Servant of the Bone Tree

Chapter 7: A Fairy in the Royal Court

Emrys blocked Dara’s blow with ease. The fairy was filled with tricks, but Emrys was becoming used to them.

Dara vanished suddenly in a cloud of smoke, reappearing behind Emrys with his own club poised to strike. Without turning around, Emrys knew that Dara would be there. He ducked and the blow swept over his head. Then he turned his body around as he kicked, putting all of the strength that he could into his foot.

His bootheel connected with Dara’s stomach, sending the fairy tumbling backwards. He landed on his feet. Straight away, Dara closed his eyes, and suddenly there were two of him. They both charged simultaneously, attacking Emrys at two diagonal angles.

Emrys had seen this trick before too. He used his keen senses and saw that the Dara on the left was not quite whole. It was an illusion, slightly translucent as it passed through a column of moonlight that shone down through the tower’s ruined ceiling.

He ignored the illusion, and instead brought his club to meet the real Dara’s own. The illusion vanished. Wood cracked against wood. Emrys pushed with all the strength that he could, matching the incoming impact of Dara’s thrust. The fairy was gritting his teeth from the strain, but Emyrs still had strength left.

With his free hand, he made a fist, and struck at Dara’s temple. Dara fell backwards, landing so hard on the stone floor that it cracked in places. Emrys’s instincts told him to finish the job. To bring down his club in a killing blow, and to leave Dara dead upon the palace floor.

But he took a deep breath. Control was coming easier to him now. Instead of continuing the fight, he bent down and offered Daraa hand, which the fairy took gladly.

Dara brushed himself down. Despite the intensity of their training session, he had not even broken a sweat.

Emrys let the blood rage dissipate. His exhaustion came in a sudden wave, making him groan, causing his legs to buckle. Dara laughed, offering an arm for Emrys to hold onto, to make sure that his stayed upright.

“Very good,” said Dara. “Excellent in fact. I do believe you could match me with strength now.”

“Your magical tricks didn’t do much good either.”

“Those were just tricks. If I was attacking you with true, dangerous spells, then you wouldn’t be alive to discuss the matter.”

“No matter how well I do, you have to claim you can do better, don’t you?”

“Merely speaking facts, dear boy,” said Dara with a grin.

He collected a glass of water from a nearby table, as well as a platter of dried fruits. Emrys took the offering gladly. He drank until his goblet was empty and put handfuls of the dried berries in his mouth, swallowing them by the dozen.

Dara watched Emrys gorging himself with a raised eyebrow. Emrys blushed and spoke with his mouth still full.

“What?” he said. “I’m hungry.”

“You’ve been here too long. You need bread, meat, and honey. All of those things that you humans are so excellent at making. The scraps of the Dark World won’t sustain you enough forever.”

“Maybe not. But I’d better get used to them. I’m supposed to be spending my life here eventually, after all.”

“Indeed,” said Dara. “Even so, you have been training relentlessly for over a week. You should go and keep an eye on things in your world. Every day you spend here is time that passes. Time where your sister might be needing you.”

At the mention of his sister, Emrys stopped chewing. Guilt raked him. He hated not being with her, especially as ill as she was, but what choice did he have? He needed to train in order to defeat Gwern. If he wasn’t at his strongest, then he wouldn’t be able to protect her.

He cut his finger and rubbed the blood on his bone pendent. In a flash of mist, the bone palace vanished.

*

Emrys blinked as the world came back into focus. He was in the servant’s quarters again, and Angharad was asleep in bed. An untouched meal was next to her on the bedside, and the hearth had gone out. He went over and lit it at once, barking at the nearest servant he could find, reminding them of the importance of keeping her warm.

Then we went back to Angharad. Gently he nudged her awake. Her breathing was shallow and infrequent, and the sight of his weakened sister made Emrys terrified.

She opened her eyes slowly. It seemed to take her an age to truly come to consciousness and realize where she was. But when focused on Emrys’s face at last, she managed a weak smile.

“You came back,” she said.

“I always will.”

“I have so much to tell you.”

“Try not to speak,” said Emrys. “You’re weak enough as it is. Whatever news you have, I’m sure I can learn it from someone else. I just wanted to apologize for leaving you for so long. But I’ve become stronger. A lot stronger. I know I can beat Gwern now.”

“What I have to say can’t wait.”

“We have several weeks before the stone circle, sister.”

“Emrys, listen to me.”

She spoke with such suddenness and insistence, that Emrys relented.

Angharad forced herself up to a sitting position. The effort of even small movement seemed to cause her intense pain- enough that she screwed up her eyes, and the muscles in her stick-thin arms began to shake. When she was sat up, she looked Emrys dead in the eyes. Her gaze was serious, and wide with worry.

“Gwern has contacted the Dark World,” she said. “He seeks the same power that you’ve found.”

“That doesn’t matter. Dara knows better than to teach him.”

“He didn’t go to the bone palace. He invited a fairy here to the real world, and now the Fae are sharing his court, teaching him how to fight with magic. Emrys, he has been performing dark spells in court. The servants say that he tortured a man without touching him, simply by glaring at him from atop his throne. The Fae with him is a dark man named Veon, who seems to delight in teaching Gwern how to inflict pain.”

Emrys squared his jaw, absorbing the news with misery.

If the servants spoke true, then Gwern was using a different kind of magic to the kind that Dara taught. This was not simply berserker magic, but true spells that could influence the real world.

