C. E. Murphy - Wayfinder

Dafydd looked at the tennies she’d traded her soft Unseelie boots out for, then crooked a wry smile at her. “Far enough that you’ll be glad of those.”

“Can we get there before Hafgan does?”

“I may be able to help.” Aerin lifted her head. “The magic the horses use is a gift to them from the Barrow-lands, but it’s not far removed from my earth magics. With time—which we’ll have a-plenty, walking from here to there—I should be able to convince the land that we take seven steps for our every one.”

“Aerin, that will leave you exhausted. You’ve already used more magics today than anyone normally would in years. Decades,” Dafydd amended.

Aerin’s expression turned so sour it bordered on funny. The look she gave Dafydd said far more than words could, and he ducked his head in apology. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to state the obvious, but I fear for you. You could find yourself—”

“I know. What choice do we have?”

“Find herself what?” Lara straightened, concern washing through her. “Not mortal?”

“Just useless for a very long time,” Aerin growled. “Useless, most particularly, in battle. My prowess is learned, but the strength that lets me fight inexhaustibly is the land’s. Without it, I’m no more than any other Seelie warrior, and if things go badly, we will need far more than ordinary fighters.”

“I do not believe,” Lara said with unusual clarity, “that anything could make you less than extraordinary on the battlefield. I’ve watched a lot of you fight now, Aerin. Ioan’s better than you are. I haven’t seen anyone else who even holds a candle to you.”

Surprise, then chagrined pleasure slid over Aerin’s face and she looked away. Lara wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion at Dafydd, and was only further confused at his quick smile. He leaned forward to kiss her and murmured, “You couldn’t have said anything better,” against her mouth, then lifted his voice to say, “Then we’ll rely on you, Aerin. Thank you.”

Aerin grunted, and in a little while they gathered themselves, preparing to begin their journey. Lara took up the staff again, about to slid it crosswise over her back when a thought struck her. It responded to emotion and need, and emitted emotions and desires of its own. She said, “Thank you,” aloud, if quietly, and after a few long seconds felt a sullen sort of pleasure from the weapon. Grinning, she tucked it away and fell in with the others as they struck out toward the distant Seelie citadel.

The Unseelie joined them, not so much willingly as with the air of people who had no other option. Ioan walked among them as they set out, offering what reassurances he could. They were scant, but Lara admired that he tried. Hafgan’s return had reminded them, sharply, that the man they’d called king for centuries was no more than heir to the throne. There seemed little resentment among them for the deception: as Ioan had suggested, they appeared more content with continuity than strict truth. Their distress now was for the betrayal laid upon them by the king who had returned; for the man who commanded fire, and who had burned their home to molten rock. A few came forward to walk with Lara, to verify she was a truthseeker, and that it was through her magic and Ioan’s that anyone had survived immolation in the fire. When those few fell back, satisfied, Lara thought Ioan had earned himself a small personal guard, men and women whose loyalty was to Ioan himself, not to the Unseelie crown. It could mean nothing or everything in the reshaping of Annwn that they intended, but either way, she was glad of it.

It had been midday when they abandoned the citadel, but night came on more quickly than Lara expected. There was no chill in the air to suggest short winter days, and not until the moon’s light hopped unexpectedly high in the sky did she jog forward to catch up with Aerin. “Is this you?”

“I’m already doing all I can. I had hoped I could move us as quickly as the horses would go, but two legs aren’t as quick as four, even magicked. The best I can manage is three steps for every one.” Aerin looked tired and alien, the long contours of her skull more easily visible with sweat matting short hair against it. “The horses would have us there by morning. The best I can do is three days, perhaps.”

“The best you can do,” Lara echoed in astonishment. “I’ve read people can walk twenty or thirty miles in a day. You’re moving us sixty or ninety? How far do we have to go, Aerin? How long do you have to keep this up?”

“Unassisted, it would take a sennight or more to walk this distance.” Aerin cast a glance back at the Unseelie, among whom were children. “Probably more.”

The corner of Lara’s mouth turned up. “Thanks for looking at them, and not at me.”

Aerin quirked an acknowledging eyebrow, then exhaled noisily. “This requires concentration, Truthseeker.”

“Right. Just don’t … burn yourself out, if that’s what can happen. Be careful, Aerin.”

“The time for care is long past.” Aerin quickened her pace by a step or two and Lara took the hint, falling back again. Night grew deeper in quick lurches, until she was certain midnight had come and gone. Only then did Aerin stop abruptly, and the travelers slept where they fell, only to rise and walk again not long after sunrise.

Lara awakened to muscles and feet so sore that every step was a challenge. No one else complained, and she wondered if mortal weight connected with the land harder, or if she was simply outrageously unconditioned compared to everyone else. They all shared a certain drudgery of intent, but she caught no one else wincing with each footfall. That evening Dafydd silently stripped her shoes from her feet and massaged the tender flesh.

The second day was worse, grime and hunger building up. Ioan, Dafydd, and a few of the others broke away to hunt. There were always streams for water, but Lara could hardly feel her body, numbed from repeated impacts against the earth. Even Kelly’s relentless good nature and enjoyment of adventure vacations would be hard-pressed to find much fun in the trek. Lara was torn between worry about when and where she and Dickon had landed back on Earth, and weary envy that they probably had access to showers.

Aerin stopped them earlier that evening, not long after sunset. She was slender to begin with, as all the Seelie were, but she looked as though she’d been eaten from the inside out, her muscles thin and ropey and her eyes sunken with fatigue. “We should arrive by midday,” she told Dafydd. “If we hunt and eat well tonight, and sleep well, we may be in some condition to face whatever awaits us. Ioan might scry to see what lies ahead.”

“It could alert Merrick to our presence.” Ioan had recovered from his injuries as they walked, though like everyone else his shoulders slumped with weariness. “We might be better unannounced. The surprise would be as much theirs as ours.”

“Can you cast a glamour to get us inside unseen?” Lara asked Dafydd. A darker thought spun out of that: if he could get them inside the citadel unseen, there was no reason they couldn’t assassinate Merrick under that same cloak of invisibility. She met Dafydd’s eyes, and saw the same idea flash through his mind before he shook his head.

“Glamours are much more successful against mortals. The constant use of power gains notice among our own kind. Call it what you will, paranoia or curiosity, but there’s always someone looking for it, and a glamour large enough to hide even a handful of us would be observed long before we found Merrick.”

“Then isn’t what Aerin’s doing going to draw attention, too? She must be using huge amounts of power.”

“But the horses use a version of this magic all the time,” Aerin reminded Lara. “It’s a constant draw, so typical as to go unnoticed. Far more likely that the destruction of the Unseelie citadel has been noticed than my call on the earth’s magic.”