I
%p
Within the shrouds of myth, a kind of song %b
of lovers at the edges of the world, %b
their love accurs'd, a feeling held too strong %b
to keep the threads of fate from being purled %b
about them.  In the ancient woods so wild, %b
a pair whose love would ever grow and swell, %b
to make their names forever so reviled: %b
a man and woman caught beneath a spell, %b
the noble Tel and lovely lady Floridel.
%p
This story must begin before the birth %b
of Tel the King, the fated of the folk. %b
An augurer, they said, watched from the earth %b
and saw an eagle land on blighted oak. %b
"It must," she said, "be signal of a king, %b
a mighty man who yet has not been born - %b
whose will in later years will surely bring %b
his people to their knees, cast low and torn. %b
The Nine have willed this so, and so it must be sworn."
%p
And born he was, in fortress Cithriel, %b
the happy home, the fortress underground. %b
An ancient hall, a proper place to dwell %b
for kings and queens, and champions renowned. %b
So Tel the King was born to Sel and Shae, %b
good rulers, both, who kept a lengthy peace %b
between their kind and giants who in way %b
and deed sought war; sweet days would finally cease %b
when hubris would touch off the tragic masterpiece.
%p
But first, he was a mewling, squealing babe, %b
with copper hair, and startling, sea-blue eyes - %b
a child who loved to run, but ever brave, %b
so fleet of foot, and quicker still to rise %b
to slights perceived, to all the things unsaid %b
but seen behind the veil of courtly grace. %b
For this was not a whelp who ever fled %b
the courtly hounds who lingered in that space - %b
the princeling made his presence felt within that place.
%p
And as the boy stepped boldly into youth, %b
above the hall, beside a reedy brook, %b
a shepherd-girl was born to simple truths: %b
to spring-time blooms, and laughter from the rook %b
that makes its spindly nest up in the boughs, %b
alight with all the colours of the wind. %b
Oh Floridel!  You were so sweet, and now %b
your name hangs heavy, thick with shame and sin - %b
a fledgling framed for knotting what was Tel's own skein.
%p
Surrounded by the presence of her sheep, %b
she learned to love each tiny lamb and ewe, %b
and then, one frigid spring, she learned to weep: %b
a stillborn lamb left stiff upon the dew. %b
And in this way, she wandered, year by year, %b
from quiet dells to wind-swept upland heaths %b
where ever with her flock she heard the clear %b
and present sounds, that cut with clarity %b
the stillness of the rich and green prosperity.
%p
And though austere to some, her life lacked none %b
for music, blown from flutes of hollow reeds, %b
whose simple notes sang soft beneath the sun, %b
hosannas to the earth that filled her needs. %b
Hosanna to the swiftly flowing water! %b
Hosanna to the oak that giveth shade! %b
Hosanna to the weather growing hotter! %b
Hosanna to the shelter of the glade! %b
Hosanna to the Lady and the things she made!
%p
For simple though it was, this life was good %b
and right.  A candle held against the world, %b
a spirit burning bright.  A symbol stood %b
in field and fen, this lovely shepherd-girl. %b
Held as she was within The Lady's arms %b
she soon would be so held within the hall %b
of Cithriel, and bound by all the charms %b
of fairy-kind, enrapt and held in thrall: %b
With Lady's loss, her love for Tel became her fall.
%p
The lovers met beneath a roiling sky. %b
A rider in the dawn, the noble Tel %b
astride a courser seeming as to fly %b
across the moor.  A hunt!  The horses swelled %b
and surged, to circle round the shepherd's flock. %b
Encircled by the lords, she never feared %b
for anything; she raised her voice to talk, %b
soprano free and lilting, high and clear %b
above the fray, a songbird's call upon the ear.
%p
"My name," she said with calm, "is Floridel. %b
I whither wander here upon these moors, %b
among the purple flowers, wherein I dwell %b
with sheep and lamb.  My life, I think, is pure. %b
For I am she who weathers in the hills; %b
who sleeps among her sheep, and then beholds %b
the stars above that shine despite the chill; %b
who watches under weather harsh and cold; %b
a witness as the seasons say how life unfolds."
%p
And watching from the saddle of his horse, %b
the young man Tel, resplendent as the sun. %b
Intrigued, for all around, a show of force, %b
each horseman drunk with glory that he'd won %b
on hunt or battlefield, each armed with spear %b
across the back, and Floridel unmoved. %b
She met the princeling's gaze, no trace of fear; %b
for, with no words, she knew that he approved. %b
Young Floridel, her mettle well and truly proved.
%p
He paused but for a moment; then he spoke, %b
"I've never met a person such as you - %b
who sees beneath the raiment and the cloak, %b
to speak her words so clear, to cut right through %b
the skein-and-tangle of my noble life. %b
Won't you come with me?  Beneath the earth %b
to Cithriel, our hall, forever rife %b
with feasting and with fill, a place of worth %b
where fairy-kind forever flits with joy and mirth."
%p
She let the words between them cut the air %b
to fall among the flowers on the ground, %b
and pausing for a moment, stopped to stare %b
at cowslips, flowering crimson, that she found %b
about her feet.  A kind of final gift %b
upon the moor.  A fairy ring of sorts, %b
and so she said, "The world is ever swift %b
to say what should be done.  And so, report %b
that in a week I'll join you in your fairy court."
%p
Her answer given, Floridel went west. %b
She took her flock and wandered for three days, %b
until she found a valley, green and blessed %b
with icy streams.  And then, she made her way %b
alone across the moor.  She wept, her loss %b
a heavy thing, a fetter in her chest. %b
Without her sheep, she stepped across the moss, %b
and there among the flowers took her rest, %b
alstroemeria and asters at her breast.
%p
Her sleep was restive as the evening turned %b
to dusk.  A dream apart, her body twitched %b
beneath the sky, beneath the air that burned %b
with things to come.  A shepherdess bewitched %b
by fairy-kind, she offered up herself, %b
an offer that was taken by the fae. %b
So, taken in her sleep, she bade farewell, %b
and found herself beneath the loam and clay, %b
in Cithriel, forever bound and held in sway.
%p
Young Floridel awoke on silk and down, %b
the guttering of the torches on the wall %b
illumination of the life she found %b
by chance, what came before leapt up to fall %b
on rocky shoals.  This hall, this fairy thing %b
her earth and sky, forever intertwined. %b
Oh, Cithriel - a name that ever sings %b
of desperate fate, of stress and two declines, %b
the future of its ruler and his queen-in-kind.
%p
As Floridel awoke, there was a knock, %b
a rap upon the gnarled and twisted door %b
awash with rings from ancient, rift-sawn oak %b
that wavered in the light above the floor. %b
A creak - a spindly girl beneath the frame, %b
a servant of the king-beneath-the-world. %b
She said, "I trust you slept?  I know you came %b
so far, as if a river sighed and purled %b
to bring you here, your future soon to be unfurled."
%p
The shepherd-girl lay still upon the bed, %b
her flaxen hair a mess of twigs and burrs, %b
of bits of moss - and once those words were said, %b
she shook her sleep, sat up, began to stir. %b
She focused on the torches' spit-and-crack, %b
and then upon the servant in the hall, %b
her mind in shock, and taken so aback %b
the hanging silence held there like a pall. %b
Her voice without, a songbird quelled and held enthralled -
%p
and brought back when the servant-girl procured %b
a splendid set of royal purple clothes %b
that caught the light with golden threads, secured %b
by sash and belt.  Perhaps one could suppose %b
cliche, these colours, such that every queen %b
and king have worn as symbols of their power. %b
To do so would dishonour what was seen %b
by all who stirred within that early hour: %b
sweet Floridel, this foreign and so lovely flower.
%p
For here she was; of course she'd heard the tales %b
from shepherd-folk, who told of seven years %b
they lost to merriment, with few details. %b
And sleep?  They spoke of music on the ear, %b
when resting on a high and stony mound. %b
Or glade.  Or underneath a stormy sky; %b
the claim from each of riders in the dark, %b
of silver laughter rustling in the rye. %b
A lover come to take them to embark %b
on journeys soon forgot, a steep and tumbling arc.
%p
She took the clothes.  She changed in open view, %b
and cast aside her tunic and her cloak, %b
naked, and for a moment such that few %b
had ever seen, for few have ever spoke %b
of beauty such as this: a willow tree %b
that bent down low to slip inside the dress. %b
And tying up the belt, she stopped to see %b
her image in a bowl, to first assess %b
herself as best as shallow water can express.
%p
A waver in the basin.  Hazy light. %b
A face that seemed to move, to look away, %b
her mind unsure the details looked quite right, %b
her memories seeming rimmed with dust, and grey, %b
the details left within the world above. %b
The contours of her mind felt thick, unclear %b
in recollection - all the things she loved, %b
her simple days - it felt as if a year %b
had passed to take her life before so far from here.
%p
She looked up from the bowl, and fixed her stare %b
towards the serving girl, who, with no name %b 
she knew, was like a mirror to her fair %b
complexion - darker hair, but still the same %b
in sense - anonymous within this space, %b
and seen, perhaps, but named by shamefully few. %b
But unlike Floridel, she had a place %b
that bound her here for life, a fact she knew %b
too well, a future fixed, and meek with servitude.
%p
So, Floridel was ready.  Through the door, %b
behind the silent servant, to the court. %b
She felt as if this instant should be more %b
than just an echo in the hall, a short %b
staccato.  Something else.  A precious thing %b
cupped tight within the hands, all green and gold %b
within the light.  A vireo, keen to sing %b
its ever-changing song, to ever hold %b
this moment so it's felt instead of merely tholed.
%p
She passed by lords and ladies to her side, %b
so tall and proud-eyed, splendid in their clothes %b
and well-groomed forms: she then increased her stride %b
to find the court, and for a minute, froze. %b
Impossibly, it seemed an endless room. %b
A trick of glamour?  Or, perhaps, a truth %b
left carved in stone, and vaulted like a tomb %b
to hold the wilting flower of her youth, %b
the meanings to be found with the hall abstruse.
%p
The ceiling held such strange and wondrous lights, %b
each chandelier an ancient beast, its eyes %b
aflame; and in the judgement of their height, %b
a bestiary cast upon the sky. %b
Their claws held torn the forms of ancient knights, %b
the gore a clutch of rubies in the air. %b
Though full of beauty, still by every right %b 
imagined blood, a ravaging laid bare, %b
the twisting of each face a gasping, dying stare.
%p
Below the lights, a sea of noble lords %b
and ladies, set in geometric rows %b
and patterns.  Everywhere, the glint of gold %b
on fingers, on the neck, a way to show %b
one's favour with the king.  For there he stood %b
upon a dais, by a birchwood throne %b
engraved with dragons deep within the wood. %b
Attention to their savagery was shown, %b
the hateful eyes as lifeless as a river stone.
