one of the SUVs and break the speed limit all the way back to New York. She also wanted to throw herself out of the saddle, change into her Wyr form and plunge crazily into the deepest, most Powerful heart of the Wood.

Of course she did none of those things. Instead an ancient, wild presence enveloped her as her horse stepped underneath the green, green trees.

They traveled at an easy pace through the morning.

Once they had all entered the Wood, Beluviel fell back through the group to travel with Pia and talk of a variety of things. In contrast to their open heart-to-heart from the previous afternoon, they both kept the conversation light and suitable for multiple listeners.

The Elven girl with the blue-tipped hair traveled back with Beluviel to tease Miguel unmercifully. Miguel did not appear to mind in the slightest. In fact, by the end of the morning his dark, observant gaze had glazed over slightly, and he was looking both smitten and disturbed, much to the amusement of the other Wyr and the Elves.

The party stopped for lunch in a beautiful spot where a huge tree had fallen and the wood had been carved into a massive table. The table had been surrounded by stone benches that had also been carved, their thick legs covered with moss and lichens. Diffuse light filtered through the green leaves overhead. Pia could hear the faint trickle of running water nearby. The scene felt peaceful and very old.

Pia’s double, Andrea, came up to take the reins of Pia’s horse as she eased out of the saddle, her thigh muscles quivering from the unaccustomed strain of riding all morning. Come evening she was going to be in a world of hurt.

Clearly Beluviel had no such trouble, as she sprang lightly from the back of her mare. When the Elven woman joined her, Pia said, “This place is gorgeous. The tree must have been immense.”

Beluviel regarded the scene, her expression inscrutable. “Yes. I was very saddened when she fell.”

Pia looked from Beluviel’s youthful face to the table again. This time she also took in the hollows on the stone benches along with the wear underneath on the forest floor.

Dragos, Beluviel. Her mother. It was easy, she thought, to speak of ancient beings without really taking in just what that meant until the reality hit home at moments like this.

Someday, someone might look at her and realize the same thing. But nobody would look at her that way for a long, long time. She was just in her twenties, which was young by human standards, and she had mated with one of the oldest known creatures in the world. How could she expect to become his partner in anything? Even worse, how could she expect him to accept it? It was beyond crazy. Discouragement turned her limbs leaden.

While she tumbled into her private funk, Elves brushed off the top of the table and laid out flasks of wine and water, along with fruit, nuts and stacks of their indescribably delicious wayfarer bread. At the end farthest from Pia and Beluviel, they set out a variety of meats and cheeses.

Pia’s mouth watered at the sight of the loaves. She had eaten Elven wayfarer bread just once in her life, when she and Dragos had been kidnapped by Goblins and imprisoned in an Other land, and she had never forgotten the taste.

She glanced upward, but the sky was too obscured by thick tree branches and clouds to see the sun. It wouldn’t sound good to ask how soon she might be able to go to bed. “How long is the journey from here?”

“We’ll arrive before dark,” Beluviel said. “Sunset is around five thirty, which is something around forty-five minutes later than New York at this time of year. That is, if you’re up for the rest of the trip? There are a few quite comfortable cabins just an hour away if you would rather stop.”

“Not at all,” Pia told her. “I think we should travel the whole distance today.” After all the sooner she got there, the sooner she could talk with Calondir, accomplish what she came to do and go home.

She was not well adjusted at all. Most people would be thrilled at the rare privilege to see inside the Wood and travel into the heart of the Elven demesne. All she did was think about leaving as soon as she could.

Because she might have put too positive a spin on Dragos’s texts. The tricky thing about terseness was that it left so much open to interpretation, and he had only sent her nine words in total.

And it was probably pathetic that she had counted them.

Her stomach tried to clench up on her again. She shoved away the impulse and focused on eating. The other Wyr cycled behind her, always keeping two on duty while the others ate. No one remarked or looked askance at that, although she noted Beluviel’s attendants did not keep the same kind of vigilance.

She tried to think of ways to ask Beluviel about the Numenlaurians’ impending visit but she couldn’t figure out how to broach the subject without sounding like she was prying, mainly because she would be prying. In the end she said nothing, opting to wait, watch and listen. She could always ask questions later.

The group finished lunch quickly while their horses were watered, and soon they were on their way again. After traveling with her for another half an hour or so, Beluviel excused herself and moved forward to take the lead again.

An invisible hot poker settled at the base of Pia’s spine. The backache grew worse as the afternoon wore on, and her new boots rubbed blisters on her heels. The unsettled euphoria at having entered the Wood had worn off. Now its presence made her feel claustrophobic as it seemed to press on her from all sides. She could sense the crossover passage somewhere ahead as the group grew closer to it.

Eva never left her, although the other five Wyr took turns riding on her other side. Johnny and Andrea carried crossbows, and all the Wyr had swords strapped to their backs. Eva’s powerful body moved in lithe rhythm with her roan mare, her lean dark fingers handling the reins with confident ease as her black, alert gaze never stopped roaming over the scene.

Pia sank into a miserable haze, only jerking straighter as Eva said telepathically, You looking like something a cat coughed up again, princess. Need a break?

No, she said. She needed for the day to be over, and a break would only prolong her misery.

Eva turned to look her in the eyes. Are you sure, Pia?

