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Aug. 3rd, 2009 08:20 pmThese past days with the Dark Lady have not been pleasant. Time has passed, faded by. Sometimes it's moved quickly and other times it's inched by so agonizingly slowly he thought he'd never make it. Either his cousin will do a deal for him or not, but he thinks not. And then the Lady will have him killed and his story will be over. He tends to think that's exactly what's going to happen and he's thought it since he learned her terms, so he's suprised when he's moved.
With the hood over his face he can't tell where they are; part of the Lady's plan is to keep him disoriented. But the magic binding his hands behind his back is strong and there's so little he can do but try to maintain his balance. Wherever they are, two of the disgusting and icy creatures bring him forward and force him to his knees once more. Something is about to happen. When the Queen of the Unseelie Court pulls the hood off his face, he doesn't even do her the honor of acknowledging her with a glance. The dried blood is still caked on his face but he won't do anything about that, either. Let her see him this way. For all he knows, she's going to kill him now. She twines her fingers in his hair and yanks back sharply, and that's when he sees them: Eddi and Phouka, and realizes they're in the Conservatory. Hope rises in his chest. Is his cousin really going to cede the battle just for him?
He wouldn't do it. To keep the surprise off his face, he closes his eyes again.
"Do you know, I shall miss you."
He could spit at her. "I'm afraid that I can't say the same about you." He pulls his hair out of her grip, fierce determination all over his face.
And then it's Eddi's turn: "Now!"
In his long life, there's one thing he's noticed over and over again: in a battle -- any battle -- things happen more quickly than any single person can account for them. A handful of berries, Rowan, he thinks, sprays from Eddi's hand; the queen stumbles. And that's all it takes; it's her magic that's bound him and when it falters, he's finally able to free himself. And once his hands are free, he can use his own brand of fighting power; snapping the cord around his arms, he lets his hand blaze with intense white light. When he takes aim it's not at the queen herself but at the lamp over the pond. It falls with a splash and a buzz of electricity, sending sparks everywhere, and now's his opportunity: he leaps down off the terrace to join his friends.
His friends, who've come to rescue him in a stupidly brave way but he can admonish them later. Through who knows what magic being worked on either side -- the only thing he has time to recognize is St. John's Wort -- the three of them rush toward the double doors. One of the queen's consorts, a gray thing like those who escorted him in here, drops from the ceiling at them. He hits it with a blast of lightning and the creature explodes, raining down on them. There's nothing left to him but ashes.
"No more of that for a while." He rubs his palm, his wrists, looks frantically around the room. "Hope you've got reinforcements."
"Not until we get outside." The phouka's doing an admirable job dispatching a red cap into the pond where it's sucked under by something that doesn't care what it eats as long as its fed. Oh, he's no fan of the Unseelie Court.
They're on the terrace, and then they're in the palm house, and the fight rages on, and he doesn't have the time to admire its variety or difficulty. All he knows is he's moving on his own, and he has to protect Eddi and Phouka, and he's out of weaponry without the time to recharge, and...
There's Hedge with a tire iron.
There's Carla with a pair of drum sticks.
There's Phouka with... sunglasses for all? No time to question anything; he puts them on and doesn't understand until they're out of the building, into the sudden white glare of carbon arc lights mounted on top of Carla's station wagon. That's brilliant; the dark creatures can't face it.
"Move your ass!" It's Dan in the car; next thing he knows Phouka's shoving him onto the back of Eddi's motorcycle with an I'm faster than he is to quell Eddi's objection. She swears but rides like the wind to the Seelie Court's stronghold: down the hill, across the grass. He leaps off, swats her appreciatively across the shoulders. "Go get him! Hurry!"
As soon as she moves off, he allows himself a moment, but only one. Then he joins his fellow riders: there's a lance with his name on it, even if the horse he used to ride is gone.
Standing tall and proud, he refuses to wear the armor of the horsemen. He wears the blood on his white t-shirt as a badge of honor and of survival, but he wears it also in defiance of his cousin. This isn't the time to make a stand or a political statement, but honestly. He's her cousin. Her own blood. And there aren't so many of them any more, and now that he's free again he's angry. But he takes his lance in his hand and stands tall with the rest of the Sidhe horsemen. Eddi and the rest of the band went so far as to free him. The least he can do is repay the favor by fighting his heart out. The Seelie Court will win Como Park.