%p
The king stood by his son and lovely queen. %b
The boy wore shining mail, and by his side, %b
an ancient fairy sword.  Its subtle sheen %b
belied that once it cut a titan wide %b
apart. And then the queen, so proud and tall, %b
a silver circlet perched upon her hair. %b
The spell she cast was palpable to all %b
that watched beneath the dancing lights.  The rare %b
sight of her was stunning: full and sweet and fair.
%p
A hush as Floridel walked in, and came %b
to stand before the retinue, alone. %b
For none within the court could ever feign %b
indifference, their pique and anger shown %b
by sidelong glances.  Whispers.  Every look %b
an accusation, but of what?  Her place? %b
She raised her eyes to meet Tel's own, and took %b
the rest the way a swimmer takes the waves, %b
embracing the nobility with calm and grace.
%p
And then, the sudden voice of Sel-the-King, %b
his baritone commanding silence in %b
the court.  Eyes dropped.  He said, "Today, we bring %b
an unling-child, a girl of earthly skin. %b
Let no one say we stole this shepherdess. %b
She slept upon the asters, on the knoll %b
we laid out for the willing.  Now she's blessed %b
to feast with us for seven years, to know %b
that time is all we're taking; seven years our toll."
%p
And then, he raised his hand.  The room a blur, %b
a feast was set, a thing to marvel at. %b
Each place was set with silver, goblets for %b
the wine.  Along the table, piglets, fat %b
and crackled.  Rainbow trout.  And berries, too, %b
for it is said the fairies love these best. %b
To trap the upland girl, the fair folk threw %b
the greatest feast they had, each one obsessed %b
to see if Floridel would fail or pass their test.
%p
She ate.  A fist of berries, then the wine, %b
the spice and honey heavy on her tongue. %b
An apple baked with cloves.  A snapper brined %b
in salt and sugar, plated high among %b
the sweet potatoes.  Candied plums.  A pie %b
with pecans hidden in the crust.  Her take %b
of food and drink had stilled the court, the sly %b
nobility enrapt with with how she slaked %b
her hunger on the fairy food and came awake.
%p
The room exhaled.  For this had been her out, %b
her way to push the fairy life away. %b
But when she broke their bread, she left no doubt %b
in all their minds.  She made the choice to stay, %b
to dwell with grace within the world below. %b
Now she was theirs.  The merriment began %b
in earnest as her hunger never slowed - %b
within a place like that, who could withstand %b
the painfully simple cunning of that fairy plan?
%p
She found, as if by magic, that she moved %b
towards the nobles seated at the head, %b
the king and queen.  And prince!  For Tel, unmoved %b
by all this revelry, watched her instead. %b
And past the drinking, past the lords she went - %b
her boldness shocked them all.  But there they were, %b
enchanted by the way in which she meant %b
to show her place, her new one, shepherd-girl %b
no more: she felt a change, a thing that shook and stirred.
%p
A sense that now their lives were bound in fate, %b 
entwined within some kind of cosmic play. %b
Despite this, though, she felt the feeling late, %b
once all the stars had gone and had their say. %b
My life will never be, she thought, as good %b
as all the feasting laid about tonight. %b
A consort unaccepted - if I should %b
falter, or if I quaver from their slights, %b
then give me strength to shine against the coming night. 
%p 
II
%p
So by and by, the young girl passed the days %b
enrapt within the stacks, the ancient tomes %b
the fae preserved; for still, the wise men say %b
that fairy folk was learning's ancient home: %b
in Calasim, a library down below %b
the ancient halls of Cithriel, a stone %b
and paper fortress, alluded to, and shown %b
in bits and scraps: in books, in scrolls and koans, %b
the greatest trove of knowledge man had ever known.
%p
By day, she shadowed Tel, an unling child %b
who felt the murmurs of her earthly birth %b
each time she passed the cracking, painted smile %b
of lord or lady; still, she knew her worth, %b
that Tel had chosen her and her alone. %b
And as the others drank into the night, %b
she crept into the stacks, and on her own %b
she learned the runic script, the songs and rites %b
that danced across the page and fluttered in the light.
%p
But books were not for Tel.  He knew his place %b
was on the throne, a prince who soon would rule %b
the hidden world.  He learned to fight with grace, %b
elan, to work his howling sword with cruel %b
intensity.  To give and then to take. %b
His father, Sel, made peace with giant-kind. %b
Between the titan-kin and wilful fae, %b
a peace maintained for generations, blind %b
to hubris and the way it has its own designs.
%p
A precious thing, his father's fragile peace. %b
The stopper of a thousand years of war, %b
it spoke of better times; if not, at least %b
for grass to grow upon the upland moors %b
that held within their hills a mass of bones. %b
Beneath, the mouthless voices of the dead. %b
The nameless men, who with their sigh and moan %b
lay bare their ending: fatted, armed and bled %b
with promises of glory heaped on kings instead.
%p
And Tel was young, and keen to earn his fame. %b
Each morning he took lessons with the knights, %b
the hardened men who fought and won their names %b
while comrades fell, impaled, and felt the light %b
fade.  Later, tactics.  How to lead his men %b
on horse, on foot, through hills or open field. %b
To pass unseen through woodlands, heath and fens. %b
To find the ambush points within a weald. %b
To come like hidden death, to bite and never yield.
%p
If only it were practice, not the way %b
that men approach the world.  That in those halls %b
the swords were show, and never used to prey %b
on weaker things: the frightened peasant mauled %b
and left to die, the entrails in his hands %b
a sickly mess, no way to keep them in; %b
the folk whose fault is just to work the land %b
in places that are coveted by kings. %b
For where there's want, it's sure the sword is what they'll bring.
%p
It's said that in the ages of the world, %b
the fairy folk were first; were that the case, %b
who built the ancient temples, high, unfurled %b
like banners from the sky?  I hear that race %b
of builders passed like sound.  So too the beasts %b
that live in myth.  The nimble, copper birds. %b
The creatures of the ancient woods, not least %b
of all the golden hart.  Unseen, unheard, %b
the mighty stag a call to any man who dared.
%p
The princeling heard the stories as a child: %b
the stag-that-fled-the-day, its golden hide %b
alight beneath the brilliance of the wild %b
blue mornings.  Fleeting.  Eager in its stride, %b
an echo of a magic come and gone %b
when things were new, the firmament unclear %b
and cooling fast, the rules and lines undrawn %b
within the world.  A great and tragic deer. %b
A vestige of an era soon to disappear.
%p
One morning, as the sunrise broke the moors, %b
the fae prepared to take a feasting day. %b
The king and all his company ensured %b
their table never lacked for meat.  They say %b
that ancient folk loved boar; and not the pigs %b
who wallow down in shaky wooden sties, %b
but massive things whose tusks could crack the ribs %b
of lesser men, eviscerate them dry, %b
and leave their bodies underneath the callow sky.
%p
Sel took his son and seven trusted men %b
to ride the world above.  Unpleasant clouds %b
hung low.  They seemed to scrape the ground, and when %b
they moved, the hue and pall were like a shroud %b
pulled loose.  The riders sent a scout ahead %b
to suss the woodland paths, and then to call %b
by horn.  A fourth, a fifth - with quarry spread %b
across a stretch of scraggly wood, the small %b
and humble hunt betrayed the coming of a squall.
%p
The comitatus swept into the trees, %b
with each of them pursuing in that scrag %b
the hoped-for boar.  Behind was Tel, and he %b
was inexperienced.  He caught a snag, %b
the branches reaching in towards his cloak, %b
and causing him to catch.  He flipped around, %b
his body arched and tumbling.  Wildflowers broke %b
his fall.  A sea a hundred yards around, %b
it saved him, like by magic, as he hit the ground.
%p
No rocks, no roots, no hard, uneven soil - %b
the princeling lay within the gentle flowers, %b
and watched the mist above him teem and roil. %b
The sun obscured, uncertain of the hour, %b
it seemed to Tel that something in the haze %b
stood still.  A glint.  A glimmer.  Hint of gold %b
and muscle.  Then, it turned and held his gaze. %b
The deer!  A thing of magic in the cold %b
grey morning, proud and wondrous, grim and hale and bold.
%p
When deer and Tel locked eyes, the prince was struck %b
by how the unassuming creature stood - %b
a loose and easy confidence, that buck. %b
Its antlers caught the light, and if it could %b 
just speak, then it would surely voice disdain %b
toward the stripling, winded in his bower %b
beneath a mountain ash.  The fairy thane %b
stood up.  He drew his bow with all his power, %b
and sent an arrow shrieking in that morning hour.
%p
The arrow arced by magic, seemed to float, %b
meander through the trees, and disappear. %b
The stag raised up its head, and shook its coat. %b
A sheen of something human in that deer, %b
a throaty kind of laugh, a knowing glance %b
toward the gobsmacked prince.  A sudden roar %b
from somewhere in the distance, that expanse %b
of dying brush, the hart now gone: before %b
the prince, the kind of test that he'd been dying for.
%p
He heard the thing before he saw it.  Thrum - %b
reverberating, hanging in the air, %b
an echo in the woods, a warning.  Thrum - %b
a heavy beat, a drum-shot, deep and spare. %b
The leaves and flowers bent down softly.  Thrum - %b
now closer, louder.  Trembling in the sway %b
of alder branches, slender starlings.  Thrum %b
and crash!  The woods themselves in disarray: %b
a giant roared and raised his blade towards the fae.
%p
As high up on a mountain, bits of rock %b
fall loose and tumble down, increasing speed %b
and fury, so the massive giant shocked %b
the prince.  A force of hell, it tore the trees %b
apart, but staggered, arrow in the eye - %b
that shot that wove by magic past the deer %b
had caught the towering hunter by surprise. %b
The thing was dying - arrow sunk and pierced %b
his brain, and yet his judgement, full of hate, was clear.
%p
A seventeen-foot blade, a cleaver forged %b
with breathless skill, the massive sword smashed through %b
the brittle trunks like matchwood.  Bit and gorged %b
on starlings.  Shook the earth.  The princeling knew %b
that blade meant death.  He feinted left and rolled %b
into a slough, a reedy, dried up ditch. %b
He grabbed his horn, and from his lips he tolled %b
a single note and held it, something which %b
he knew would call the riders to this roll and pitch.
%p
But as the note was blown, the sword crashed down. %b
He scurried left, and choked as grit and dust %b
exploded in the air.  He felt he'd drown %b
within that sea.  He tasted earth and must. %b
And then he felt his sword within his hand. %b
The warmth within the hilt, the singing blade, %b
the way it caught the light - he'd make his stand %b
within this narrow ditch, this reedy glade, %b
a princeling overmatched, but grim and unafraid.
