Child of Light, page 35
—
With Harrow supporting me, we depart the cottage and the sisters. We get as far as the end of the lane before I hear footsteps behind us. Benith comes running to catch up, so we stop to wait for her. There is an intensity of purpose about her that is arresting. But I do not think I can stand to hear anything more about my impossible situation.
“I forgot to mention something important, Auris,” she says even before she reaches us. She stumbles to a halt, breathing hard. “Once I told you I thought you might be a Changeling. In the Fae culture, a Changeling is one who can assume a different look or identity at will. And even though you have not shown these powers as yet, I still think it is possible. If so, it might mean your body will behave in ways that are different from what any of us suppose. It is not unreasonable to think it might even be able to inhibit the workings of this device implanted inside you. The device might not function as the Humans think because of who and what you are.”
I stare at her, thinking through the ramifications of what she is saying. “But I cannot tell this, can I? I cannot know what my Changeling blood will do. None of us can. I may still be a beacon that leads an army into Viridian.”
She nods. “I’m sorry. But I had to tell you once more that my instincts suggest there might still be hope. You are not yet bound to any one fate.”
I know she means well. I know she wants me to understand that there is still hope for me. But I see only one path forward, one way to be sure that I will not cause a disaster. Even so, I take her in my arms and hold her close, whispering in her ear. “Thank you. Thank you and your sisters for trying to help. I wish I knew more about myself than I do, but your words are important.”
We break our embrace, and I watch her walk slowly back to the cottage. I know she came after me to give me hope, but I feel no hope at all. I begin to sob.
Harrow turns me into him and I melt into his arms. I am devastated all over again. My Changeling self has not manifested if it is indeed present, and there is no help for me. All I can do is depart quickly before all of Viridian is lost. It is the conclusion I most feared, and it has come to pass. There is no compromising; there is no second best choice. My fate was decided when my father inserted the tracking device and made it impossible to remove it from my body.
Like my mother, I feel violated. Not sexually, but very personally nevertheless. That he could have done such a thing has made it clear I can never consider him my father—not even if his blood and mine are the same. I cannot bear to think of us as being anything alike. His choice to use me so callously is unforgivable. He will never be my father; I will never accord him that right. Not even if he was, for some reason, to come to think of me as his daughter and not just a means to an end. He will always be Dr. Allensby, and I will always hate him.
“We are not done yet,” Harrow says quietly.
I pull back in shock. “What are you talking about? I told you I would leave if the sisters could not find a way to remove or disable the tracker and if I would lead the invasion here. And you promised you wouldn’t try to stop me.”
“There is still Ancrow. She might have found a way to help. We need to go to her before we give up. She has solved other problems arising from Human attempts to conquer Viridian Deep. She might be able to solve this one.”
I find this to be wishful thinking, but I respect and love him enough that I do not spurn his advice. When I needed help most—back when I had escaped the Goblin prisons and was facing a slow wastelands death from lack of water or recapture by pursuing Goblins—he was there to save me. Plus, there was that instinctive sense I had on the submersible, that Ancrow somehow held the answer.
“Let’s go to her right now then,” I tell him. “There is nothing to be gained by putting this off.”
We start to walk to Ancrow’s home, but as we near the city proper, I pull him aside and hold him firmly at arm’s length, not daring to risk drawing him closer. “Listen to me,” I say. “If Ancrow has no answer, I must leave, and I want you to promise to let me go. Don’t beg me to change my mind or offer to come with me. I will have to go back into the Human world, and that is no place for you. Please promise you will honor this request, no matter how we feel about each other. I am not strong enough to follow through if you insist on stopping me. So promise me you will let me go.”
He studies me carefully, his lean features intense, his body held still in my grip. “I promise, Auris.”
I release him and we walk on. We do not speak further, lost in thought, already contemplating what we will find when we come face-to-face with Ancrow once more. I am dreading what I know I will hear. I am already preparing myself so that I will not break down. I do not want her to see me cry. I do not want to appear weak in front of her.
As we walk, I look around at everything we pass, taking in as much as I can of this city, this forested world, and the people—my people—who live here. So many wonderful moments have I enjoyed here; so many are still waiting to be experienced. Once I had nothing—no family, no home, no past, and no future. All this I have found in Viridian. All that matters in this life is here. I can take a little comfort from this in the time I have left. I can celebrate what I have been given, even if I am not going to be able to hold on to anything more than memories.