If he could perform true magic, then it didn’t matter how strong Emrys became. As Dara had warned, true magic would be the death of him if used in battle. If Gwern had only to look at him to cause him pain, then Emrys wouldn’t even be able to get close enough to strike him.

“I’m leaving,” he said, standing at once.

“Where?” said Angharad. “You can’t leave me again. Please, I beg you!”

“You’ll be safe in bed. Gwern has already told the local axe-bearers to leave us alone, until the battle in the stone circle is finished.”

“But he hasn’t stuck to his promise. There is more I need to tell you!”

Emrys listened as patiently as he could as Angharad explained what had passed in the Ancestral Hall. When Emrys learned about her being dragged out of bed, and cut so she bled, rage filled his heart. He began to pace the room as he listened, his consciousness beginning to blur as he dipped in and out of a blood rage.

“That’s how he did it,” Angharad said at last. “I think he is done with me now, but who knows? They say the crown prince is turning mad. There are whispers that people have even seen the Sax in his court, visiting as though they are close friends.”

“Then I will speak to him. The fight in the stone circle can wait.”

“But he will kill you!”

“Then what would you have me do? Bend my knee to a traitor?”

Angharad fell silent, tears in the corners of her eyes. Emrys had shouted at her, his voice loud enough that it echoed throughout their chambers.

He hadn’t meant to, but rage was overwhelming him. He took a deep breath to steady it, but the damage was already done. Angharad cowered away from him in her bed, terrified.

“Perhaps you’re going mad as well,” she muttered. “Perhaps Cwm is destined to be ruled by madmen.”

*

Gwern sat in his throne, drinking from a goblet next to him. It was his eighteenth cup of wine that day, and he was drunk and delirious. But he didn’t rightly care. He was enjoying himself, and magic left him with a thirst that he could not satiate.

“Bring out the next prisoner!” he demanded.

Morgan was at the side of the room, dressed in his elder robes. He grimaced at the Heir’s request.

“The prisons are near empty,” he said. “Those left have committed only petty crimes, and don’t deserve to be punished so.”

“If you argue with me again father, then perhaps you can be my next plaything.”

On the chair next to throne, Veon laughed with childish delight, clapping his hands together in glee. “Oh what a jape that would be!” he declared. “Son turning against father. Really, I don’t know how you humans think of such things. Do it, Lord. Do it!”

“Peace, Veon,” said Gwern, fixing the fairy with a glare. But nothing could stop Veon’s mirth. He laughed so much that he held his stomach muscles, bending over double in his chair.

The fairy had been at court for three night now, and in that time he had been named as Gwern’s own Regent, superseding Morgan. For the first time in a thousand years, a fairy held true power in Cwm. He enjoyed that power immensely, causing general chaos in the City of the Day. He order for men to be thrown in jail for looking at him funny, and he claimed their wives as prizes, taking them out on the street as though they were common whores.

It was uncouth, but certainly amusing, Gwern thought. Besides, the fairy’s appointment was just a means to an end. Gwern needed to learn magic and having a fairy in court demonstrated to everyone his true power. He was the Chosen One, selected by the Fae. How better to show that, then to have a fairy sit alongside him as he ruled?

Gwern’s day was interrupted when Emrys appeared at the front door of his halls. At once, two axe-bearers moved to block him.

“No, no,” said Gwern, taking a draught of his wine, “let him through. He wouldn’t dare cause trouble in here.”

Emrys pushed passed the axe-bearers regardless. He stood in front of the throne wielding his club.

Such a ridiculous weapon, Gwern thought. He looks like a common savage.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, cousin?” Gwern asked.

“You hurt my sister whilst I was gone,” said Emrys. “Challenge or no challenge, I swear that any man who touches that girl shall be killed by my hand.”

“Oh do relax. I’ve gotten what I need of her.” He nodded to Veon, who was watching the scene with amusement. “I have a fairy of my own now. I can see why you like yours so much. They are ever so much fun, and they have ever such powerful secrets.”

Evidently, Emrys had only heard the first few words that had come from Gwern’s mouth. He stood there with his free fist clenched. His face was screwed up in fury.

“Relax?” he roared. “You dare ask me to relax?”

He ran towards the throne, his club bared to strike at Gwern face.

Gwern resisted the urge to flinch. There was no need. He simply concentrated all his focus at his cousin. He brought to mind all of his hatred of the man. Every ill thing he had wished upon him.

At once, Emrys collapsed to the ground in pain. Gwern was burning a magical fire at the pit of Emrys’s stomach, and he allowed it grow in intensity.

“Let’s forget about this little exchange, shall we?” Gwern said. “I still intend to kill you in the stone circle, even if you will not honor your challenge. Axe-bearers, drag this man from my throne room. I’m sick of looking at him.”

*

Emrys couldn’t resist as he was dragged from the room, and back to the Royal Halls. Though Gwern stopped staring at him, the ghost of the burning in his stomach still flared with pain. He had never let something burn him from within before.

Gwern had only lit the fire there for a matter of seconds, but it had been enough to cripple Emrys. If he had held it for any longer, Emrys was sure he would be dead.

*

In their chambers, Angharad was still awake. She continued to cower away from Emrys, but Emrys ignored her. At once he cut his hand and wiped blood upon his bone charm.

A moment later, he was in the bone palace again. He strode right up to Dara, staring the fairy in the eyes.

“I need to become a mage this second,” he said. “I’m not asking for permission, this time.”