%p
The giant turned to raise his blade again, %b
but Tel was far too quick.  He leapt and swung. %b
A flash of silver, then a roar of pain - %b
the stroke had caught the ankle, and then sprung %b
an artery.  The hobbled creature sprayed %b
and screamed, and as it did, the willows shied, %b
the tallgrass bending low as if to pray %b
to be released from fury amplified %b
by ankle bones exposed and tendons slashed aside.
%p
Unsteady, now, the giant snarled with hate: %b
"You petty thing, you gnome-beneath-the-earth, %b
you thought that magic deer would be your fate? %b
You'd shoot it dead, its hide to show your worth %b
within your court?  You fool.  Your actions reek %b
of pride and ruin, your hubris shining bright %b
as dragon-gold.  I swear my sword will seek %b
an ending, both of you and all your knights: %b
I'll have it said that Choros stood and made his fight."
%p
For as he spoke, the tell-tale sound of hooves - %b
the king and riders heard the note, and came %b
like ghosts upon their mounts.  The dry grass moved %b
to part.  Beneath the clouds, the weather waned %b
to cold, a frost now settling on their arms %b
and mail.  A fairy ring, a circle formed %b
to keep the fairy prince from ill and harm. %b
Each rider knew the task he must perform: %b
to shelter king and son within the coming storm.
%p
The giant roared.  He spun his sword, and hurled %b
it at the ground.  So by design, it bounced %b
and cut apart three loyal men.  It twirled %b
the guts and sinew high and wide, announced %b
with certainty that hard-fought peace was dead. %b
That blade killed Col, the councillor to the king; %b
and Brin, and Ran, two huntsman who instead %b
would feast no more.  Sel let his sabre sing %b
and galloped down to make a bloody offering.
%p
He charged with speed, a rider at each side. %b
The three of them rode hard, and dug their spurs %b
in tight, assured that this must turn the tide: %b
a royal charge, the kind of noble corps %b
the poets love, that sound the lutes and harps %b
when told by torchlight in the warmth of halls %b
on winter nights.  Here now the king, his sharp %b
and singing sword; here now the spit and squall, %b
a clash to cut and rend, to crush and tear and maul.
%p
Sometimes the songs are wrong.  Sometimes they lie %b
in wait, an adder in the reeds.  Sometimes %b
they shriek and break apart.  Sometimes they shy %b
away, betray a stumble in their rhymes. %b
Sometimes they close the shutters; in the hearth, %b
a smell of something burning, smoke and lye. %b
Sometimes they cling and hold like dampened earth, %b
the way a rotting body sticks to lime. %b
Sometimes the falsehoods sweeten, harden, ossify.
%p
When lauding dying kings, the minstrels say, %b
"His end was gentle, glorious his reign." %b
They never speak of violence, of the way %b
he bled to death, or how his guts and brains %b
were spread across the earth.  When Choros caught %b
the king, he brought a branch across his face %b
with so much strength, it seemed as if it ought %b
to pry his head apart.  An ugly fate, %b
a sudden, bloody end for such a man of grace.
%p
The king went tumbling hard, and hit the ground. %b
His face a fleshy pulp, he gurgled out %b
a name that mixed with bits of teeth, a sound %b
like "Shae".  Convulsions.  Every cough a spout %b
of blood.  Then silence.  Oh, how Choros roared! %b
It shook the glade, his club a clotted mess: %b
the twice-crowned king, the fallen fairy lord %b
was dead.  With that momentum repossessed, %b
the wounded giant raised his club to meet the rest.
%p
"Devil!"  A ringing cri de coeur from Tel, %b
who dug his heels and sent his courser wild. %b
He raised his sword to signal coming hell, %b
and then, without a word, began to ride. %b
The fallen king's two riders circled round. %b
The strongest knight, Ilar, was struck and crashed %b
down hard.  His body hit the rocky ground, %b
his plate-mail seeping.  But the other flashed %b
his sabre by the giant's wrist, began to slash -
%p
The blade hit skin, then muscle, blood, and bone. %b
He missed the wrist, but caught the forearm flush %b
and cut it cleanly.  He could not atone %b
for having failed his king, perhaps to rush %b
ahead, and take the blow instead - but this %b
was something.  Comfort?  No.  But something, still. %b
Emboldened, any lingering fear dismissed, %b
the new king and his riders in the chill %b
of morning rode towards the giant for the kill.
%p
They hacked and hewed.  The giant stood no chance, %b
his good arm gone, his ankle slashed to threads. %b
He dodged a blade, but faltered.  In that stance, %b
uncertain in the outcome, in his legs, %b
perhaps in how the bards would sing his name. %b
But Choros was committed.  Did he not %b
just fell the fairy king?  Well, now the same %b
would be their fate.  The minstrels say he fought %b
ferociously, his very life an afterthought.
%p
The fairy knight that took his arm came round. %b
His sabre flashed, impaled the giant's side, %b
but Choros held the rider's arm, and bound %b
the man to him.  Dislodged the blade.  A cry %b
as giant slowly ran the sword through mail, %b
and up and through the windpipe.  Brittle air: %b
the gasps were lost as Choros faced a hail %b
of blows, the riders on him.  Everywhere %b
a blade, a spear, the giant falling, dying there.
%p
A shudder, then the darkness took his eyes. %b
The three men paused to catch their breath, and scan %b
the carnage.  Underneath the steel-grey sky, %b
their former king and five good men began %b
to cool.  And in the air, a chill, a sense %b
that peace had come and gone.  Ephemeral. %b
The days when folk could live their lives content, %b
a moment in the past made visceral. %b
A songbird in the morning, longed-for, temporal.
%p
Tel cleaned his sword on speargrass, raised his voice, %b
and spoke.  "I never thought that I would be %b
made king this way.  For if it were my choice, %b
I'd spend my life in happy waiting, free %b
to hold my aging father in my arms. %b
What stars could ever cast aside this man, %b
this man of men, this king who would disarm %b
the world?  So hear me, now, and understand - %b
we'll never see his like again within this land."
%p
That evening, Tel's men headed north for wood %b
to build a pyre, and let him come to grief. %b
He knelt before his father, understood %b
that soon he'd draw the spirit out with leaves %b
and logs, a bed to lay the king-that-was %b
to sleep.  A beacon in the night.  They built %b
a crossing-bridge beneath the corpse.  Paused %b
to say some words.  Tel lit the base, and felt %b
a rush of anguish as he watched the body melt.
%p
The company returned, an empty hall %b
their welcome home.  The silver had been set, %b
amphorae placed, but absence is the pall %b
of merriment.  They poured some wine, and wept. %b
The clamour roused the sleepers.  Lanterns lit. %b
Now all around the hall were laughs, delight %b
the king had come - at last!  And bit by bit, %b
subsided, as no glamour could disguise %b
the heavy dwindling, the losses realized.
%p
The silence as the widow-queen arrived %b
descended on the room, as if the air %b
itself proclaimed the news: her son alive, %b
her husband gone.  The grief she wore was bare %b
and evident, her lovely face now gaunt, %b
her skin stretched thin where once her happy smile %b
had charmed them all.  This fated hunt would haunt %b
her waning days; a sudden, sick surprise, %b
as when one digs and finds a buried, broken child.
%p
She said, "My darling son - I waited well %b
into the night, drank tea until the dregs %b
ran cold.  I felt it when your father fell. %b
I felt him go, and heard his spirit tread %b
to find the world beyond, below that lake %b
that beckons blue-and-black.  His wayward soul %b
will find its rest: beneath the silt and slate, %b
in fields of asphodel, there is a knoll; %b
and lying there, the only man who made me whole."
%p
With anguish in her eyes, she looked away. %b
A servant wrapped her shoulders in a shawl; %b
then looking up, she stopped, as if to say %b
something, but caught herself.  A senechal, %b
an older man in black, gave up his arm %b
and led her to her quarters, where the bleak, %b
unfiltered truth of loss would come to form %b
her narrative, her turn from strong to weak. %b
And as she left, her battered son began to speak.
%p 
"I come to you in great humility. %b
The great king Sel, the maker of our peace, %b
is dead; so too the credibility %b
of truce.  For in the ancient woods, I loosed %b
an arrow at the golden hart.  It veered %b
so swiftly.  What but magic could have claimed %b
the course?  The shot was swift and true - a spear %b
that caught a giant, split his eye, and maimed %b
the bladed beast: enraged and bloodied, wild, untamed."
%p
"I called them with my horn, those noble men %b
of Cithriel, but this was not a day %b
for bloodless glory.  Riding down the glen, %b
my father felt his spirit fade away %b
when caught across the face - an aspen trunk, %b
as nimble as a rod in giant hands. %b
We slew the beast, then made a pyre from hunks %b
of knotted oak, a boat built high and grand %b
to sail my father deep into the quiet land."
%p
As Tel was speaking, Floridel emerged %b
to stand before the crowd.  Though all the lords %b
and ladies watched, she never felt the urge %b
to wilt.  Their knowing stares might underscore %b
that these were not her folk, but he was hers. %b
Her fairy king.  Her rider on the moor. %b
He'd stolen her away; she'd not demur %b
to any courtesan.  So, tall and pure, %b
she spoke, her voice commanding, high and proud and sure.
%p
"The peaceful days we've loved," she said, "will change. %b
I know of giant-kind.  They're neither cruel %b
nor merciful, but strong, and have a strange %b
and keen intelligence.  We would be fools %b
to think our merriment will carry through %b
the coming night with darker days in store. %b
So light the fires, and take up arms - eschew %b
the pleasantries, and face the jaws of war! %b
For only then we'll find the things worth dying for."
%p
A murmur as the fickle crowd approved %b
the fire of Floridel.  Here was a girl %b
they knew was not their own, and yet still moved %b
and spoke as fairy-kind.  Whose grace and snarl %b
was startling.  This was no shepherdess %b
who sat by oaten reeds and watched the wolves %b
devour her flock.  And as the queen addressed %b
the hall, the people sensed a sudden pull, %b
their fate careening, tumbling, irreversible.
%p
III
%p
A longhouse built of greystone, walled by tusks %b
of conquered mastodons, the giant hall %b
called Farstead stood and watched the coming dusk. %b
Its stones were massive, finely cut, and hauled %b
from lowland quarries through the winding plains %b
whose grasses sway and shiver.  Up towards %b
the central gate a pair of figures came, %b
exhausted, but their faces set and hard, %b
and in their arms, a body and a massive sword.
%p
The taller of the two threw down the blade. %b
It clattered on the rocky, fallow earth, %b
announced to both the sentries at the gate %b
that now the feast was done.  So too the mirth %b
of those that drank within: a sudden shout %b
brought men and women rushing, armed and mailed. %b
They fixed their helmets, grabbed at spears, stepped out %b
into the autumn air.  This day would hail %b
a terrifying war; the hope of peace had failed.