Harrow is going to be hardest of all to leave. I love him, and I always thought we would build a life together. We worked so hard to make that happen—even when our efforts were directed not to that end but to other goals entirely. Making me well after he saved me. Teaching me skills that would keep me alive and safe. Coming to each other’s rescue. Making it possible for me to have a new family. We have shared so much in these past months, and it is all coming to an end.
We reach the city center and climb toward the upper levels, to our destination. I harden myself against false expectations and remind myself that nothing is forever and nothing is given without cost. Whatever is asked—or demanded—of me, I will give willingly if the results will help Viridian Deep and the Fae.
My thoughts drift. I think again of Benith’s comments on the possibility of my Changeling identity somehow making a difference in how my body responds to the tracking device. I have never completely accepted myself as a Changeling—at least not according to the Fae definition. The designation is real to me only by the Human definition—that I was a Fae child who was given away to a Human mother—but even then it was not a true exchange of children, and whatever wickedness there was relates solely to my mother’s decision not to keep me. What feels more likely, when I consider the contradiction between what I look like on the outside and how I feel on the inside, is that I am who I am: a half Fae who just happens to look all Human. In spite of what some of my recovered memories once said.
Yes, I have the use of inish, as do all Fae. But I remain Human in all other ways, and nothing has happened to change that from the time I discovered the truth about myself. So what Benith sees and how she interprets it remains a mystery. All I know is that I have discovered no way by which I might free myself of the tracking device.
We climb to the tree lanes that will take us to Ancrow’s home and proceed on a quick and silent journey. Once there, I walk up to the door and knock without hesitating. Better to get this over with. Better to hear the bad news and move ahead with my plan to leave Viridian. Some small preparations will be needed, then I will say goodbye to Ronden, Char, and Ramey.
And Harrow. Always Harrow.
Ancrow answers promptly. “I’ve been waiting for you. Come inside.”
Waiting? I exchange a confused glance with Harrow as we follow our mother into the living room and sit on the couch across from her. She has that determined look that could mean several things—one of which is the offer of yet another unwanted apology for failing me. I hope she does not intend this, because I have had all the meaningless apologies I need from her. But I stay calm, my expression blank. There is nothing to be gained by starting a fight before I hear what she has to say.
“Were the sisters able to help?” she asks.
“Auris carries a tracking device within her. The sisters do not know how to remove it. And preparations for the Human invasion are already well under way.” Harrow’s voice is clipped, irritated. “What help do you have to offer, Mother?”
“More than they have,” she replies. “Although perhaps not exactly what you have been searching for.”
We wait, giving her time and space to explain in her own words. I doubt we will like what we hear, but you never know. Odd solutions have come from odd places and people before.
“I have not thought of a way to remove the tracking device, either,” she begins. “I am sorry, Auris. I tried to think of something, but nothing suggested itself. So I think it would be better for us to assume it’s going to remain inside you and use that to our advantage. How long do we have before the invasion launches?”
“Perhaps a week,” I say.
“Then we will try to work with that. Listen carefully. We will not send you away because we need you here, as bait for our trap. We will choose where in Viridian we want Allensby to find you. Let him bring his soldiers, mechanized armor, weapons, and all the rest of what he would use to destroy us. Let him come right to our doorstep.”
“Mother, this is hardly what we were hoping for,” Harrow breaks in. “What is the reason for letting them find Auris and Viridian Deep?”
Now she smiles. “Because once we have them within our reach we will crush them.”
That night I dream once more.
I stand in the near-darkness of the tunnel entrance waiting for Ancrow. This is not where I am supposed to be, but it is where I am anyway. I can hear the sounds of the approaching Human army—the shouts and cries, the grinding of wheels and treads, the clank of armor and the sharp reports of weapons fire echoing down the passageway. I know what I am supposed to do, and I am doing it. But my inish is sluggish and weak. I have created the illusion as instructed, but it wavers and fades, as if it might fragment entirely at any moment. Nothing I can do helps. Everything feels like it is beginning to fall apart around me.
This is the plan we agreed upon, but so much seems to have gone wrong already.