She took a deep breath, and the muscles in her sore back throbbed while the peanut slept oblivious to it all, his energy strong and steady. Thank you, I’m sure.

You know, I don’t remember hearing Beluviel make any promises, Eva told her. In fact, I thought she sounded a little cagey.

What nonsense are you talking about now? She sighed and shifted in her saddle, but there wasn’t any position she could get into that would alleviate her discomfort.

The consort said “might” and “possibly” yesterday, Eva said. She hung with Calondir all these years, seems she could be more definite about whether or not the man would like it if you showed up on his doorstep. It’s possible he might not be as pleased as he could be. If the Numenlaurians arrive while you try to get his attention, you might be knocking yourself out like this for nothing.

She scowled. She hadn’t considered any of that. It had sounded to her like Beluviel was just being polite. Great. She grumbled, Just once I’d like you to say something I really want to hear. Besides, that’s all the more reason to push hard to get there. I need to try to talk with Calondir while I’ve got the chance.

Point, Eva admitted.

They rode for a while in silence. Just ahead, Miguel and the young Elven girl were sniping at each other again. Pia watched them as she thought. She asked Eva, Do you know anything about the prehuman war among the Elves?

You mean a civil war? Eva said, lifting her eyebrows.

Yes.

The captain shook her head. Before my time, princess.

Pia snorted, and a grin played at the corners of Eva’s mouth. Apparently there was one, and it was big and nasty. Dragos said it changed the landscape of the Earth, caused the Elves to scatter and eventually gave birth to the Light and the Dark Fae.

Shew, what a lot of drama, said Eva. The captain paused. If Numenlaur is the “old country,” then that’s where the war began?

Sounds likely, Pia replied.

Eva remarked, Makes me curious why they coming to visit Calondir and Beluviel.

Pia said, Me too. Keep your eyes and ears sharp in case you get the chance to overhear something, will you?

You bet. I’ll pass the word to the others to do the same.

Silence fell again between them, and that was the last they spoke for a while. Wowzer, thought Pia, after her and Eva’s rocky beginning, it seemed almost peaceful.

The light was beginning to wane when one of the Elves broke away from the group and ran ahead. Pia hoped that meant the Elf was taking word of their arrival to Calondir, and their destination was close at hand. She had long since stopped trying to talk with anyone and rode in a cloud of increasing tiredness.

She must have fallen into a doze, because the next thing she knew a shout of greeting sounded up ahead. She jerked into alertness.

Those at the front of the party passed around a huge age-darkened granite boulder. She looked up at the massive stone. As she neared, what had appeared at first to be random bulges and hollows aligned into an Elven face with noble features and an inscrutable expression. It was impossible to tell if the face was male or female. The sculpture held her mesmerized until she came too close to discern it, and then the stone became just a stone again.

“Will you look at that,” Eva whispered.

“What?” She glanced at the captain who was staring forward, and she looked in that direction too. At first she didn’t notice anything that might cause Eva’s wonder. The travelers from the front of the group had stopped in a clearing at the foot of a rocky waterfall, the fast-flowing, turbulent river ribboning into the trees. Elves dismounted with smiles of pleasure. They called out to others who came to greet them.

Then her perspective shifted as it had with the massive stone face, and she saw the building. It spanned the top of the waterfall, by some trick of architectural genius seeming as if suspended in the air. The building had several levels, its lines modern and ultra-plain. The outside walls were covered in plain sheets of reflective glass so that it all but disappeared from sight.

Once she saw it she couldn’t look away, and she only dismounted when Eva nudged her knee. Beluviel approached, looking as fresh and bright as she had that morning. The consort said simply, “Welcome to our home.”

Pia blinked and forced herself to concentrate on the other woman. “Thank you. It’s stunning.”

Beluviel regarded the building with the same inscrutable expression from earlier when they had talked about the tree table. “We loved the Frank Lloyd Wright house in Pennsylvania, Fallingwater, so much we chose to emulate something of that style. We finished rebuilding in the 1970s.”

She and Eva walked with Beluviel to the wide, winding staircase that had been carved into the stone by the fall, while the other Wyr gathered their packs from the horses and followed close behind. Pia forced her strained, quivering thigh muscles to work and matched the consort step for step.

As they climbed, two tall, Powerful Elves, both male, appeared on the landing at the top of the stairs and watched their approach. One of the males was Calondir. The other was Ferion, whom Pia had met last May in Folly Beach.

Both Elven males wore serious expressions. The High Lord’s hair was long and sable dark, and bound back tightly, his eyes a bright, startling blue. In the May teleconference, Pia hadn’t noticed the resemblance between Ferion and Calondir, but in person, the similarity between the two males was unmistakable. They both had the same strong, elegant bone structure.

Beluviel paused on the top step, and instinctively Pia paused with her. The High Lord and his consort faced each other with cool, perfect courtesy.

Calondir said, “Lady.”

“My lord,” Beluviel murmured.

Pia’s eyebrows slid up before she could get in control of her expression. Maybe she and Dragos would greet each other so coolly too, after they had been together for a bajillion years, but somehow she didn’t think so.

Then Calondir turned to her and inclined his head. “Greetings, Lady of the Wyr.”

Greetings, not welcome. Even though Calondir didn’t show any hint of his emotions, she was suddenly convinced that the High Lord was blazingly furious.

Clearly he was not falling over himself with excitement at her arrival.

Oy vey.