%p
A parting in the crowd.  Throughout the throng %b
of able fighters came their warchief.  Known %b
as death in battle, he'd been serving long %b
enough to stitch his armour with the bones %b
of those he'd fought and felled.  He understood %b
the way to split and hew, to show the fae %b
he wasn't some mere trifle in the woods. %b
He'd cleave the earth and any in his way: %b
Arkadios, the champion, would have his say.
%p
"Brave Choros!" roared Arkadios.  "I'll see %b
your death avenged a thousand fold.  I swear %b
I'll bring the fair folk low, and make them plead %b
for mercy I don't have.  I'll lay them bare! %b
I loathe those gussied, gilded fops - they make %b
a hard-fought peace, and break it just as fast. %b
They'll die beneath my axe, and if it slakes %b
my grief, then may you find some rest at last. %b
So let us mourn our brother; now the die is cast."
%p
Held crooked beneath his arm, a monstrous helm %b
of ancient silver.  Not the king's demand %b
for torques and rings, whose shimmer overwhelms, %b
but rarer, built up as the world began %b
to take its shape, an alloy hard as steel. %b
The mask was like a dragon's face, so when %b
he placed the helmet on his head, the feel %b
was fear: a giant for a moment, then %b
appearing as a creature from the darkest fens.
%p
He stormed into the guardhouse for his axe - %b
taboo to bring one's weapons in the hall - %b
and found that cleaver propped within the racks %b
of lesser soldiers' halberds, swords, and mauls. %b
A jagged edge, a wicked, arcing curve, %b
and written in the metal was its name. %b
They called it Blood and Glory, I have heard. %b
Its forger was a smith of much acclaim - %b
an artist in his craft, a servant of the flame.
%p
He snarled, "So which of you now standing here %b
will help avenge his death?  And which of you %b
want blood, but also keep a mind as clear %b
as fresh-burnt woods?  I have no truck, no use %b
for those whose deeds are timorous and meek. %b
We'll ride in like a storm comes off the sea: %b
pent up, raging.  Let them say we reek %b
of blood and lust for death.  I swear we'll see %b
an end to all this prattle on the fae mystique."
%p
Two figures pushed the other folk aside. %b
The first, a slender creature, flashed a smile %b
that glinted like a brace of open knives. %b
The other one was thick and scarred, a vile, %b
unpleasant man known mainly for his acts %b
of sex and violence carried out on raids %b
along the coast.  "Arkadios!  A pact!" %b
the slender one proclaimed.  "Before this day %b
is done we'll drain the bathers in their sacred glade."
%p
A shudder shook the crowd, for each one knew %b
the fair folk's virgin girls would come to bathe %b
tomorrow in a copse of elm and yew - %b
a warm spring bubbled there, and people say %b
that place was sacred ground for gods and men. %b
That there the first folk sacrificed at night, %b
beneath the sprawling heavens, when, it's said, %b
the world was strange and new.  And now, alight: %b
with spit and crackle, kindling catching, burning bright.
%p
Arkadios just nodded.  "There are times %b
when people cast civility aside. %b
I feel that your suggestion will define %b
this war.  I'll have no talk of it, of lines %b
we cannot cross: there's victory, or else %b
there's total loss.  We'll let their bodies lie %b
like offerings, laid out to bleed in rows %b
or simply left to rot.  Beneath the sky, %b
we'll stack them four feet up.  So let the crows %b
and buzzards salivate - we'll feed them as we go."
%p
The three of them loped off, toward the plains %b
that ranged into the distance, like a sea %b
of speargrass, oats and rye cut through with veins %b
of wildflowers.  Here and there, a bumblebee, %b
its lazy spiral.  Rustles underneath - %b
a rabbit, keen to lose a trailing hawk. %b
The grasses formed a halo or a wreath %b
about those savages.  They did not talk. %b
The coming murder sped them, silent as they stalked.
%p
As minutes turned to hours in that grass, %b
they held their pace, the canter of a beast %b
who has not killed for days, and comes at last %b
upon a grazing deer.  They'd have their feast, %b
and soon enough.  When evening came, they drank, %b
and ate a meal of meat and fruit.  They found %b
the prairie's edge, its fringe, looked out, and sank %b
below the grassline.  No one spoke.  No sound. %b
Beyond them stood a ring of trees that formed a crown.
%p
A crown of elms, whose leaves were trimmed with gold, %b
great sentinels with trunks of corded steel. %b
I hear in days gone by, the fair folk told %b
of voices, bits of music, things once real %b
that passed, but held on.  Vestiges.  A trace %b
reverberating softly in the air. %b
Some latent magic, rooted hard, emplaced %b
within those trees; a way to parse and pare %b
away the present, leaving something sparse and spare.
%p
And waiting through the night, the helpless moon %b
cried out, a silent witness left unheard. %b
Within the grass, the giants waited - soon %b
they'd wash the earth with blood, a slaying spurred %b
by slaying.  Violence finds its happy home %b
in vengeance, and when decent people let %b
a tyrant in their midst, they're surely shown %b
a mailed fist, their will subordinate %b
to all the cruel desires of fools and martinets.
%p
And barely had the first dew touched the grass %b
when breaking through the dawn, a train of girls %b
as lovely as the morning.  There at last %b
the giants' prey, the ones that they'd unfurl %b
like bloody banners high atop the trees. %b
Intensely beautiful.  A waking dream %b
lit up with laughter.  There will never be %b
such words to ever truly set the scene %b
as each unrobed and stepped into the holy spring.
%p
Now as these girls were young and under elm, %b
their laughter rising, nesting with the birds, %b
the giants crept, their weapons loose but firm %b
within their grasp.  The virgins wept.  They heard %b
but did not run, accepting that their fate %b
was witnessed under heaven, wept until %b
their throats were cut, and one by one they bled %b
out in the water: gasping, dying, still. %b
A grisly murder dressed up as a righteous kill.
%p
A deathly silence settled on that place %b
as all the birds went still.  The robin held %b
its cry; the grey jay, too.  They knew the grace %b
was gone, as surely as the girls were felled %b
and floating in the water.  Up above, %b
the early morning sky was spent and grey. %b
A sense of loss, perhaps, or even of %b
impossibility - of how this day %b
had seen such innocence and beauty snatched away.
%p
The giants were not done.  They took the girls %b
by fistfuls of their hair, and in the ring %b
of sacred elms, they hung them high.  The world %b
would mark this day, as through the creak and swing %b
of branches, something good had changed.  Perhaps %b
the meaning of the world-that-was had died, %b
or pulled away, receded, leaving gaps %b
that lesser men would rush to fill with pride, %b
their hatred like a cancer growing deep inside.
%p
They left the bodies twisting in the wind, %b
and on the grass they wiped their weapons clean. %b
No way to ever fully speak the sin %b
they carried out that day, though each was keen %b
and certain that they'd only played their part, %b
avenged a brother, paid it back tenfold, %b
when time would show that all they'd done was start %b
a slaughter.  Nothing righteous; something cold. %b
A grisly pageantry the world would watch unfold.
%p
The three of them just paused, then went their way %b
back home, towards the towering, ivory hall. %b
And as the lovely corpses hung and swayed, %b
a group of fairy folk arrived, recalled %b
when afternoon arrived, but not their girls. %b
They came from Cithriel, towards the elms, %b
but stopped when they could see their daughters hurled %b
like streamers.  All of this was in the realm %b
of disbelief: the searchers sick, and overwhelmed.
%p
As several men threw up, there was a blast %b
of wind, the corpses shaking with new life, %b
writhing; and as the wind died down, they passed %b
again to death.  So someone took a knife %b
and set about to cutting down.  They climbed %b
and clambered, hacked at hair.  The bodies dropped %b
to pairs of waiting arms.  The mood was primed %b
and ready to ignite as each man caught %b
his lifeless daughter, victim to what hate had wrought.
%p
Each girl lay limp, head back, throat opened wide. %b
The mourners formed a slow procession back %b
and found the fairy knoll, where soon a cry %b
of wrath and indignation would attack %b
the very stones on which the fae had built %b
their court and way of life.  They fought, they thought, %b
with honour; but the rules had changed, and gilt %b
would never mend their daughters.  Tel had brought %b
in savagery, the outcome of his errant shot.
%p
That errant shot played over in his mind %b
as he and Floridel sat in the still %b
and heavy silence of their room.  The wine %b
sat in decanters, barely touched, the will %b
to drink surpassed by that for clarity. %b
He sat, unmoving, trying to make peace %b
with why the girls were gone.  Barbarity %b
or just forgetfulness?  The questions ceased %b
when clamour broke his spell and forced his quick release.
%p 
No whisper in his mind, no awful thought %b
could ever hope to steel him for the way %b
the lifeless girls arrived, their bodies caught %b
and cradled tight like sacks of opened grain. %b
As Tel and Floridel arrived, a hush %b
had stilled the people gathered in the hall. %b
The silence had afforded grief, enough %b
to mourn this passing, wordless and appalled: %b
the sight of those poor girls made paupers of them all.
%p
That moment felt like hours, felt like days. %b
The mourners and the rescuers were one %b
in how they felt their pain, and in the way %b
it spoke of those lives had just begun. %b
For is it not the case that life is grief %b
and love?  That each of us will leave our trace %b
in others?  Maybe.  Let it be relief %b
that parts of us will find another place, %b
instead of just causality confused with grace.
%p
It came to Tel to break the silence.  "Now %b
is not the time to plot revenge, but give %b
our love toward the newly dead.  They bowed %b
beneath the mid-day sun; like sparrows, lived %b
but briefly, passed, a kind of hazy sight %b
we know was lovely.  May we understand %b
that every one was youth and strength and light; %b
and one day may we come to understand %b
the skein of colours woven from their single strands."
%p
A murmur of approval, then the task %b
of tending to the dead.  The girls were bathed, %b
the flaps of neck sewn up, each face a mask %b
of tints and paints.  They'd even found a way %b
to set the face to how it once had been - %b
so that the scream was gone, the jawline bent %b
to cop the faintest smile, the kind of grin %b
that's sweet despite the falseness, and it lent %b
a final bit of glamour, held and quickly spent.
%p
The girls were buried deep within the earth, %b
within the galleries reserved for kings %b
and queens, their presence testament to worth, %b
not wealth.  It's said that every one would bring %b
such joy and laughter, that they were a light, %b
a brief illumination.  Some might say %b
their lives were interrupted, but despite %b
the way they went, they'd never fade away - %b
beneath a savage world their bones were free and gay.
%p
IV
%p
The business of the planning came at dawn. %b
It was, it's fair to say, a restless sleep, %b
the kind that comes in snatches, quickly gone, %b
a guest that finds its own way out, that creeps %b
across the rafters, stirring dust and bones %b
of mice and long-dead birds.  That fitful night %b
was like the ones that find us weak, alone - %b
a bleak aubade, where worry casts its blight %b
and traps us in between the dusk and coming light.