I see Ancrow now, running toward me, dark hair flying behind her as the wind catches it, her lithe body and long legs stretched out to reach safety. For her age she is incredibly fit; as a result she is also very fast. She is pursued, yet looks untouchable. Weapons discharge in an effort to bring her down, but her inish shields her. I already have my protective shield in place, guarding against errant missiles and bullets, warding off the dangers the Humans throw at us. They will try to kill us; they are so trusting in their armor and their weapons that they think they can. But we will kill them first.
Ancrow reaches me and wheels back to face her pursuers. At our backs stands the whole of the Sylvan army, armed and ready. Compared with the number of Human soldiers who rush toward us, they seem too few. And they aren’t real anyway, so no help there. I have created the illusion of an army, but it will offer us no protection. It is only a ploy to fool our attackers—a momentary deterrent to those who are now closing in. I look at Ancrow, suddenly desperate for reassurance, but she gives no indication of seeing me. She simply stands where she is and faces her enemies, hard and steady and unyielding.
Not enough.
We’re going to fail.
I scream.
She laughs wildly and suddenly rushes the hordes approaching as if she will take all of them down single-handedly. The rush to reach her does not falter. If anything, it increases in speed—an inexorable force bearing down on two lone women. Seconds later Ancrow is run down and disappears beneath booted feet. I hear her screams, and then nothing more.
I am alone.
I call for Harrow. Save me!
But he does not hear my plea. He does not come to my aid, does not witness what happens as my shield fails and bullets rip into me, penetrating my body, tearing into my flesh, emptying me of life. I am aware of falling to the ground. I am aware that I am dying. All of my efforts—all our efforts—have failed.
Viridian Deep and the Sylvans are lost. And I am lost with them.
* * *
—
The dream goes on, but I lose the thread and let the visions slip away. I wake shaking and sweating, my sheets rumpled and damp, my mind whirling. I have just died, but only in a dream. I have just failed to save my people and my homeland, but not for real. I am adrift and powerless in these first few moments after waking, and I can hardly bear the feeling that sweeps over me. I survived the dream, but I know as well that the dream is warning me that I will not survive what’s coming. Tomorrow approaches, and our plan to save Viridian Deep will be tested and found wanting. It might be viable in theory, but—just as my dream presaged—it is going to prove unworkable. When that happens, the three of us—and all the Fae people—are going to pay the price.
But Ancrow says not. Ancrow is confident—more confident than I have ever seen her. She is determined to the point of irrationality. I like her show of strength and conviction, but I fear that her insistence is misplaced.
This is how she explained it to Harrow and me yesterday:
“We have the perfect opportunity to destroy Allensby and his army and stop any threat of invasion by Humans for years to come—if not forever. The invaders want to come into Viridian? Then we let them. They will expect to find our army waiting to repel them and will muster everything they have at their disposal against us, so we will let them think they can. All we need do is set a trap they will not recognize.”
“A trap?” I spoke the words doubtfully. “What sort of trap?”
“The kind that relies on Fae magic. The kind that Humans won’t expect or recognize. We will put them off their guard; we will make them think they have outsmarted us. For that, we need to employ a lure—in this case, a Fae army standing in their way, bravely determined to stop them and clearly inadequate to the task. But that army won’t have to stop them. Auris and I will do that alone.”
Except this really didn’t explain word one about what her plan was. I didn’t understand what she thought the two of us could do alone, and I told her so. She offered me one of her cold smiles in response and explained more fully what would happen. I wished I hadn’t asked.
“We will set our trap just off the shores of the Roughlin, at a point that lies midway between Spawn Ridge and the Strewlin. There is an open shoreline between the two that offers a perfect landing site for their transports. We will be waiting there—the three of us and the Fae army. The forest begins less than a mile inland, and the path to reach it at that location is broad, flat, and open. Our army will be waiting at the forest edge, clearly visible. The Humans will take notice of its small size and be unable to resist attacking.”
“But how do we…” I interrupted.
She held up her hand to silence me. “I haven’t finished. The Humans will attack, thinking to crush us easily. But when they are close enough, our efforts at resistance will seem to fall apart. The Fae defenders will retreat into the trees, apparently routed and running for their lives. At least, this is how it will appear to Allensby and the Humans. But they will have been deceived, for our army will be doing something else entirely. Unsuspecting, the Humans will continue their pursuit, and for a time it will appear they are gaining on us. But once they come after us into the forest—which you and I will have used our inish to manipulate, making it appear to be something other than it is—they will discover the truth. Bang! The trap will snap shut.”