"Good." The whole band is present and accounted for.
Phouka sighs. "Good. I am saved from certain death, and all he says is 'Good.'"
It's too hard not to smile at that, so he doesn't try to keep it off his face. "That, and 'Thank you.'" The words sound so strange on his own lips; he's avoided saying them for centuries. They carry too much weight, enfold too much debt. He means them, though. "The bitch-queen said that Hedge had spied for her." He's more curious than accusing.
Eddi's answer is swift. "She wanted him to help capture you. He refused."
That much he figured out. "Something about the way she told me made me think that he hadn't been all she'd hoped." Now he has to laugh: that was quite the assault on the Unseelie Court. "And where did the St. John's Wort come from?"
Now it's Eddi's turn to look smug. "Hairy Meg."
"Meg the brownie?" He can't help the incredulity, even when Eddi's yeah cuts through his realization. "You shame me." He looks down, then shakes his head and meets her eyes. "No, you shame us all. I hope we have the sense to recognize it."
"Showtime, children." The phouka's' voice rattles and sits heavily in the air: it's time. Eddi puts on the helmet again as they follow the direction of Phouka's pointed chin: the line across the field starts moving toward them.
If only he hadn't lost the horse.
Battles are always difficult things to qualify and describe. He starts out with his fellow horsemen, but things degenerate quickly. At one point he finds Hedge being attacked by a creature that looks like a man and a bear; the quarters are too close for the lance but he can end things with his lightning. A blast of white light puts a swift end to that fight and it's good: there's no animosity for what Hedge did. Only relief for what he refused to do and now, they're even. Hedge even smiles at him.
Around them, there's so much fighting. So many things going on. It's only accidental when he glances up and sees a clearing on the Unseelie Court's side, almost as if the creature standing in it is backlit. But it's not backlighting at all. It's a flash of something from his hand. He steps forward to get a better look, and...
Lance still in hand, he stumbles through the door to the portal room. The door slides shut behind him with a hiss, but it takes him some time before he realizes what's happened.
What kind of being was that just now in Como Park?
With the hood over his face he can't tell where they are; part of the Lady's plan is to keep him disoriented. But the magic binding his hands behind his back is strong and there's so little he can do but try to maintain his balance. Wherever they are, two of the disgusting and icy creatures bring him forward and force him to his knees once more. Something is about to happen. When the Queen of the Unseelie Court pulls the hood off his face, he doesn't even do her the honor of acknowledging her with a glance. The dried blood is still caked on his face but he won't do anything about that, either. Let her see him this way. For all he knows, she's going to kill him now. She twines her fingers in his hair and yanks back sharply, and that's when he sees them: Eddi and Phouka, and realizes they're in the Conservatory. Hope rises in his chest. Is his cousin really going to cede the battle just for him?
He wouldn't do it. To keep the surprise off his face, he closes his eyes again.
"Do you know, I shall miss you."
He could spit at her. "I'm afraid that I can't say the same about you." He pulls his hair out of her grip, fierce determination all over his face.
And then it's Eddi's turn: "Now!"
In his long life, there's one thing he's noticed over and over again: in a battle -- any battle -- things happen more quickly than any single person can account for them. A handful of berries, Rowan, he thinks, sprays from Eddi's hand; the queen stumbles. And that's all it takes; it's her magic that's bound him and when it falters, he's finally able to free himself. And once his hands are free, he can use his own brand of fighting power; snapping the cord around his arms, he lets his hand blaze with intense white light. When he takes aim it's not at the queen herself but at the lamp over the pond. It falls with a splash and a buzz of electricity, sending sparks everywhere, and now's his opportunity: he leaps down off the terrace to join his friends.
His friends, who've come to rescue him in a stupidly brave way but he can admonish them later. Through who knows what magic being worked on either side -- the only thing he has time to recognize is St. John's Wort -- the three of them rush toward the double doors. One of the queen's consorts, a gray thing like those who escorted him in here, drops from the ceiling at them. He hits it with a blast of lightning and the creature explodes, raining down on them. There's nothing left to him but ashes.