%p
So Tel and all his planners gathered round %b
a massive birchwood table, even as %b
the new-crowned queen, young Floridel, had found %b
her peace in prayer, as lovers ever have %b
when staring down a war.  She had a place, %b
a hidden cave whose floor was full of ferns %b
that bowed beneath a skylight as it traced %b
the outline of her form, and how she yearned %b
to watch the fairy riders make a swift return.
%p
Her words were whispered, tiny little birds %b
that settled in to roost within the light, %b
its cracks and spaces.  Elsewhere, Tel began %b
to plan a vicious slaughter, one that might %b
cause reconsideration of this course %b
among the giants.  Surely they'd expect %b
retaliation, a quick display of force, %b
acknowledgement toward the bloody debt, %b
That there had been a cost, that now he must collect.
%p
A show of force was something that they'd lose, %b
when taken man for man.  The fae were few, %b
the giants fewer, yet he knew a ruse %b
was necessary.  Something cunning, shrewd - %b
he'd watched with horror deep within the woods %b
as Choros tore apart his king and men, %b
despite a severed tendon; understood %b
how many unbled boys would die, and when %b
the fae and giants met head-on, he couldn't win.
%p
The king proposed a ruse, a sleight of eye %b
to show his armoured men as willow trees. %b
A cunning bit of glamour, that - surprise %b
the giant-folk, come at them suddenly: %b
a summer storm, a breaker at the bow, %b
the howling dead that lurk beneath the waves. %b
Each one of them had made their grief, and now %b
they'd get the spit and clamour that they craved - %b
the chance to send the killers to an early grave. 
%p
Assent.  There was a current in the air, %b
a charge, a thing anticipated - how %b
once they had cast aside the glamour, there %b
would be a slaughter in the woods.  And now, %b
the time to map the details - figure out %b
how each of them would fit into their role %b
and tasks, their place.  Nothing was left to doubt, %b
those men.  They planned a pageant to behold: %b
a bloody spectacle, a shambles to unfold.
%p
With everything in place, they went to form %b
a company of men.  They rapped on doors, %b
they woke the sleepers; passing spears, they warned %b
that soon there'd be a storm, and that before %b
they slipped back in the fairy mound, and down %b
into the hall, there'd be a reckoning, %b
that some would pass with just the barest sound %b
to see their hazy fathers beckoning, %b
their body's breathing slow and gasping; hoarsening -
%p
But now, just slips of darkness from the mound. %b
Wraith-like, silent; against the morning light, %b
three dozen men, but not the faintest sound %b
from either speech or movement.  Barrow wights. %b
The grim and set expressions of the dead, %b
for each of them had bled out with the girls, %b
and helped them finally close their eyes.  Instead, %b
a kind of calm held back their murderous snarl, %b
a plaster troweled overtop a hateful howl.
%p
Each warrior a dragon in his mind, %b
the men wore mail coats, spear shod - some had blades %b
whose lineage stretched back to the decline %b
of ancient magics, things of light and shade, %b
deeply amoral.  As the world began %b
to firm and cool, its magics lost their weft, %b
their quintessential shape, and in the span %b
of cosmic time, there was a kind of theft, %b
a leaving that, unseen, had left the world bereft.
%p
Still, parts of what had left were left behind, %b
and took on solid form within the bogs, %b
a shimmer in the iron, intertwined %b
impurities, a clear reminder of %b
the world that was, the pattern of each blade %b
tumultuous, as if the winter sky %b
itself were drawn into the steel and made %b
to keep a shape, imprisoned, calcified - %b
a thing to shear through bone, to awe and terrify.
%p
And some were given names.  They carried them %b
from hand to hand, the meanings briefly known %b
then lost, lacunas hidden in a thrum %b
beyond all hearing, in its overtones - %b
for names are but a brief and passing thing, %b
a label at a given point in time %b
that calls to mind the hopes of kings and queens %b
to resonate in history's grand designs %b
and live beyond the body as it's heaped with lime.
%p
They moved in staggered groups of three, the sight %b
resembling the segments of a snake %b
when seen in profile, tufts of tall grass spliced %b
with flesh and mail.  They rippled past the lakes %b
where marsh birds caught the sway of cattails: crake %b
and grackle, red-winged blackbird, constant cries %b
across the wetlands, sounds that let them make %b
their movements softly, skirt the sloughs, and try %b
to pass unheard beneath the bleak and hoary sky.
%p
Their boots grew thick and damp.  While not a bog, %b
the ground was wet and loose with last night's rain, %b
puddles pooling within the dips, a slog %b
through sphagnum, marsh grass - how else to explain %b
their laggard's pace?  Their feet a blistered mess, %b
the soles soaked through with blood and grime, they ate %b
a cold meal in silence, the day's egress %b
to dusk and embryonic night a slate %b
of broken stars, a seeping cut, an aspirate.
%p
The following morning, the company made their way %b
around a set of staggered, brackish pools %b
that buzzed with new mosquitoes and delayed %b
their schedule.  The weather never cooled, %b
remaining humid, moisture in the air %b
becoming condensation on the skin, %b
beads that reformed to rivulets, and where %b
the flat of an axe head touched the back, the thin %b
cotton became a butterfly or violin.
%p
Appropriate, for now they broke away %b
and came upon a field of wildflowers, tipped %b
with monarchs, hairstreaks, skippers.  In the play %b
of morning light, the insects hummed and sipped %b
at nectar, quavered softly in the breeze %b
that carried in from the east to pollenate %b
anemophilious grasses that eased %b
the earth from bog to solid ground, and traced %b
the colours that, above, appeared to tessellate.
%p
Nearby, they spied a clear and freezing stream %b
and stopped to fill their flasks, to watch the fish %b
flash green and silver: rainbow trout and bream, %b
veneer of verdigris, that as they switched %b
direction, seemed to surge: electric light. %b
They sat in silence.  How to visualize %b
one's placement in the world?  Perhaps the sight %b
of breath becoming wind, a point implied %b
beneath the naked beauty of a butterfly.
%p
It took an effort to stand up, and time %b
to walk from where the tufts of wild grass grew %b
thick and fragrant.  And as they moved, they lined %b
their links of mail with wildflowers, hues of blue %b
and white, a bloom increasing with the hours %b
to form a second armour.  Hard to tell %b
the real intention in those knots of flowers: %b
if something sweet to catch on glamour's spell, %b
or nod to what they were before they unleashed hell.
%p
The evening turned with purpose.  As they walked %b
from beauty into night, the skylark above %b
held back its song in flight, and as it fought %b
its very voice, the air had just begun %b
to cool.  Tremble of thunder.  Darkening %b
clouds, and the low dust began to come alive, %b
remade as fireflies, sweet determinants %b
of dusk and shade, each tiny form alight %b
to glimpse the storm that built against the coming night.
%p
Uneasy, they had found the needed sleep %b
elusive, silver-tongued, beyond the grasp %b
that night afforded them.  Within the sheets %b
of driving rain, the open ground had trapped %b
them, hemming in with its geography %b
a soggy group of men.  Shivering, they shrank %b
into oilskins, ragged blankets, misery %b
beneath the biting squall.  They shook and sank %b
til storm turned into to sunrise on their eastern flank.
%p
Haggard, they tried to shake the rain that soaked %b
their clothes and slowed their movements - hard to walk %b
when wearing dripping wool, and so they choked %b
their sopping clothing, wrung it on the rocks %b
to sit beneath the sun.  But as it dried, %b
a clamour in the distance: horns and drums, %b
a giants' hunt!  So underneath the sky, %b
the fair folk dressed, and let the glamour come, %b
their bodies made to look like willows, stiff and numb.
%p
If only every sallow stood as tall, %b
as graceful - lithe and reaching as the dawn %b
gave way to morning.  Held in thrall %b
by flights of tiny songbirds, come upon %b
by light and air and sound, they slipped inside %b
the easy skin of glamour, letting go %b
of physicalities, of codified %b
social strata they cast aside to know %b
the simple feel of standing where the wild thyme blows.
%p
Stampede of hooves, a kicking cloud of dust: %b
a herd of aurochs, twisting from the north %b
that tried to shake the loping giants.  Flushed %b
from tallgrass, beaten from their rest, their course %b
was calculated, one the giants loved %b
dearly: toward a jump, that place of bone %b
and sky, where on the rocks below, the heave %b
of animals behind would crush the thrown %b
and pin them on irregular and jagged stones.
%p
The aurochs coursing by, the giants cast %b
aside precaution, throwing to the wind %b
their clubs and cabers, tumbling, arcing past %b
the unexpected willows.  In that stand, %b
they stopped, and felt a kind of closing-in, %b
a realization that these trees were false, %b
illusory, a sleight of mind - and when %b
they realized the ruse, they saw their fault: %b
beglamoured and unarmed, they faced the coming loss.
%p
Outnumbered badly, three to one, yet still %b
a potent force - despite their loss of arms - %b
the giants formed an open circle.  Shrill %b
trumpets and clarions, calls to the unarmed %b
warriors, instructions from the war-chief.  So: %b
as one they linked their arms, and then they leapt; %b
the ground deformning afterward, as though %b
an epicentre, for the tremors swept %b
beneath the fae and staggered them to great effect.
%p
This opportunity would not go to waste. %b
A bellow, a great roar - the circle broke %b
outward, charging, so now the fair folk faced %b
a terrifying cavalry: it loped %b
towards them, bestial, but arms raised back %b
as if clutching a sabre or a lance - %b
and as it fell upon them, desperate hacks %b
from swordsmen as the spearmen tried to plant %b
their shafts to catch the impact of that hard advance.
%p
A pair of spears were readied just in time, %b
the long-leafed tips angled and sinking deep %b
into the torso, out the back, a whine %b
of pain as shaft passed flesh and lung, the seep %b
of slow air a whistle from the mouth.  Those two %b
were finished quickly, swarmed with sword and spear, %b
and ended.  With their deaths, the others grew %b
enraged - one grabbed a pikeman held by fear, %b
and tore the man apart, spurred on by hoots and cheers.
%p
So many fae stood stunned, so few of them %b
with combat training past the simple drills %b
that punctuated childhood, and if some %b
thought war was sweet and just, perhaps a thrill, %b
that notion came apart like fingered joints %b
in giants' hands.  The old king's cousin, Kain, %b
was no such man.  A fighter who'd exploit %b
the briefest chance, he lunged, then felt the strain %b
as lance slid up through chin and palate, nose, then brain.
%p
As the giant fell, Kain used it as a spring %b
to meet another, leaping, drawing clear %b
a simple knife of pattered iron, thing %b
of days gone by - and slashing, brought it near %b
his victim's throat.  One more!  But as it fell, %b
another giant grabbed two fae, and spun %b
as if to throw the hammer - with a yell, %b
releasing both the men, who flew as one %b
to crush four others: now the battle had begun.
