Lord's Fall

EIGHT

The Elven Councillor’s attendants had whipped around also, drawing weapons. Dragos regarded them contemptuously. Pulling guns on him was a stupid move. Firing on him would be even more stupid.

It had been a very, very long time since he had killed an Elf. He raised an eyebrow and almost smiled.

“Put away your weapons, fools!” Sidhiel snapped. Looking shaken and wild-eyed, the two attendants holstered their guns. The Elven woman regarded Dragos with abhorrence. “This is outrageous, Wyrm. You have no business approaching me for anything.”

“Quite the contrary,” said Dragos. “Talking to you has become the most important priority of my day.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” she gritted. “But I will have a great deal to say to the Elder tribunal if you do not leave me alone immediately.”

“The tribunal is not here,” Dragos said in an exceedingly gentle tone of voice. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Councillor? Perhaps a ride to the Garden.”

She hissed and yanked a BlackBerry out of her suit pocket. Moving faster than sight, Dragos grabbed her wrist. He held her effortlessly as she struggled to free herself.

Sidhiel’s attendants stood frozen. Dragos told them, “You are out of your league. There is no shame in acknowledging that. Do nothing.” They watched him unblinkingly and didn’t move.

Sidhiel’s eyes widened as her BlackBerry grew hot. “Stop. Stop it!”

He said nothing. With a gasp the Elf’s fingers sprang open, and her BlackBerry tumbled to the ground. As both he and Sidhiel watched, the phone glowed red and melted into a dangerous, acrid smelling puddle that steamed on the frozen sidewalk.

Sidhiel’s gaze raised, her features sliced with impotent fury. “You are a blight upon this Earth.”

“I’m always amused at how the Elves insist upon vilifying me,” he remarked. “Your pot is much blacker than my kettle. Yes, I hunted some of you long ago before I grew and evolved. But you killed so very many more of yourselves than I ever did, and you tore up the Earth while you did so.”

“My gods, I loathe you.”

“About that cup of coffee,” said Dragos. As she turned woodenly toward the hotel entrance, he told her, “Not in a public restaurant. Your suite or my limo. Or even my suite at the Garden, if you prefer.”

After a brief struggle with the choices he offered, she turned to her attendants. “Go. Wait for me at the main entrance to Madison Square Garden. If I am not there shortly, call the head of the tribunal and tell him what has happened.”

“Councillor,” said the taller of her attendants.

“You can do nothing here,” she said through white lips. “But you can bear witness to my absence.” She threw a scathing glance at Dragos. “You will be held accountable for anything you do.”

“You should be careful when you talk of accountability, Sidhiel,” he growled. “I am not a patient man at the best of times. Now my mate is visiting your demesne, and I cannot get in contact with her.”

She stood rigid, her startled gaze searching his face. Then she gestured to her attendants, gave him a curt nod and strode with him to the sleek black Mercedes limousine that idled at the curb.

In the back of the limo, Dragos settled back in his seat with his arms crossed. He watched indifferently as the Elf positioned herself so that she avoided any accidental contact with his long legs. Without any further preamble, he said, “You may not have heard, but Beluviel invited Pia into Lirithriel Wood so that she could talk with Calondir. They traveled in yesterday morning.”

Sidhiel’s gaze flickered. “No, I had not heard.” She added slowly, “Someone should have warned you that cell phones do not work in the Wood.”

“I already know that,” he said impatiently. “What I want to know is if the Wood can block spells.”

“What kind of spells?” Sidhiel asked suspiciously.

He studied the Elf, his mouth tight. He was secretive by nature, and he hated to give up any kind of information to her, but there was no other way for him to find out what he needed to know. He said, “I have been dream casting, but last night either it didn’t reach Pia or she didn’t sleep. I chose to talk with you before I went down to South Carolina to discover for myself if she is all right.”

The Elf sucked in a breath, but she replied calmly enough. “There is no reason for alarm or for acting hastily. I believe in this case the Wood might have caused interference. Spell casting from within its borders is quite a different experience from casting a spell from the outside. It is important to keep in mind, Cuelebre—the Elves do not regard Pia in the same light as we do you. No one wishes her any harm.”