I stared. “What trap?”
“A wormhole.”
Now both Harrow and I stared at her. “A wormhole?” Harrow finally asked. “What good does a wormhole do us?”
“It does a lot of good if, once they go in, they can’t get out again. I will make it collapse and crush them.”
“Can you do that?” I asked in surprise.
“No, she can’t,” Harrow said at once. “Inish can summon a wormhole, but it can’t trap anyone inside. And it won’t collapse, even supposing the entire Human army is inside and both ends close tight. Mother, don’t do this! Don’t risk our lives thinking you can do something you can’t.”
She shook her head slowly. “Oh, but I can, Harrow. I’ve already done it.”
“When? When would you ever do such a thing? And why would you even try?”
Her face turned ugly as her lips twisted, giving her a cruel look. “If you were forced to watch the man you loved dismembered in front of your eyes and were hauled off to Human prisons to be debased and violated, impregnated with a Human’s child, then found a way to escape but still had to make your way through Human country, how would you get home? If you were Fae—and you were I—you would find a wormhole. I did so by traveling out of the Human lands and into the wastelands. Once I was there, once I had summoned that wormhole and was finally in the clear and safely away, all I could think about was closing it back up so tightly a gnat couldn’t get through it again. That’s when I found out what my inish could do with wormholes.”
A long silence followed, the three of us looking at one another, the air charged with the vitriol and dark intensity of Ancrow’s words. She had settled on this solution, and she was clearly committed to it. To me it felt like a new form of suicide—a plan where so many things could go wrong, it was hard to count them. But all seem destined to result in the same unfortunate ending for both Ancrow and me.
It was Harrow who pointed out the most obvious flaw. “If you will be closing the wormhole, you will need Auris to create the illusions that will draw the Human army into it. But she has never used her inish to create an illusion before, and this will be a massive endeavor. How do we know she is even capable of it?”
Ancrow was dismissive. “I know well enough what she is capable of. And she has time enough to practice before we set out. Besides, I will only need her to hold shreds of the illusion together; we can have inish masters maintaining it up until the army flees. But in the end it must be only we three who risk our lives. My inish says it must be so.”
With Harrow supporting me, we depart the cottage and the sisters. We get as far as the end of the lane before I hear footsteps behind us. Benith comes running to catch up, so we stop to wait for her. There is an intensity of purpose about her that is arresting. But I do not think I can stand to hear anything more about my impossible situation.
“I forgot to mention something important, Auris,” she says even before she reaches us. She stumbles to a halt, breathing hard. “Once I told you I thought you might be a Changeling. In the Fae culture, a Changeling is one who can assume a different look or identity at will. And even though you have not shown these powers as yet, I still think it is possible. If so, it might mean your body will behave in ways that are different from what any of us suppose. It is not unreasonable to think it might even be able to inhibit the workings of this device implanted inside you. The device might not function as the Humans think because of who and what you are.”
I stare at her, thinking through the ramifications of what she is saying. “But I cannot tell this, can I? I cannot know what my Changeling blood will do. None of us can. I may still be a beacon that leads an army into Viridian.”
She nods. “I’m sorry. But I had to tell you once more that my instincts suggest there might still be hope. You are not yet bound to any one fate.”
I know she means well. I know she wants me to understand that there is still hope for me. But I see only one path forward, one way to be sure that I will not cause a disaster. Even so, I take her in my arms and hold her close, whispering in her ear. “Thank you. Thank you and your sisters for trying to help. I wish I knew more about myself than I do, but your words are important.”
We break our embrace, and I watch her walk slowly back to the cottage. I know she came after me to give me hope, but I feel no hope at all. I begin to sob.
Harrow turns me into him and I melt into his arms. I am devastated all over again. My Changeling self has not manifested if it is indeed present, and there is no help for me. All I can do is depart quickly before all of Viridian is lost. It is the conclusion I most feared, and it has come to pass. There is no compromising; there is no second best choice. My fate was decided when my father inserted the tracking device and made it impossible to remove it from my body.
Like my mother, I feel violated. Not sexually, but very personally nevertheless. That he could have done such a thing has made it clear I can never consider him my father—not even if his blood and mine are the same. I cannot bear to think of us as being anything alike. His choice to use me so callously is unforgivable. He will never be my father; I will never accord him that right. Not even if he was, for some reason, to come to think of me as his daughter and not just a means to an end. He will always be Dr. Allensby, and I will always hate him.