%p
For with those six, a fog was shaken.  Now %b
the fae showed wild abandon, quick and keen; %b
and now the giants' savagery allowed %b
a different kind of combat, one foreseen %b
when Tel met Choros.  This was something else. %b
A second storm, a squall, a bitter taste %b
of things to come, its repercussions felt %b
as surely as two fae were speared: a brace %b
of peasants, kicking, pinned together at the waist.
%p
A spitting, howling rage, then, as their friends %b
came at the thing that held the writhing spear %b
aloft, and with its free hand, tried to fend %b
away the hail of blades.  In vain: they sheared %b
his forearm at the elbow, tendons loose %b
and flapping.  Leaning over, doubled up in pain, %b
he left his neck exposed, the wound profuse %b
as sword met skin and spine.  The body waned, %b
collapsing as a carcass on the open plain.
%p
Reduced from twelve to seven, hateful stares %b
as each pulled back to form a ring again. %b
Hemmed in by fate, beset by outstretched spears, %b
the seconds stretched to breaking; so, condemned %b
to certain loss, the war-chief gave a shout %b
and grabbed the nearest shaft.  He flicked it back, %b
launching the spearman before putting out %b
another's eye and brain.  A squish and crack - %b
the mind becoming loose, the body going slack.
%p
But as he thrust that spear, an arrow caught %b
his left eye.  When another pierced the right, %b
the pair of shots by Tel snuffed out the thought %b
of one last stand.  The giants knew their fight %b
was done, knelt low to let the fair folk give %b
a final slash across the throat, and send %b
their spirits to the world below.  A gift? %b
The families of the the girls who met that end %b
were feeling little mercy, grim, unpenitent.
%p
They slit the giants' throats, and bled them out. %b
Though it had rained, the ground drank deep, and so %b
beneath each corpse the seepage brought about %b
a searing stain, a shadow.  When that flow %b
spilled out, in fits and gasps, it barely moved; %b
held close, it formed an outline, bound by moss %b
and soil.  The wind fell silent, then, and proved %b
no witness to the knives that pulled across %b
the skin, exposed and bare, that filled the air with loss -
%p
Except for one, that hunter just a boy, %b
his clothes ill-fitting hand-me-downs, the sort %b
passed down to younger brothers, unenjoyed, %b
that scratch against the neck.  And now the shirt %b
was bloodstained, rough with gore; and pausing, Tel %b
prepared himself to end a life so young %b
just like the girls who bled and bled I'd sell %b
them out if I left this boy and oh! they swung %b
like fruit like little ghosts I heard they hung alone for hours oh do it Tel -
%p
"Stop!"
%p
She'd followed close behind, the little finch %b
transformed - now Floridel, all pitch and fire, %b
stared down the group.  She knew a life would hinge %b
on this.  The knife-point quavered.  In the air, %b
unspoken disbelief that such a girl %b
would dare to interfere, to even bring %b
voice to that thought.  Perhaps they thought they heard %b
her wrong.  For who would be so bold to think %b
a shepherdess would ever try to cow a king?
%p
The briefest hesitation, then his choice: %b
the young king pulled the knife, and caused a spray %b
of blood, arterial, the boy-giant's voice %b
gone thin; hands to the throat, he tried to stay %b
the consequence of skin and sharpened steel. %b
Now Floridel, her eyes ablaze, awoke %b
that group of men.  Again, her words a peal %b
of thunder, of far-off bells, she slowly spoke %b
a phrase that opened up, that curled and clung like smoke.
%p
The throat that coughed and sputtered slowly closed. %b
And as it did, her own throat opened, cut %b
unerringly, the knife unseen - she chose %b
to offer up her life, if just to shut %b
the deathblow of a child she'd never met. %b
Forgiveness speaks in many tongues.  It's said %b
that grace is the divine's domain, and yet %b
the smallest act can change the world.  Instead %b
of murder dressed in finery, the young queen bled.
%p
She dropped down on all fours, began to choke %b
and sputter.  Now her linen robes were flecked %b
with spit and splatter; now a fading hope %b
as stunned men watched her kick and bleed out, necked %b
from ear to ear.  But only Tel rushed in - %b
the others, paralyzed, stood back in shock %b
or opportunity.  Some had a grin %b
betray their need to see the unling stopped, %b
a seething rage behind the falseness of their gawks.
%p
He quickly grabbed a fold of ragged cloth, %b
the sort a warrior brings to clean a blade %b
after combat, to wipe the messy froth %b
of blood and bowels.  Frantic, frenzied, he laid %b
the cotton hard across her throat, pressed down, %b
and tried to staunch the wound.  But soon his hands %b
grew slick and wet, her neck a seeping frown %b
that would not close.  Her first and final stand: %b
among illusive willows, so far from fairyland.
%p
By now, the queen had faded, slipping past %b
the mortal world to dwell in shadow. Still %b
and lonely, held between the worlds, she cast %b
curses at thanes that feigned their grief and trilled %b
a false concern.  But down in Calasim, %b
while men-folk drilled and hunted, Floridel %b
had read the ancient texts, those faded, slim %b
records of hours where she sat alone and dwelt %b
within the words, among the runes and what they spelt.
%p
Her first success?  Illusion.  Shifts in light %b
and sound, transliteration of intent. %b
From there, the glamour that the fae could write %b
come need or whim, the currency they spent %b
as cheap as watered wine.  Then something else: %b
a thing that settled as she read, a sense %b
of temporary permanence that held %b
her rapt.  The implications were immense: %b
a folding of the fantasy beyond pretense.
%p
If illusion's just a glimmer in the mind, %b
and glamour's felt more deeply, what she found %b
was older, something darker, more refined, %b
an echo of when substance wasn't bound %b
to form, but will - a turn in meaning, briefly. %b
She felt her soul return.  An awful gasp %b
as those that ringed around her came to see %b
the dead take air, and realized at last %b
the depth of the deception that had come to pass.
%p
Not only did she breathe, the boy was gone, %b
remade by Floridel into a fox, %b
grey-faced and terrified, running home.  But if they saw %b
him missing, no one spoke, transfixed with shock %b
at how she now appeared.  Two flaps of skin %b
that loosely caught the wind, a pallid price %b
she'd wear forever.  The smiling queen.  And when %b
she saw the court again, it would suffice %b
to show what she'd become by how she'd greet them twice.
%p
The warriors who so quickly wore their sneers %b
stood back, for indiscretion had exposed %b
intention.  Now their gilded, thin veneer %b
began to flake away.  Tel knew they posed %b
a problem.  They'd been glad to watch his queen %b
bleed out, their treachery an ugly blot %b
the king could not ignore.  As things had been, %b
they'd never be again.  He'd change their lot, %b
and hammer down the consequence of what they'd wrought.
%p
A moment's pause, then, "Spearmen!  Each of you %b
can see the faces of my courtly host, %b
know which of them is false, and what to do." %b
A flurry as the layfolk ringed and closed %b
around the guilty nobles, shafts out, tips %b
sloped down towards the unmailed legs.  The group %b
who'd smirked at Floridel had neither quip %b
nor qualm.  She'd never be their be their queen.  They knew %b
that death was but a moment.  Then, the follow-through -
%p
"Spare them."  A voice that barely whispered, thin %b
and cold.  They turned to Floridel, who stood %b
and hobbled over, robes still dripping; and when %b
she spoke, her flaps of skin pulled open.  Could %b
the men look past her wretched state, they'd see %b
not only what she'd given for a boy, %b
a single boy, but also for her gleeful %b
would-be killers.  Her love was not a ploy, %b
but given freely even if she'd be destroyed.
%p
Tel nodded.  "Drop your swords!"  Each man obliged. %b
The nobles dropped their weapons on the ground, %b
and felt a sudden emptiness.  Deprived %b
of land and title, banished by the crown, %b
each man stood stunned.  Unarmed, they left the ring %b
of spears for deeper forests, every day %b
uncertain.  So perhaps, then, it would bring %b
some comfort that the king would find the grace %b
to spare their families from the same unhappy fate.
%p
The company marched home in silence, stunned %b
by the breadth of their accomplishments, the sense %b
that though they'd slain the giants, all but one, %b
the victory was pyrrhic.  For they'd spent %b
a score of their nobility, the queen %b
exposing their resentment, proving how %b
invective grows to envy, and what it means %b
to make it exponential, til it shrouds %b
each word, each thought, a cancer carried tall and proud.
%p
Back past the marshlands, past the gaping plain %b
that sprouted trunks and limbs, back past the mounds %b
of corpse-flowers, their pink bloom, the ragged train %b
tried hard to sort the day, and finally found %b
nothing.  Nothing except the ragged banner %b
of victory that carried them to the hall, %b
their frayed standard.  The court would guess the meaning %b
and quickly, loss and absence like a pall; %b
a crumbling cliff beneath their feet before a fall.
%p
They came to Cithriel without a word, %b
and met the staring court with but a clatter %b
as ancient swords met stone, a cloth unfurled %b
to let the exiles' blades spell out the matter. %b
The king had sent those men an empty scabbard, %b
a wide, uncertain path that cut and curled %b
ever away.  But even as they scattered, %b
he couldn't help but wonder if he heard %b
an echo of his own fate in the wider world.
%p
V
%p
Whip-tailed, at the crack of magic, silver fox %b
met earth and air, coordinating fear %b
into sprint, each leg a jumble, body swapped %b
and unfamiliar.  Lean.  A fringe of fur %b
about his vision, giant still in mind, %b
the bestial crept in when thinking back %b
to the ambush and the slaughter, left behind %b
for tallgrass, prairie sky, the taut-and-slack %b
of muscle as he followed some imagined track.
%p
Running, he felt the animal loom large, %b
a feeling that his mind was not his own, %b
not fully.  When he lagged, his fear recharged %b
him, and against the sudden sun that shone %b
feebly above the paling slaughter, pointed %b
home. So he ran, his thoughts on fire, at odds %b
against each other: want and reason joined %b
by some strange magic, leaving him in awe %b
of the flaxen girl, her mercy, and her breathless fraud.
%p
At evening, he arrived back at the gates %b
of Farstead.  Terror took the boy-fox past %b
the guards who shouted as he made his way %b
toward the hall, and as illusion crashed %b
against reality.  His legs went long %b
and loping, and he felt his form take shape %b
as what it was before - somewhat.  A throng %b
surrounded him, a kind of strange embrace %b
that pulled back when they saw the warping of his face.
%p
Part loss, part magic: for as Floridel %b
would wear her necklace, so a price for him. %b
The animal retreating, he could tell %b
his features still felt vulpine: dainty limbs; %b
a snout, now, not a nose; his hair gone grey. %b
And as he spoke, he found his voice would break %b
excited into yips and barks.  The fae %b
had left him live and broken.  Their mistake. %b
He'd never felt more wise, more vengeful, more awake.