“So everyone has said,” he replied, eyeing her coldly. “Which is why I finally agreed to her visit in the first place. It does, however, occur to me that not everyone may have the same definition of harm. For instance, someone might think that taking my mate hostage would be a good way to try to control me. Then of course once you start talking about taking hostages, a whole new chessboard emerges.”

He watched realization dawn, and the Elf’s face went ashen. Her gaze darted to the scenery passing by outside the limousine’s windows. Madison Square Garden was several blocks southwest of the Plaza Hotel, and they were nowhere near the vicinity. The Councillor whispered hoarsely, “You do not want to do this.”

“Do I not?” He settled himself more comfortably. “Since we are talking, perhaps you can tell me why Numenlaurians have decided to visit Calondir.”

Sidhiel made a sharp gesture. “No one knows the answer to that except the Numenlaurians.”

“Speculate,” Dragos said.

“That would be pointless and irresponsible,” she bit out.

“Very well, if you won’t, I will,” he said softly. “I can think of one reason why Numenlaur would contact Calondir after silence for all these years. It’s the same reason that drove you to war in the first place when you fools discovered the Deus Machinae, and you thought you could control them.”

The Deus Machinae. The God Machines, items of Power that the seven Elder Races gods had cast to Earth at the time of creation in order to enact their will. The Elder Races had many myths of the Deus Machinae. At times the items appeared to be weapons or pieces of armor, and at other times jewelry or a tool. Their forms did not remain fixed. Their real nature was something infinitely more Powerful.

The Elf shifted in a sudden movement, her body oddly graceless, and a haunted expression entered her large, blue eyes. “We didn’t know then what we know now,” she said. “We thought the Deus Machinae had been given to us to use. We didn’t realize the Machinae would use us.”

“You thought they were yours to use as you saw fit, just as you thought you had the right to reshape the Earth,” he said, his quiet tone scathing. “You were ever arrogant that way.”

He had long held a fascination with the underlying patterns in the world—magic systems, science, the ever-shifting reality of economics and politics—and in the back of his mind, he was constantly piecing and repiecing together bits of information, like working on a gigantic puzzle of the universe.

Several pieces of information snicked into place, and another potential pattern came together in his head.

These things were set in motion at the beginning, along with the laws of the universe and of Time itself.

That voice from the Oracle’s prophecy. Numenlaur. The Deus Machinae, the seven items from the seven gods of the Elder Races, thrown to Earth at the beginning and working the will of the gods as they tumbled through history. Pure and primal, not form but Form, indivisible.

The world was not just filled with prophecy and predators, but it was filled with Power too. So much of the drama that played out on the modern-day stage came from the first things and the first creatures. First among those creatures were the gods themselves.

It was clear he would get no more out of the Elf. Once her usefulness to him ended, he lost interest in her.

The limousine pulled smoothly up to the curb at Cuelebre Tower. As the vehicle rolled to a stop, a young Wyr male ran out of the Starbucks on the ground floor, wearing a green apron and carrying a covered cup. As the Starbucks employee reached the limo, Dragos opened the door and climbed out.

He took the cup and bent in the open door to hand it to Sidhiel, who took it cautiously as though she expected it to explode in her face. “Here is your coffee, Councillor,” said Dragos. He met her gaze. “Don’t try to leave New York until I know for sure my mate is free and safe. I don’t think the journey would go well for you. Enjoy the games today.”

Color washed her pale features, and her pale gaze glittered with equal parts fear and fury. He stood back and watched the limo pull away from the curb. Then he pulled out his iPhone and hit speed dial.

Bayne answered on the first ring. “Yup, got two people following the limo now.”

Dragos said, “She can do anything she wants as long as she doesn’t leave town. If she does try to leave, call and let me know.”

“You got it.”

He clicked his phone off. Sidhiel would make sure that there were repercussions for him frightening her and issuing threats, but that was an issue to face on another day.

A slicing winter wind whistled down the tall corridors created by the skyscrapers, stinging his skin. He ignored it and turned to face south while logic and instinct clashed inside, building pressure. These days there was always more pressure.

Logic said that Pia was all right, that the Wood’s influence was just as Sidhiel said it was, and that it interfered with spells cast from the outside. While he had sensed a great deal of hate in Sidhiel, at that point in the conversation she had spoken plainly and he had not sensed any insincerity in what she had told him.

