Susan Krinard - Lord of the Beasts

Tod kicked his feet over the edge of the loft, hiding a scowl behind the fall of his hair. “Why must my lord go with her?”

“I’ve taken responsibility for Ivy. I must make sure this is the right course for her future.” He patted Tod’s shoulder. “You’re welcome to accompany me, of course. You’ve never been to the south of England; there are more humans there than here in the north, but Gloucestershire is filled with hills and woods where you can run in freedom.”

“The Fane left those lands long ago.”

“That may be true. But I wouldn’t be surprised to find that a little Fane magic still lingers, even so.”

Tod sighed, knowing he could not win this battle. He had thought himself rid of the girl, and still she’d returned; now there was a good chance that she would be out of Donal’s life forever. Tolerating her presence for a few more weeks was a small enough price to pay.

“When we come back,” he said, tossing hair out of his eyes, “it will be as it was before. My lord and Tod, together.”

Donal looked away, and his voice was strange when he spoke. “Only in Tir-na-Nog does everything stay the same,” he said. “In this world, change is inevitable.”

“Tod never changes,” Tod said, touching Donal’s hand. “Tod will always be here.”

Donal smiled, but Tod felt his grief. It was these females who brought him such pain. But soon they would be gone.

“Tod will go with my lord,” he said firmly. “And it will not be long before my lord has peace again.”

Donal only bowed his head and gave no answer.

“SHE IS FOUND, MY LADY!”

“She is found!”

“Found!”

The incessant chatter of the sprites clanged like raucous bells in Béfind’s ears, but she did not chastise her servants. She smiled indulgently as they darted about her head, crying out their victory until even they grew weary and settled to the glistening floor at her feet.

It was one of her hobs who gave the report. He related how they had searched high and low, seeking over the mortals’ island until they had sensed Fleming’s presence in a place far from the humans’ cities. There they had watched and listened, learning much that could amaze even one who had lived three thousand years.

Donal Fleming . It would have been a stroke of astonishing coincidence had the players in this drama been human. Fleming, son of the exiled Forest Lord, had found the girl living in squalor in the mortal’s great Iron City and taken her to live with him on his little farm in the north. It was clear to Béfind’s servants that Fleming had made himself her guardian and accepted his new responsibility with a mortal’s tedious gravity. It was equally clear that he didn’t know what she was.

Béfind called for a cup of mead and idly tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. Everyone in Tir-na-Nog knew Hern’s story: how he, one of the last of the High Fane to linger on earth, had fallen in love with a human woman and surrendered his Fane powers in exchange for a mortal life as Cornelius Fleming, Earl of Bradwell. Donal was the bastard offspring of his first, illicit union with his beloved, Eden Fleming, six years before he had returned to the mortal realm to woo and win her as his wife.

It was well-known that Donal, whom Queen Titania had sought to claim for Tir-na-Nog, had chosen a dull existence of isolation on earth rather than enjoy a life of ease and eternal pleasure in the Land of the Young. But he kept one companion to remind him of his Fane heritage … a hob called Tod, who had once been his father’s servant.

Béfind accepted the glass of mead from the hands of a sprite and sipped the honeyed beverage thoughtfully. It should have been a simple matter to reclaim the girl Ivy, but there were a few small complications. Perhaps she could dispose of one of them here and now.

Idath kept her waiting, as she had known he would. He strolled into her palace with a lazy air of indifference, his eyes hooded as he took in her entourage of hobs and sprites, each and every one still drenched in the smell of the mortal realm.

“Béfind,” he said, inclining his head. “To what do I owe the honor of this summons?”

She smiled and offered him a golden chalice of mead, which he refused. “Why must we quarrel, my friend?” she purred. “It has been too long since we have lain in each other’s arms. Is it so strange that I would ask you to attend me?”

Idath returned her smile with equal warmth. “What do you want, Béfind?”

“I have found the girl.”

“Oh?” He yawned behind his hand. “What girl is that?”

She bared her teeth. “I know the truth, Idath. You took my property. You told me the babe was dead and delivered it to your mortal paramour to raise as her own.”

“Ah, yes. I begin to remember.”

“How could you have forgotten? You believed you could wound and confound me with your lies.”

“As you believed you could prove your indifference to me by casting me aside and remaining with your mortal lover for a full year.”

Béfind laughed. “Ah. You finally admit your motive—simple jealousy. How petty. How very human .”

Idath’s expression didn’t change. “You have always found it amusing to mock the blood of my halfling mother,” he said, “and yet I learned much from her that you will never understand.”

“Such as love?” she sneered.

“Once, perhaps. There was a time when I cared enough to punish you for making sport of my devotion and cleaving to your mortal for no reason but to show how little you felt for me, even after a hundred years.” He gazed out at the lawn. “It was all a game to you, Béfind. I only decided to play by your rules.”

“By handing my child over to one who would corrupt her as your mother did you.”

“If I had believed any real harm would come to the girl, I would have left her with you. But you did not deserve the acclaim you would receive by bringing a healthy child to Tir-na-Nog.”

Béfind burned with fury. “Perhaps you did not know that the child was found living alone in the worst part of the Iron City, hunting her food in the gutters like a beast .”

Idath leaned against the nearest column and smoothed the scarlet silk of his tunic. “I am grieved to hear it.”

“Unfortunate indeed that your lover is dead.”

He couldn’t quite hide the flash of sorrow in his eyes. “Mortals die. It is their nature.”

“But the girl lives. None other than the son of Hern has discovered her.”

“Hern’s son?” Idath cocked his head. “What does he want with her?”

“His mother’s blood taints him with what mortals call ‘compassion,’” she said. “He pitied her. And now he intends that she shall have a life among humans.”

“She has already lived among humans.”

“And suffered because of your spite,” Béfind said. “That is over. I will bring her back to Tir-na-Nog.”

“I wonder how you will manage that, a mhuirnín? ”

She stepped away from her chair and came to stand before him. “You cannot stop me.”

“It is not I who will stop you.” He glanced about at Béfind’s servants. “Did they not tell you of the amulet?”

Béfind bristled. “Idath, if you do not—”

He raised a languid hand. “I gave it to her when she was yet with Estelle,” he said. “As long as she wears it, none who is Fane may touch the girl or carry her through a Gate to Tir-na-Nog.”

“What?”

“I knew you would find her eventually, a chuisle .”

Béfind was momentarily speechless. “You … you would go so far—”

His eyes grew cold. “Perhaps I judged her better off away from you.”

Béfind turned away and composed herself. She faced him again with a smile. “An amusing trick, Idath. But surely the game has gone on long enough.” She stroked his sleeve. “Remove the enchantment, and I shall give you whatever you desire.”