%p
So much is said by absence.  When we speak, %b
we make our words a beacon; when we stop, %b
the unsaid comes to focus.  Stricken, meek, %b
it begs beside the roadside, where its loss %b
goes barely seen.  You pass.  It calls your name. %b
A face you recognize, an outstretched bowl %b
that rings and rings with silence.  Laid out plain, %b
the facts were clear, and let the truth take hold: %b
the group was gone, this boy the one remaining soul.
%p
"Rhone!"  And now pushing through the throng was Weyg, %b
a brother to the boy, the eldest one, %b
for they were four in all.  This one was made %b
of steel and certain luck, for he had won %b
respect and commendation for his raids %b
against the unlings.  Vicious when provoked, %b
a skillful spearmen, soon he'd show the fae %b
a bitter lesson, for their ruse had stoked %b
an anger in the man that threatened to explode.
%p
"Arkadios!" he roared, "You godless cur! %b
Our men are killed, my baby brother sent %b
to scurry back, to show that we deserved %b
this retribution.  Oh, this punishment %b
was like for like!  I'll give them this, at least: %b
they didn't hang our brothers from a tree! %b
O wise man!  O philosopher!  You greased %b
that holy ground with blood so that there'd be %b
cessation of hostilities?  A lasting peace?!"
%p
The crowd fell silent, conversation stilled %b
as when a farmer tilling up a field %b
turns up a shallow grave.  Weyg was unskilled %b
when measured by Arkadios.  Each year %b
the young man earned in combat was a trifle %b
in experience when stacked against the bull %b
whose battle-axe had split apart his rivals %b
from skull to groin.  The crowd could feel a pull, %b
a kind of electricity: a death assured.
%p
And then the crowd parted.  Arkadios %b
stared down the boy and brother.  Raised his axe. %b
Not known for nuance, violence was his boast %b
and answer.  Weyg and Rhone ran for the gaps %b
between the gawkers, hoped to slow the fight %b
by holding back the blade.  They knew enough %b
that death was in the open, but they might %b
find victory in confusion.  Splitting up, %b
they circled round and hoped that he might miss their bluff.
%p
Arkadios the clear-eyed saw the ruse %b
for what it was, and brought the axe head down %b
and up, a warning wave that he keenly used %b
to fling and scatter, pry apart the crowd %b
and leave the brothers standing still, unarmed, %b
a deadly disadvantage.  As he kept %b
amused by jukes and feints, he watched them squirm; %b
then seeking out an end, he raised and swept %b
diagonally and found the ground with full effect.
%p
A miss: the shriek of steel was physical, %b
was muscular.  They grimaced with the ground %b
as chips of stone flew up, and visible %b
inside that spray, the young boy Rhone now found %b
the briefest opening, which he tore wide %b
as running at Arkadios, he lunged %b
upwards.  Those vulpine teeth tore deep inside %b
the scrotum, ripping, tearing; as he plunged %b
back down, a piercing scream made clear just what he'd done.
%p
The giant dropped his axe.  The shock of it %b
sent shivers through the crowd: Arkadios %b
the proud, Arkadios the boastful, slit %b
from leg to leg.  Although Weyg had provoked %b
the big man, jibes within the hall were heard %b
with regularity, laughed off, ignored. %b
But Arkadios loved escalation, spurred %b
by cruelty, by others' pain, rewards %b
remembered by the members of the towering horde.
%p
A knife was lobbed from somewhere in the crowd, %b
but loosely, handle out, for Weyg to catch %b
and thrust into Arkadios, who plowed %b
enraged into the blade, his mind detached %b
as surely as his groin.  The steel slipped in %b
but Weyg found no relief.  The bigger man %b
crashed into him, then into the ground, but when %b
Arkadios fell down, the dagger jammed. %b
He gasped, and clutched the handle with uncertain hands.
%p
Inside the hall, his breath became the air: %b
suddenly, their very champion was dead. %b
As Weyg got up, he felt a common stare %b
from all around him, those who'd fought and bled %b
by Arkadios, or for him - so instead %b
of casting off their yoke, he'd made a vacuum, %b
a means for base and lesser men to wedge %b
apart his folk again.  And so too he knew %b
this moment pivoted on what he chose to do.
%p
He slowly turned and met each person's gaze, %b
unblinking, staring through them.  He knew that %b
the room would turn upon a phrase, the play %b
from meaning to intention.  Where he sat, %b
he saw at least a dozen men who'd kill %b
their newborn son to lead the ivory hall %b
beneath their narcissistic banner.  Still, %b
he'd won the fight, and right to lead them all. %b
And so he spoke, and cut the silence like a caul.
%p
"I see a group that sees themselves as sly %b
and cunning, expert raiders of the plains, %b
harassers of the unlings.  I see wives %b
and women who I know can do the same, %b
who guard our hall from raiders of our own. %b
But look around.  Remember who is lost, %b
whose sons and brothers hold the mid-day sun %b
enthralled, who come apart in heat, the cost %b
for virgin girls that bled, who deaths we could have stopped."
%p
"It's becoming clear that size is not enough. %b
The fae are no mere unlings, little things %b
to break beneath our will.  Their cunning's rough %b
and bloody.  Now they've got a warrior-king %b
who would be bold as us, who uses glamour %b
as if a second skin.  We must adapt %b
or die.  Brute force alone will only hamstring %b
our people, bleed us out.  We're so adept %b
at cruelty, we've failed to see we've overstepped."
%p
"We giants are no sorcerors.  Our tricks %b
are wood and steel, our spells our anger, turned %b
to boasts that we're impelled to fill.  These effects %b
we hack and hew ourselves.  We're simple, terse. %b
And if we disappear, they'll say we lacked %b
a way to see the world for what it is, %b
to slough off glamour's snake-skin, peel it back %b
revealing just the truth, its rattled hiss, %b
that curls and coils before it finally comes to rest."
%p
"I know a silver lake, whose waters roil %b
on windless nights; whose shorelines lack for birds %b
though bats tap out with wretched wings the toil %b
and tale the dying try to give their words: %b
sermons beneath the frozen midnight sun. %b
The Caldera! Place of murky depths, of shade, %b
that mouth into the underworld, where fumbling %b
against the wisps of shadow, souls find days %b
stretch out into infinity and drop away."
%p
"Within the shadow lands, the spirits wait %b
to hear the issued judgements.  Clarions %b
ring out for lives well-lived, and send them straight %b
to flowery fields, to laugh and carry on %b
in endless hours beneath the shaded oaks, %b
to drink and sleep by those they loved the best %b
while other spirits wander, holding hope %b
against their chest: who hears the trumpets next %b
can drift away in peace, and finally come to rest."
%p
"The wretched grope and wander in the dark. %b
They babble, stutter, speak in tongues: it's said %b
they offer up their secrets, lit like sparks %b
within the murky caverns, where the dead %b
reach up from pools whose surfaces show deaths %b
over and over, tales from another age. %b
But if shades will speak, then let us take a breath. %b
Step back, and let the mummers have their day. %b
I'll tell you how we'll win the war we've come to wage."
%p
"I'll take my brothers down into that lake. %b
With Rhone, we'll find the others, Carne and Phole, %b
who yesterday went north.  I hope they'll take %b
the long way around the old woods, where the cold %b
weather erupts between the massive trees. %b
The forests of the ancient world divide %b
the present from the past, for those they seize %b
will wander till they wither, and then lie %b
between the bones of those who slumber deep inside."
%p
"The four of us will swim below the black %b
waters, that pressure on our lungs not air %b
but fingers of the dead.  If we come back %b
from dust and shadow, each one of us will carry %b
a little wisdom from the underworld. %b
Until then, make no conflict.  Have the raids %b
return.  Let's have a brittle peace observed. %b
We'll let the fair folk think they've won, or spayed %b
our aspirations - soon the tricksters will be played."
%p
The mood became dissent, as though a wave %b
of realized attention shook the throng %b
of giants: murmurs first, then shouts, as Weyg %b
faced down the opposition, stood head-on, %b
and held an open hand to turn the hurled %b
invective.  Unconcerned by those angry stares, %b
he held until the din had dulled, then heard %b
a sudden sound from close behind, the blare %b
of eighth notes from a hunting horn that cut the air.
%p
An older man, whose hair fell loose in strands, %b
brought down the horn.  He slowly looked about %b
to gauge the rabble and their mood.  He scanned %b
the room from east to west; with every shout %b
he raised his hand.  A silence like a pall. %b
He waited two more seconds for the folk %b
to understand he'd speak and hold the hall. %b
His anger curled, and rising up, evoked %b
a prairie fire that smoked and crackled as he spoke.
%p
"You dogs!  Not one of you has lived as long %b
as I have, seen the winters come and pass. %b
Those skirmishes!  The fairy folk are strong %b
enough, and bold tacticians.  They've amassed %b
an understanding of how we fight, the way %b
we settle things with violence.  Let me lead %b
the brothers round the forest, lest they stray %b
within the shifting boundaries.  Misread %b
those paths but once and none will ever hear your pleas."
%p
Unswayed by rationality, the crowd %b
now bowed the ear before experience - %b
Old Armin was a hunter, one who cowed %b
before no man or beast.  Old Armin sensed %b
the way through everything, had come to see %b
his days grow thin, each evening standing for %b
remaining time, gripped tightly till he'd been %b
caught open-handed, left to drift, unmoored - %b
Old Armin who had passed away just days before.
%p
A simulacrum?  Magic?  Something wavered %b
in front of them, as if a kind of web %b
spread out in three dimensions to enslave %b
their thoughts, a soporific that instead %b
of inducing sleep just lulled their disbelief, %b
each one of them forgetting how the fire %b
consumed his body, or how the numbing grief %b
had held them as they mouthed their silent prayers. %b
As real as flesh, the thing that watched them, standing there.
%p
The giants listened to Old Armin's words, %b
awakened by the oratory, so %b
that though there was a charm to cause a blur, %b
a stutter in the memory, he showed %b
a people swayed by gruffness, by displays %b
of anger and bravado - simple stuff %b
that spoke to how they lived their lives, the way %b
they saw themselves, and how they'd need to slough %b
the haze before the shimmering thing had had enough.
%p
But for now, whatever held them held in place. %b
They cleared away the gore, then took the corpse %b
outside for burial, the fight erased %b
as wives and daughters scrubbed the bloody floor %b
with heavy-handled brushes, digging in %b
until the floorboards took a mirrored shine. %b
They ate their evening meal, and in the din %b
that carried over cups of watered wine, %b
the brothers sensed that something had been redefined.