Logic also reminded him that Pia had five days left of the week they had agreed upon. Five days was a very short amount of time, despite the Powers that were active and moving through the world. In the meantime, he knew Pia was also awake and thinking about their missed dream date. He should give her time to send him a message, at least a day and perhaps two.

But instinct was a much more simple and overriding imperative. It drove him unmercifully and roared that she was gone, gone.

And the fact of the matter was, he was not actually needed at the games today. The contestants would fight each other, and half of them would lose, and tonight there would be twenty-eight left. And Kris could shoulder for the short term whatever business crisis hit, just as he always did when Dragos had to travel. Bayne and the other sentinels would call if they needed to get in touch with him. Dragos’s presence wasn’t essential until the final round of combat, the day after tomorrow.

He should not cross the Elven border.

And he never did well with things he should not do.

The intolerable pressure that had built up inside him eased as he took to the air. It was an unutterable relief to fly south.

He would go as far as the city limit. That was all.

Once he reached that point, he would decide what he would do next.

The fastest messenger in the group was Hugh, the gargoyle who could fly out in a few hours the distance that had taken them an entire day to travel by horseback.

Theoretically.

Pia thought of the stories of the lost hikers, and her stomach tightened at the possibility that the Wood might somehow interfere with Hugh’s flight. What if it screwed with his sense of direction so that he flew in circles? If that happened, who knew when he might emerge?

Eva didn’t like the idea of sending out their only avian capability, but then Pia was pretty sure that Eva didn’t like anything that she thought of. “Stop wasting time,” Pia said. “You know it’s got to be Hugh if we’re going to have any chance of getting in touch with Dragos quickly.”

“Fuck,” said Eva. “Fine.” She turned to Hugh. “Get ready to go.”

“You got it,” said Hugh.

By then everybody in the apartment was awake and alert. While Hugh prepared for the journey, Pia sent Johnny out to look for an attendant. Johnny returned almost immediately, followed by a pleasant-faced attendant who wore the High Lord’s plain green-and-brown house uniform.

“Good morning, Lady,” the Elf said, smiling. “Would you and your group like breakfast brought up to your rooms?”

Nobody outside the group needed to know the reason for Hugh’s journey. Pia told the Elf, “I must send a messenger to Charleston right away. I need to know how safe he will be traveling through the Wood.”

The Elf blinked rapidly. “You are the High Lord’s welcome guests,” he said. “The Wood will not harm either you or your messenger, but if you are concerned in any way and can wait for a short while, I’m sure the Lord or Lady would be most happy to send an escort.”

Pia looked at Hugh, who had returned to the room. The gargoyle balanced on the balls of his feet, his long rawboned body coiled with readiness. His sword and crossbow were strapped to his back, and he carried a belt filled with crossbow bolts angled across his chest along with a long knife in a sheath tied to one thigh. He no longer looked sleepy. He looked interested and capable, and very deadly.

Hugh shook his head at Pia’s unspoken inquiry. “I’m good.”

Once again, Pia thought back to the events in May. It had taken Dragos and her several hours to make the journey back to New York, but part of that time had been spent traveling out of an Other land.

If Dragos chose to travel south this morning, there was no guarantee how he would make the journey. If he took the corporate jet, he could hit the Charleston International Airport as soon as two hours from the point of departure. And who knows when he might decide to take off? The only thing she felt confident about was that he would wait as long as possible in case she had simply been very late to bed. Now that morning was officially here, it was possible he was already airborne.

“Go as fast as you can,” Pia said to Hugh. Telepathically, she added, If you don’t get through to Dragos right away, call Graydon or Bayne. She paused. Dammit, there was no way for them to know which sentinel might be fighting when, or if they might be recovering from an injury. Actually, try all the sentinels until you talk to a live person, but don’t just rely on them to pass on a message. Keep trying yourself to get through to Dragos and call to him telepathically as well. He has a much larger telepathic range than anyone else.

All right, Hugh said, frowning. But since I’ve never talked with him telepathically before, I don’t know if I’ll be able to connect.