"No more of that for a while." He rubs his palm, his wrists, looks frantically around the room. "Hope you've got reinforcements."
"Not until we get outside." The phouka's doing an admirable job dispatching a red cap into the pond where it's sucked under by something that doesn't care what it eats as long as its fed. Oh, he's no fan of the Unseelie Court.
They're on the terrace, and then they're in the palm house, and the fight rages on, and he doesn't have the time to admire its variety or difficulty. All he knows is he's moving on his own, and he has to protect Eddi and Phouka, and he's out of weaponry without the time to recharge, and...
There's Hedge with a tire iron.
There's Carla with a pair of drum sticks.
There's Phouka with... sunglasses for all? No time to question anything; he puts them on and doesn't understand until they're out of the building, into the sudden white glare of carbon arc lights mounted on top of Carla's station wagon. That's brilliant; the dark creatures can't face it.
"Move your ass!" It's Dan in the car; next thing he knows Phouka's shoving him onto the back of Eddi's motorcycle with an I'm faster than he is to quell Eddi's objection. She swears but rides like the wind to the Seelie Court's stronghold: down the hill, across the grass. He leaps off, swats her appreciatively across the shoulders. "Go get him! Hurry!"
As soon as she moves off, he allows himself a moment, but only one. Then he joins his fellow riders: there's a lance with his name on it, even if the horse he used to ride is gone.
Standing tall and proud, he refuses to wear the armor of the horsemen. He wears the blood on his white t-shirt as a badge of honor and of survival, but he wears it also in defiance of his cousin. This isn't the time to make a stand or a political statement, but honestly. He's her cousin. Her own blood. And there aren't so many of them any more, and now that he's free again he's angry. But he takes his lance in his hand and stands tall with the rest of the Sidhe horsemen. Eddi and the rest of the band went so far as to free him. The least he can do is repay the favor by fighting his heart out. The Seelie Court will win Como Park.
"Good." The whole band is present and accounted for.
Phouka sighs. "Good. I am saved from certain death, and all he says is 'Good.'"
It's too hard not to smile at that, so he doesn't try to keep it off his face. "That, and 'Thank you.'" The words sound so strange on his own lips; he's avoided saying them for centuries. They carry too much weight, enfold too much debt. He means them, though. "The bitch-queen said that Hedge had spied for her." He's more curious than accusing.
Eddi's answer is swift. "She wanted him to help capture you. He refused."
That much he figured out. "Something about the way she told me made me think that he hadn't been all she'd hoped." Now he has to laugh: that was quite the assault on the Unseelie Court. "And where did the St. John's Wort come from?"
Now it's Eddi's turn to look smug. "Hairy Meg."
"Meg the brownie?" He can't help the incredulity, even when Eddi's yeah cuts through his realization. "You shame me." He looks down, then shakes his head and meets her eyes. "No, you shame us all. I hope we have the sense to recognize it."
"Showtime, children." The phouka's' voice rattles and sits heavily in the air: it's time. Eddi puts on the helmet again as they follow the direction of Phouka's pointed chin: the line across the field starts moving toward them.
If only he hadn't lost the horse.
Battles are always difficult things to qualify and describe. He starts out with his fellow horsemen, but things degenerate quickly. At one point he finds Hedge being attacked by a creature that looks like a man and a bear; the quarters are too close for the lance but he can end things with his lightning. A blast of white light puts a swift end to that fight and it's good: there's no animosity for what Hedge did. Only relief for what he refused to do and now, they're even. Hedge even smiles at him.
Around them, there's so much fighting. So many things going on. It's only accidental when he glances up and sees a clearing on the Unseelie Court's side, almost as if the creature standing in it is backlit. But it's not backlighting at all. It's a flash of something from his hand. He steps forward to get a better look, and...
Lance still in hand, he stumbles through the door to the portal room. The door slides shut behind him with a hiss, but it takes him some time before he realizes what's happened.
What kind of being was that just now in Como Park?