“We are not done yet,” Harrow says quietly.
I pull back in shock. “What are you talking about? I told you I would leave if the sisters could not find a way to remove or disable the tracker and if I would lead the invasion here. And you promised you wouldn’t try to stop me.”
“There is still Ancrow. She might have found a way to help. We need to go to her before we give up. She has solved other problems arising from Human attempts to conquer Viridian Deep. She might be able to solve this one.”
I find this to be wishful thinking, but I respect and love him enough that I do not spurn his advice. When I needed help most—back when I had escaped the Goblin prisons and was facing a slow wastelands death from lack of water or recapture by pursuing Goblins—he was there to save me. Plus, there was that instinctive sense I had on the submersible, that Ancrow somehow held the answer.
“Let’s go to her right now then,” I tell him. “There is nothing to be gained by putting this off.”
We start to walk to Ancrow’s home, but as we near the city proper, I pull him aside and hold him firmly at arm’s length, not daring to risk drawing him closer. “Listen to me,” I say. “If Ancrow has no answer, I must leave, and I want you to promise to let me go. Don’t beg me to change my mind or offer to come with me. I will have to go back into the Human world, and that is no place for you. Please promise you will honor this request, no matter how we feel about each other. I am not strong enough to follow through if you insist on stopping me. So promise me you will let me go.”
He studies me carefully, his lean features intense, his body held still in my grip. “I promise, Auris.”
I release him and we walk on. We do not speak further, lost in thought, already contemplating what we will find when we come face-to-face with Ancrow once more. I am dreading what I know I will hear. I am already preparing myself so that I will not break down. I do not want her to see me cry. I do not want to appear weak in front of her.
As we walk, I look around at everything we pass, taking in as much as I can of this city, this forested world, and the people—my people—who live here. So many wonderful moments have I enjoyed here; so many are still waiting to be experienced. Once I had nothing—no family, no home, no past, and no future. All this I have found in Viridian. All that matters in this life is here. I can take a little comfort from this in the time I have left. I can celebrate what I have been given, even if I am not going to be able to hold on to anything more than memories.
Harrow is going to be hardest of all to leave. I love him, and I always thought we would build a life together. We worked so hard to make that happen—even when our efforts were directed not to that end but to other goals entirely. Making me well after he saved me. Teaching me skills that would keep me alive and safe. Coming to each other’s rescue. Making it possible for me to have a new family. We have shared so much in these past months, and it is all coming to an end.
We reach the city center and climb toward the upper levels, to our destination. I harden myself against false expectations and remind myself that nothing is forever and nothing is given without cost. Whatever is asked—or demanded—of me, I will give willingly if the results will help Viridian Deep and the Fae.
My thoughts drift. I think again of Benith’s comments on the possibility of my Changeling identity somehow making a difference in how my body responds to the tracking device. I have never completely accepted myself as a Changeling—at least not according to the Fae definition. The designation is real to me only by the Human definition—that I was a Fae child who was given away to a Human mother—but even then it was not a true exchange of children, and whatever wickedness there was relates solely to my mother’s decision not to keep me. What feels more likely, when I consider the contradiction between what I look like on the outside and how I feel on the inside, is that I am who I am: a half Fae who just happens to look all Human. In spite of what some of my recovered memories once said.
Yes, I have the use of inish, as do all Fae. But I remain Human in all other ways, and nothing has happened to change that from the time I discovered the truth about myself. So what Benith sees and how she interprets it remains a mystery. All I know is that I have discovered no way by which I might free myself of the tracking device.
We climb to the tree lanes that will take us to Ancrow’s home and proceed on a quick and silent journey. Once there, I walk up to the door and knock without hesitating. Better to get this over with. Better to hear the bad news and move ahead with my plan to leave Viridian. Some small preparations will be needed, then I will say goodbye to Ronden, Char, and Ramey.
And Harrow. Always Harrow.
Ancrow answers promptly. “I’ve been waiting for you. Come inside.”
Waiting? I exchange a confused glance with Harrow as we follow our mother into the living room and sit on the couch across from her. She has that determined look that could mean several things—one of which is the offer of yet another unwanted apology for failing me. I hope she does not intend this, because I have had all the meaningless apologies I need from her. But I stay calm, my expression blank. There is nothing to be gained by starting a fight before I hear what she has to say.