Exasperated, Pia said, Look, Dragos might already be in South Carolina by the time you get out of the Wood, so just try everything you can to get in touch with him, and don’t stop until you get through and actually talk to him yourself. If you tell him I’m okay, maybe we don’t have to have anything turn into a disaster, all right?

Right, Hugh said.

Eva walked out with Hugh and the Elf. Several minutes later Eva returned alone, and she asked, “Now what?”

Pia had gone to the window to stare out. The early morning was shrouded in a thick veil of fog. She could barely see the water down below. The only details that she could see when she looked toward the horizon were black tree branches that appeared in the dull white fog like dismembered limbs. She shuddered at the thought.

“Now we figure out how to get some breakfast, and I’ll send a request to speak with Calondir,” Pia said. “Maybe either Ferion or Linwe will show us around like Beluviel suggested. And we wait.”

And as for herself, she would be crossing her fingers that the day did not end badly.

Breakfast turned out to be a simple and social affair. The same Elf from earlier returned to ask if Pia would like food to be brought up to her apartment, or if she would prefer to come down to the main hall. After washing and dressing in a clean pair of jeans and sweater, Pia was more than ready to leave their rooms.

The main hall was quite large with several tables, a high ceiling, more flagstone floors, two fireplaces at either end that were so massive a grown man could walk into the ash pits, and walls that were mostly windows and that provided more views of the river and the forest. The trees and rocky forest floor were dark with moisture and occasional patches of startling green moss, and tendrils of fog drifted along the foaming water at the foot of the falls.

One of the hallways must lead to the kitchens, for a couple of servers moved back and forth from that direction, carrying full trays of breads, fruits and meat to sideboards that were set against one wall. People ate and talked in clusters, sometimes in English but quite often in their lyrical tongue. Most of those in the hall were Elves, but a smattering of other races were also present: a couple of dwarves, three humans with sparks of Power that identified them as witches, and an elderly male medusa whose head snakes trailed a few inches along the floor.

The atmosphere was relaxed and cordial. Pia and her group served themselves and sat at one end of a long table to eat, nodding and smiling at folks as they returned morning greetings. Calondir, Beluviel and Ferion were all absent, and Pia didn’t think any of the Elves in the hall were from Numenlaur.

For one thing, it looked like people knew each other with the ease of long acquaintance. Also, most of them were dressed in a mix of Elvish and modern American clothing, an unlikely combination for someone from an enclave society. Leggings and sneakers seemed to be a popular combination. A few wore leggings, tall boots, tunics and jeans jackets.

Folks looking street chic, Eva remarked in her head. Lookee there. That homeboy got a hoodie.

I have not forgiven you for yesterday, Pia said. Just so we’re clear.

That okay, princess. I surviving juuust fine.

Pia’s gaze slid sideways to Eva, whose wide black gaze remained innocent. She compressed her lips. Clearly Eva needed no encouragement, but she might actually get worse if Pia smiled or laughed.

On the captain’s other side, James, Hugh and Miguel discussed the Sentinel Games. Pia realized they were making bets on who would win through to the final seven positions. Johnny ate silently with quick economy while he drummed the table with the fingers of one hand. No doubt he missed his Angry Birds.

Then she noticed the top of a blue-tipped head weaving its way through a knot of talking people at the other side of the room. Linwe shouldered between two people and walked toward them.

“Oh look, here she come,” crooned Miguel. “I love that girl. I love her.” As Linwe stopped beside their table, smiling, Miguel said to her, “Please tell me you starred in a spring break video called Elf Babes Gone Wild.”

At that both Pia and Eva swiveled to stare at him. Miguel glanced from one unsmiling face to the other. “Come on, I asked her if she was legal,” he said. “She’s thirty.”

Linwe grimaced. “I lied. I’m only sixteen.”

Miguel looked stricken. Eva pointed at him and said, “You gonna get your ass arrested someday. That’s if you lucky, and I don’t beat you to a pulp first.”

Linwe’s bright peal of laughter rang out. Dancing brown eyes met Pia’s. I am actually thirty, but please don’t tell him, Linwe said.

I won’t, Pia promised grimly. He deserves to sweat a little. I apologize for his behavior.

