Paul Kidd - Descent into the Depths of the Earth

Clan Sable had an eye for spectacular locations, and in acourt jaded by centuries of tinsel and frippery, the talent had a certain dark appeal. At the very least, their choices would spark off a frenzy of one-upmanship as the other faerie clans sought to offer wilder, madder thrills.

Acheron had been a choice of genius. On this plane of existence, the entire universe seemed to be trying to smash itself to pieces. A vast infinity of air suspended countless turning cubes of iron. The sepia-tinted atmosphere sizzled with electricity as lightning arched insane shapes between the cubes, leaving brilliant: violet trails scorched on the eye. The cubes were tiny worlds, and the worlds tumbled like dice. Here and there the cubes collided, the noise ringing through space like titanic bells. Fragments of iron and helpless little bodies went tumbling free into space while far away, wars and violence went ever on. The place stank of lightning strike, of the hammer-and-forge reek of the smashing cubes, and the rusty stench of blood.

The Seelie Court was unconcerned. They were the faerie, the deadly sword point of a secret world. Although Queen Titania and the sylvan powers held state in distant planes, they used the faerie as their hands, their eyes, and their ears. Sinking deeper and deeper into their introverted world, the sylvan powers now scarcely knew fantasy from reality and left the power of the Seelie Court in the hands of the clans.

Faerie control over the sylvan powers was absolute, and with power came intrigue-plots and plans, schemes and dreams. Wrapped in gloriousisolation, the Seelie Court posed and schemed in a frenzy of activity that filled the centuries with the comforting illusion of activity.

Sitting languidly upon outcrops of jagged iron and rust, today’s gathering had eyes only for the conflict being fought at the bottom of acrater just below them. Two combatants, both male faeries, fought and posed in the battlefield. Small, lithe, and winged like dragonflies, the creatures battled viciously with sword and magic. The duelists were slim and elegant, with clothing gleaned from a dozen exotic planes. Holding absurdly thin little swords, they stood and flung spell after spell at one another in a display full of flash and glory but rather empty of blood. Spellfire lit and stained imperfections in the metal of the crater, making it glow brilliant green, lavender, and orange. Here and there a faerie gave an appreciative patter of applause, while mortal servants poured out tinctures of faerie wine.

Today’s duel served as a welcome little diversion. Ushan,Lord of Clan Sable, sat beneath a fan waved by one of his servants. It amused him these days to be attended by female orcs, their bestial forms draped in courtly finery. A man much in love with his own image, Ushan raised his glass to another faerie, who wandered over, keeping his eyes upon the fight.

Ushan’s comrade drew himself up on a stool that had beencovered with a leucrotta skin. He accepted wine from a serving girl and said, “My Lord Ushan.”

“My Lord Faen.” Silver haired, Ushan had today dressed inrobes of animated flame. “I trust Acheron suits you well?”

“Well enough, well enough.” Lord Faen affected spectacles anda pointed beard, considering himself to be the greatest scholar of the Seelie Court. He gave a quiet flutter of his wings. “Can you recall the reason for thisduel?”

“The usual-insults, women…” Lord Ushan seemed moreinterested in watching the slow tumble of a distant iron cube than following the duel. “Who remembers?”

“The participants, perhaps?” Carefully watching the nearestduelist, Faen slowly stroked at his antennae. “Your man Tarquil has quite atouch. Do you have hopes for him?”

Watching the boy, Ushan appreciatively sipped from his glass. “His technique has improved. I believe him to be the best duelist in the lowercourt.”

“He is your sisters son?” Lord Faen steepled his fingers,carefully watching the two faeries below as they stabbed spell and counter spell at one another. “He likes killing too much.”

“Not a bad thing in a noble. We see too many milksops in thecurrent generation, too little thirst for blood.”

Ushan relaxed. All about him spread the Seelie Court, the nobility of faerie. Small, winged figures-some remaining elegantly in form andothers changing shape as they pleased-lay scattered languidly about. Theinhabitants of Acheron had wisely fled. Few creatures ever mistook a faerie for one of the lesser forest folk and escaped to tell the tale.

In the crater, spell followed spell. The two battling faeries flew and circled-invisible one moment, then outlined by detection spells in thenext. Etiquette demanded non-lethal spells, yet Ushan’s nephew stabbed thesespells home with vicious intensity. He slammed his opponent back against the ground, sending the faerie skidding along hot rusted metal.

Lord Faen narrowed his eyes as he watched the combatants. “Splendid isolation is an illusion. We have wasted our intellects on selfaggrandizement.”

“A superior being is allowed aggrandizement.” Ushan shot adark glance toward Lord Faen. “Our intelligence makes us strong.”

“The mark of intelligence is the ability to adapt to unseenchanges.”

“The mark of intelligence is to prevent the occurrence of anyunseen changes.” Ushan’s lavender eyes sparked. “Events are merely sculptures ofaction made in the medium of time. We can control and shape events to meet our own needs. We are not mere butterflies to be blown along in the winds of any random storm.”

Matching cold anger with disdain, Lord Faen smoothed his beard. “We have already produced one dark goddess from our ranks. She toobelieved that events could be controlled.”

“All it won her was an eternal prison.” Ushan made a sharpmotion with his hand. The Faerie Queen of Wind and Woe was not a topic for open discussion. “Clan Nightshade saw to it, and good riddance to her… andthem.”

A heavy sigh escaped Lord Faen as he sat back in his seat. He took more wine and swirled the amber liquid slowly in its glass as he said, “Wemust speak of Clan Nightshade.”

Ushan slowly turned a frosty gaze upon the other faerie. “They played for power, and they lost. The lesson has kept the lesser houses inline.” Once the greatest of faerie houses, Clan Nightshade had been exiled forcenturies. “Clan Nightshade is no more.”

Faen speared Ushan with an acidic, mocking gaze. “ClanNightshade is alive. Your Clan Sable is aware of it. We are all aware of it. Only a fool would remain ignorant of a potential ally-or a potential enemy.”

“They are no longer of the Court.” Lean and elegant, LordUshan held out his glass to his towering serving girls. “They have adapted toother worlds. Why should we care for what Nightshade does?”

“Clan Nightshade now has a great deal of experience in theouter worlds-in the material plane, in particular. Experience and knowledge are weapons, Ushan. Without weapons, the universe may overtake us, intelligence or no.” Lord Faen set his glass aside. “Clan Nightshade clipped the wings of theQueen of Wind and Woe. It is a skill we may soon need again.”

“Faen! We have no need to go chasing demons in the outsideworld!”

Faen tapped his index fingers carefully together and replied, “Yes. We are all too skilled at breeding them from within.” The faerie tuggedstraight his long goatee. “If we do not curb the habit, it will be the death ofus.”