“Were the sisters able to help?” she asks.
“Auris carries a tracking device within her. The sisters do not know how to remove it. And preparations for the Human invasion are already well under way.” Harrow’s voice is clipped, irritated. “What help do you have to offer, Mother?”
“More than they have,” she replies. “Although perhaps not exactly what you have been searching for.”
We wait, giving her time and space to explain in her own words. I doubt we will like what we hear, but you never know. Odd solutions have come from odd places and people before.
“I have not thought of a way to remove the tracking device, either,” she begins. “I am sorry, Auris. I tried to think of something, but nothing suggested itself. So I think it would be better for us to assume it’s going to remain inside you and use that to our advantage. How long do we have before the invasion launches?”
“Perhaps a week,” I say.
“Then we will try to work with that. Listen carefully. We will not send you away because we need you here, as bait for our trap. We will choose where in Viridian we want Allensby to find you. Let him bring his soldiers, mechanized armor, weapons, and all the rest of what he would use to destroy us. Let him come right to our doorstep.”
“Mother, this is hardly what we were hoping for,” Harrow breaks in. “What is the reason for letting them find Auris and Viridian Deep?”
Now she smiles. “Because once we have them within our reach we will crush them.”
That night I dream once more.
I stand in the near-darkness of the tunnel entrance waiting for Ancrow. This is not where I am supposed to be, but it is where I am anyway. I can hear the sounds of the approaching Human army—the shouts and cries, the grinding of wheels and treads, the clank of armor and the sharp reports of weapons fire echoing down the passageway. I know what I am supposed to do, and I am doing it. But my inish is sluggish and weak. I have created the illusion as instructed, but it wavers and fades, as if it might fragment entirely at any moment. Nothing I can do helps. Everything feels like it is beginning to fall apart around me.
This is the plan we agreed upon, but so much seems to have gone wrong already.
I see Ancrow now, running toward me, dark hair flying behind her as the wind catches it, her lithe body and long legs stretched out to reach safety. For her age she is incredibly fit; as a result she is also very fast. She is pursued, yet looks untouchable. Weapons discharge in an effort to bring her down, but her inish shields her. I already have my protective shield in place, guarding against errant missiles and bullets, warding off the dangers the Humans throw at us. They will try to kill us; they are so trusting in their armor and their weapons that they think they can. But we will kill them first.
Ancrow reaches me and wheels back to face her pursuers. At our backs stands the whole of the Sylvan army, armed and ready. Compared with the number of Human soldiers who rush toward us, they seem too few. And they aren’t real anyway, so no help there. I have created the illusion of an army, but it will offer us no protection. It is only a ploy to fool our attackers—a momentary deterrent to those who are now closing in. I look at Ancrow, suddenly desperate for reassurance, but she gives no indication of seeing me. She simply stands where she is and faces her enemies, hard and steady and unyielding.
Not enough.
We’re going to fail.
I scream.
She laughs wildly and suddenly rushes the hordes approaching as if she will take all of them down single-handedly. The rush to reach her does not falter. If anything, it increases in speed—an inexorable force bearing down on two lone women. Seconds later Ancrow is run down and disappears beneath booted feet. I hear her screams, and then nothing more.
I am alone.
I call for Harrow. Save me!
But he does not hear my plea. He does not come to my aid, does not witness what happens as my shield fails and bullets rip into me, penetrating my body, tearing into my flesh, emptying me of life. I am aware of falling to the ground. I am aware that I am dying. All of my efforts—all our efforts—have failed.
Viridian Deep and the Sylvans are lost. And I am lost with them.
* * *
—
The dream goes on, but I lose the thread and let the visions slip away. I wake shaking and sweating, my sheets rumpled and damp, my mind whirling. I have just died, but only in a dream. I have just failed to save my people and my homeland, but not for real. I am adrift and powerless in these first few moments after waking, and I can hardly bear the feeling that sweeps over me. I survived the dream, but I know as well that the dream is warning me that I will not survive what’s coming. Tomorrow approaches, and our plan to save Viridian Deep will be tested and found wanting. It might be viable in theory, but—just as my dream presaged—it is going to prove unworkable. When that happens, the three of us—and all the Fae people—are going to pay the price.