Please don’t feel that’s necessary, Linwe said. I’m at least partway to blame, since I goaded him all day yesterday. Aloud, the Elf said, “I heard you would enjoy a tour.”

“Yes, please, as long as the High Lord can contact me if he becomes available for an audience,” Pia replied.

“If that happens, a runner will find us.”

“Very well.” Pia stood, and all the others stood too. She said to Miguel, “No.” As his face fell, Pia told Eva, “Two on. You pick.”

“Me and Johnny,” Eva said immediately.

“Fine.” She smiled at Linwe. “Thank you for showing us around.”

“That is entirely my pleasure,” Linwe said.

For the next hour Linwe took Pia on a tour of the heart of Lirithriel Wood, while Eva and Johnny followed silently. The High Lord’s house had four levels, two of them deeply carved into bedrock.

By the time they stepped outdoors the fog had dissipated, leaving behind a gray, overcast day. Underneath the heavy blanket of old-growth trees, the landscape itself was full of curves and ridges like the whorls of a fingerprint or a gnarled tree trunk.

Many other small buildings dotted the area, cleverly hidden in nooks between the trees, and Pia was fascinated to find, there were more of the subtle there/not there Elven faces carved into large boulders. She started to look for them in rocks of any size, but several times they still surprised her, one moment hidden and the next moment coming visible.

Throughout the entire tour Pia could feel the crossover passageway, but either the underlying curl of the land itself or the Wood’s presence kept her from pinpointing where it was until suddenly they came upon it.

Pia jerked to a halt, staring. Behind her, Eva and Johnny had to pull up hard to avoid running into her back.

Just ahead the trees opened up to a small clearing where stairs had been carved into the stony ground, leading downward and reshaping the floor of what must have once been a natural ravine. On the other side of the stairs, the walls had also been shaped and carved with a graceful, interlocking pattern. Even though she was standing several yards away, the Power of the passageway tugged at her.

She said, “I’m amazed the sculptors were able to keep their equilibrium long enough in the passageway to carve anything, let alone something so intricate and beautiful.”

Linwe said cheerfully, “They were old.” She grinned as all three Wyr laughed. “I meant that. Our ancients are very strong in their affinity to the elements.”

“Do you have an affinity to an element?” Pia asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Mine is air.” Pia blinked as a sudden breeze tickled her cheek. Linwe said, “I’m quite young, though, and that’s the extent of what I can do. One of our most Powerful ancients could take that same affinity to air and create a storm the size of Hurricane Rita.” The Elf held up a slim hand. “Not that I’m saying that creating a storm of that size would be a good thing. And one or two of our ancients, the ones who are especially gifted, have an affinity to more than one element. Those tend to be compatible with each other. Fire and air. Water and earth. That sort of thing.”

That was the best conversational opening Pia had seen yet, and she took it. “Speaking of ancients, I hear that Elves from Numenlaur are visiting.”

A shadow darkened Linwe’s animated expression. “Yes, although very few people have seen them. They have been closeted away ever since they arrived. I heard one of them might be ill.”

Whatever Pia might have expected to hear, that wasn’t it. She wasn’t aware Elves could suffer from illness. “I’m sorry.”

Linwe shrugged a slender shoulder. “It’s gossip. I don’t know anything for sure.”

“Do your ancients ever talk about why they warred with each other?” Pia asked.

Johnny and Eva’s silence grew more intense. When she looked over her shoulder, the other two Wyr stood several feet away and appeared to be studying the carved patterns in the passageway.

She could also tell by Linwe’s wide-eyed glance that she had surprised the other woman. “You know of that?”

It was her turn to shrug. How much should she admit to knowing? Keep it simple, stupid. She said, “Dragos is my mate.”

That seemed to have more impact than she had expected. Linwe’s eyes rounded, and she took a deep breath and blew it out so that her blue-tipped bangs bounced in the air. “Yes, of course,” Linwe said. “Then you must know of the Deus Machinae.”

The whosie whatsit?

Pia smiled. She said, “I don’t know the details of the story the way you learned it.”

Either Linwe didn’t notice that Pia was pumping her for information or she didn’t care. The Elf said, “I was taught that there are things on this Earth, Powerful things that were put here by the gods to enact their will. They have had many forms and have been called many names over time, but ever since the time of the classic Greek poets—Horace, Euripides, Aeschylus and such—they have been called the Deus Machinae, or the God Machines.”