But Ancrow says not. Ancrow is confident—more confident than I have ever seen her. She is determined to the point of irrationality. I like her show of strength and conviction, but I fear that her insistence is misplaced.
This is how she explained it to Harrow and me yesterday:
“We have the perfect opportunity to destroy Allensby and his army and stop any threat of invasion by Humans for years to come—if not forever. The invaders want to come into Viridian? Then we let them. They will expect to find our army waiting to repel them and will muster everything they have at their disposal against us, so we will let them think they can. All we need do is set a trap they will not recognize.”
“A trap?” I spoke the words doubtfully. “What sort of trap?”
“The kind that relies on Fae magic. The kind that Humans won’t expect or recognize. We will put them off their guard; we will make them think they have outsmarted us. For that, we need to employ a lure—in this case, a Fae army standing in their way, bravely determined to stop them and clearly inadequate to the task. But that army won’t have to stop them. Auris and I will do that alone.”
Except this really didn’t explain word one about what her plan was. I didn’t understand what she thought the two of us could do alone, and I told her so. She offered me one of her cold smiles in response and explained more fully what would happen. I wished I hadn’t asked.
“We will set our trap just off the shores of the Roughlin, at a point that lies midway between Spawn Ridge and the Strewlin. There is an open shoreline between the two that offers a perfect landing site for their transports. We will be waiting there—the three of us and the Fae army. The forest begins less than a mile inland, and the path to reach it at that location is broad, flat, and open. Our army will be waiting at the forest edge, clearly visible. The Humans will take notice of its small size and be unable to resist attacking.”
“But how do we…” I interrupted.
She held up her hand to silence me. “I haven’t finished. The Humans will attack, thinking to crush us easily. But when they are close enough, our efforts at resistance will seem to fall apart. The Fae defenders will retreat into the trees, apparently routed and running for their lives. At least, this is how it will appear to Allensby and the Humans. But they will have been deceived, for our army will be doing something else entirely. Unsuspecting, the Humans will continue their pursuit, and for a time it will appear they are gaining on us. But once they come after us into the forest—which you and I will have used our inish to manipulate, making it appear to be something other than it is—they will discover the truth. Bang! The trap will snap shut.”
I stared. “What trap?”
“A wormhole.”
Now both Harrow and I stared at her. “A wormhole?” Harrow finally asked. “What good does a wormhole do us?”
“It does a lot of good if, once they go in, they can’t get out again. I will make it collapse and crush them.”
“Can you do that?” I asked in surprise.
“No, she can’t,” Harrow said at once. “Inish can summon a wormhole, but it can’t trap anyone inside. And it won’t collapse, even supposing the entire Human army is inside and both ends close tight. Mother, don’t do this! Don’t risk our lives thinking you can do something you can’t.”
She shook her head slowly. “Oh, but I can, Harrow. I’ve already done it.”
“When? When would you ever do such a thing? And why would you even try?”
Her face turned ugly as her lips twisted, giving her a cruel look. “If you were forced to watch the man you loved dismembered in front of your eyes and were hauled off to Human prisons to be debased and violated, impregnated with a Human’s child, then found a way to escape but still had to make your way through Human country, how would you get home? If you were Fae—and you were I—you would find a wormhole. I did so by traveling out of the Human lands and into the wastelands. Once I was there, once I had summoned that wormhole and was finally in the clear and safely away, all I could think about was closing it back up so tightly a gnat couldn’t get through it again. That’s when I found out what my inish could do with wormholes.”
A long silence followed, the three of us looking at one another, the air charged with the vitriol and dark intensity of Ancrow’s words. She had settled on this solution, and she was clearly committed to it. To me it felt like a new form of suicide—a plan where so many things could go wrong, it was hard to count them. But all seem destined to result in the same unfortunate ending for both Ancrow and me.
It was Harrow who pointed out the most obvious flaw. “If you will be closing the wormhole, you will need Auris to create the illusions that will draw the Human army into it. But she has never used her inish to create an illusion before, and this will be a massive endeavor. How do we know she is even capable of it?”
Ancrow was dismissive. “I know well enough what she is capable of. And she has time enough to practice before we set out. Besides, I will only need her to hold shreds of the illusion together; we can have inish masters maintaining it up until the army flees. But in the end it must be only we three who risk our lives. My inish says it must be so.”