Pia shook her head and murmured, “I haven’t had much of a classical education, but wasn’t the deus ex machina a plot device in Greek plays?”

Linwe’s gaze touched hers briefly. “Yes, it literally means the ‘god from the machine.’ Anyway at one point, or so I’ve heard the story go, the Elves had possession of all seven of the Deus Machinae at once, and they agreed this was a significant event. Then they began to argue about which of them was meant to rule and how.”

“I take it that didn’t go so well,” Pia said dryly.

“No, not so well. Some said the one who possessed Taliesin’s Machine was destined to rule, for Taliesin is the god over all the other gods. Others said, no, Inanna, the goddess of Love, should reign supreme. Or perhaps Azrael, the god of Death. Or the bearer of Hyperion’s item, since Law is the cornerstone of any civilization. Whether it was their ambition or the Power of the Machinae themselves, the ancients couldn’t agree. Instead they—we—came to blows. Apparently we nearly destroyed ourselves.”

“Dragos said it caused a diaspora,” she said softly.

Linwe glanced at her. “Yes, those who survived finally came together and made a covenant. They split into seven groups, and each group took an item. Numenlaur was one of them. The other six groups promised to travel far away from each other, so that they would dissipate the Power of the Machinae, and end the war and all the chaos that had come with it. All seven groups were supposed to cast their items into the world, letting the gods’ will work where it would.”

Pia became aware suddenly of a cold, steady wind that blew along the crossover passageway. The wind must have come from the Other land for it smelled strange, and it felt wet and heavy with a sense of snow that the Wood didn’t have on this side of the passage. She shivered, pulled her anorak close and asked, “Did they do it?”

Linwe shook her head. “Nobody knows for sure. Maybe they did. Maybe some of the groups lied and said they did, but instead they kept their items. Or maybe they tried to keep them only to have the Machinae slip out of their grasps, because no one can control the will of the gods. Some of the original groups disappeared, and Numenlaur closed itself off from the rest of the world. All I know is that our High Lord and Lady kept their word.”

Maybe those groups that had disappeared were the precursors to the Light and Dark Fae. Linwe’s faith in her demesne rulers was touching, but Pia couldn’t help but wonder if it was naive. She ducked her head, trying to keep her expression neutral. She asked, “Whose item did Calondir and Beluviel carry away with them?”

“Inanna’s, the goddess of Love,” the Elf said, smiling. “At the time, Inanna’s Machine appeared as a golden chalice that fit into two cupped hands.” She held her hands together to demonstrate the size. “The goddess was depicted as riding a chariot around the bowl, and seven gold lions circled the base.”

“It sounds like it must have been striking.”

“I’ve heard that it was so beautiful, apparently everyone who saw it wanted to drink from it. The High Lord’s group sailed west across the ocean. When they sighted land, everyone in the group drank from the chalice one last time so that they all felt the goddess’s Power, and then he threw it overboard.”

“Dramatic but effective,” Pia murmured, recalling the tapestry with Calondir and a gold cup in their apartment. She wondered which group ended up with Taliesin’s item.

Not only did the convoluted Wood mess with her sense of direction, but with the sky so overcast, she couldn’t guess how much time had passed. She glanced skyward, then at Eva, who said, Been a couple hours. Hugh should have made it out by now.

Which told Pia exactly nothing. She took a deep breath and tried to ease the tension that had knotted the muscles at the base of her neck. Either shit would hit the fan or it wouldn’t. Apparently that was the story of her day.

Story of her life, come to that.

After thanking Linwe for the tour, Pia chose to go back to their rooms. The others played chess, did sit-ups and push-ups and napped. Johnny coaxed Pia into playing a game of chess too, but she knew little beyond the basic moves and she was too preoccupied to focus well, and he trounced her thoroughly. Afterward she went to her bedroom to pace.

Calondir did not grant her an audience. Neither Beluviel nor Ferion appeared. Pia did not hear anything from Dragos or about him. Beluviel did send a note of apology and promised to see Pia the next day, but other than that nothing at all happened for the rest of the day.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.