%p
If supper was uneasy, so was sleep. %b
The brothers huddled underneath their skins %b
and blankets, watching as the night sky crept %b
above them, shaking out a tangled skein %b
of stars, each constellation bright and cold. %b
That night, the insects stopped, the nightjars stilled %b
to silence.  As the early hours unrolled %b
to morning, Weyg and Rhone could feel a chill %b
beyond the weather.  Something queer began to build.
%p
The brothers woke, then packed supplies and filled %b
their waterskins.  They left, and made their peace %b
with what would come - with yesterday a field %b
grown over, its sudden violence now had ceased %b
to be concerning, what-had-been replaced %b
with what-might-be.  They walked in their own way, %b
Weyg with a purpose, Rhone without constraint, %b
meandering, and as he broke away %b
the hours found the fox-child young and unafraid.
%p
And so the green glass morning shimmered, passed %b
to afternoon so quickly that the clouds %b
were pulled apart above them.  Now at last %b
a little sun, some warmth.  But though they vowed %b
to press ahead, they stopped to take it in: %b
the startled flutter of the grouse; the way %b
cordgrass and bluestem caught the wind; and when %b
the heat and birdsong held, there was a sway %b
that held the brothers captive in its interplay.
%p
For even though their kind would flex their might %b
against the fairy-folk and unlings, proud, %b
and violent, too, the giants knew the sight %b
of summer, a duality they housed %b
so easily.  This people who would feel %b
so little as they murdered, as they tore %b
apart the helpless, deaf to all appeals, %b
could taste the sweet west wind, and standing there, %b
appreciate the warmth that now had filled the air.
%p
And afternoon must pass.  As evening came, %b
they ate fresh bread.  They'd packed enough to last %b
a few more days at most, until the plains %b
gave way to wagon tracks.  The unlings passed %b
here frequently - their little shanty-towns %b
were portable.  They'd mount their huts on carts %b
and move until they found some better ground, %b
some undepleted soil.  It was an art: %b
they'd farm a season, maybe two, and then depart.
%p
The ruts had not yet gone to grass.  To say %b
exactly when the wagon train had passed %b
was impossible.  But guess: if every day %b
brought seed-pods on the wind, then you could ask %b
how long they took to sprout.  Perhaps three weeks? %b
At least to get a spiky hit of green, %b
the difference in the height from west to east %b
determining direction, so the scene %b
suggested piece by piece which way the train had been.
%p
Suggestive, too, of where the brothers went, %b
the other ones, as Carne and Phole had left %b
to raid the unling camps.  The tracks had lent %b
their length to which direction, and their heft %b
said east, but trending northward, past the plains, %b
into the scrublands.  Unlings favoured these. %b
The view lent some protection, and explained %b
its reason once they broke the grassy sea - %b
the distant sounds and sights extending endlessly.
%p
North of the hall, the unling settlements %b
were sparse.  The land was most unkind, so crops %b
grew poorly, as the doled-out nutrients %b
were leeched from brittle, crumbling soil, cobbled %b
into meager harvests, winter wheat and rye %b
that shared their space with weeds, while further south, %b
the other unlings watched the summer sky %b
raise grain from rich and ruddy soil, without %b
a care, for raging rivers kept the raiders out.
%p
The bridges that those unlings built held firm, %b
but hid a mechanism where a pin %b
could drop the span.  When giants came, a swarm %b
of unlings pelted them with stones, and then %b
a pair would pry the simple pins away %b
before joining in the hail, as just one rock %b
could break an elbow, buckle knees, and play %b
havoc as hobbled giants limped and stopped - %b
the unlings' smarts allowed them to come out on top.
%p
Now Weyg sent Rhone ahead, to judge the way %b
the wagons went.  When he returned, they knew %b
for sure the train went east; and as they day %b
drew gradually to evening, threads of blue %b
and red spooled out.  Untangled, sunset came %b
quickly.  Their brothers would be near.  First, sleep. %b
For neither knew what hell tomorrow'd name %b
as theirs, or as the low light dimmed and seeped, %b
what kind of bitter harvest they'd be asked to reap.
%p
The two of them slept well.  Beneath the stars %b
and passing clouds, the night was still and cool. %b
With morning, though, a fog set out to part %b
the scrublands - rolling south-east, thick and full, %b
so that when they tried to find the tracks, they failed %b
and stumbled, lost, across the rocky plain. %b
They passed tall features.  Many trees?  They felt %b
a chill around their necks, its texture strange, %b
their path constricting round them like a set of chains.
%p
And as they stumbled deeper, voices creeped %b
inside their ears, to whisper in old tongues %b
from days gone by.  The hazy trees would seep %b
away, then focus, sharpening as a sprung %b
trap before falling back to dull the mind again, %b
the fog alive, a thing itself, its arrival %b
as queer as quick, then gone, its heft sustained %b
by magic.  Now they knew they'd fight for survival - %b
these towering trees the judge and jurors in their trial.
%p
The mist now coalesced in many forms: %b
a flicker every second brought a beast %b
or figure of ancient history, informed %b
by memory of that world, and then increased %b
in tempo so to be a peacock's tail %b
of things-that-passed, bedazzling now, a haze %b
of interlocking images that trailed %b
around them, each one holding up their gaze %b
until a sudden silence as they dropped away.
%p
Then all around them, tendrils of the mist %b
combined into a single form, a man %b
they used to know, Old Armin, and the rest %b
came crashingly clear: the night that he had spoken %b
so convincingly, the old man had been dead %b
for days, and this had been a reaching con %b
that had the hall entranced.  So now instead %b
of skirting round the woods, they had been drawn %b
to the very place they'd wanted not to come upon.
%p
A moment passed, and then came creeping in %b
a thing outside of place and time, a beast %b
whose movements seemed to be carried by the wind, %b
its long steps effortless.  Now all the trees %b
waited and watched.  The creature stopped and stretched. %b
It rose up from all fours to stand upright, %b
the giants staring helplessly, their dread %b
a potent paralytic at the sight %b
of something stitched together out of hate and night.
%p
"Banya."  The name was effortless to Rhone, %b
a memory born from campfires where the late %b
evening curls into woodsmoke, and alone, %b 
the mind turns in against itself.  It skates %b
around what's seen and mines the consciousness: %b
for primal fears that come on darkest night; %b
for faces glimpsed just briefly, ones that press %b
like tongues against the back and then recite %b
a name that licks and flickers on like candlelight.
%p
An ugly whine escaped the creature's mouth, %b
its lower jaw contorted sideways, wrenched %b
so suddenly it drew the brothers out %b
of the moment, and took their eyeline to the clenched %b
and horrifying maw.  The two now took %b
a single breath, and time began to slow. %b
Adrenaline: their focus sharpened, shook %b
their fear.  Rhone pulled a knife; and Weyg, although %b
he'd brought a single spear, drew back, and let it go.
%p
In other tales like this, the strike rings true, %b
and fells the beast; or else it misses wide, %b
a punishment for hubris.  In the blue %b
hour of the day, the spear sunk deep inside %b
the banya, and beneath the expectant trees, %b
the creature held its gaze, then gripped the shaft %b
and pulled the whole thing out.  Its talons squeezed %b
the knotted oak, adjusting to the heft %b
and feel before it curled a smile and hurled it back.
%p
Between them, it blew back their hair, so great %b
the force they felt the creature's toss-and-miss %b
intentional - they knew the banya played %b
them idly once the spear had struck and split %b
its shaft against a laughing hawthorn tree. %b
The weapon hung there, useless.  So if there %b
was an opening, it hid; they couldn't see %b
a way they'd leave these woods, their lives unspared, %b
a spear to mark the place their bones would lie interred.
%p
A rustle from the right.  The creature turned, %b
then staggered underneath a blue-black fire %b
that caught it well off-guard.  It didn't burn, %b
but paused to understand from where the weird %b
had come.  Beside them, one on either side, %b
another pair of giants now emerged, %b
the two they'd come to find, who stepped in stride %b
toward the thing with fire and steel, a surge %b
around the banya as the five of them converged.
%p
With Weyg and Rhone came Carne and Phole.  If Weyg %b
was known for bravery, the middle child %b
would pale before the oldest, Carne, and break %b
beneath his cold and dead-eyed stare.  The wild %b
magics that Phole had always found so easy %b
were useless in close spaces.  Brothers sought %b
an opening, and there beneath the trees %b
it was Carne who had first blood.  The brother brought %b
his massive hammer down upon the banya's spot.
%p
He missed.  The creature was no slouch.  It caught %b
the motion of the hammer, and then leapt %b
by Carne, and as it reached, the creature got %b
its claws across his back, then stopped, and swept %b
upward.  He roared in pain, and now the ground %b
drank deeply.  As the forest shuddered, Rhone %b
crept up behind the creature, and now found %b
an opening.  His knife caught flesh and bone - %b
but the thrust had drawn him in, and left him deeply prone.
%p
The creature spun, and now its muscled limbs %b
were brought against the foxling's slender form. %b
A crack: a half-a-dozen shattered ribs %b
and the banya's voice triumphant as a horn %b
that sounds the bloody climax of the hunt, %b
for now, with Rhone sent flying through the brush, %b
with Carne's whole back a gaping wound, the brunt %b
of the damage was theirs.  A sudden, deadly hush %b
as the trees made up their mind.  They'd surely seen enough.
%p
But if they'd seen enough, they hadn't seen %b
the way that Phole had summoned down the wind, %b
a rope of air that tumbled as it streamed %b
from in behind him, seemingly to bend %b
around each tree.  It caught an open flame %b
he summoned with a cantrip.  Corded fire %b
now ripped into the banya, then away %b
to light the trees themselves, an unstacked pyre %b
that spread now with the wind, the tendrils licking higher.
%p
Shrieking rose up around them as the air %b
itself seemed to increase in temperature %b
as if boiling.  The smoke was like a prayer %b
unanswered, and the flames a signature %b
writ deep into the future, for perhaps %b
this finally was an end to the old ways, %b
where woods were truly wild.  For in the gasp %b
and crackle of those trees, they felt the sway %b
of an ancient magic wavering, then pass away.
%p
Though first, there was the issue of the beast %b
that burned inside and out, a killing thing %b
that leapt at Weyg.  It knocked him off his feet %b
and would have mauled his face had he not clung %b
to the remnants of his old spear's shattered shaft %b
and thrust one end into the banya's eye. %b
He grunted, pressed with both his hands, and passed %b
the shard into its brain.  It shook and writhed, %b
whimpering like a pup until it finally died.
%p
He rolled the corpse up off him.  To his side, %b
the smell of roasting flesh and fur was sweet %b
and strangely indescribable.  He tried %b
to place it.  Almost floral?  But replete %b
with sage, and herbs he couldn't call to mind. %b
How strange that in this carnage it could be %b
distracting, drift him back towards a kind %b
of peace before his brothers came to see %b
him safely up and help him through the burning trees.
%p 
What colours!  Something in those trees was wrong %b
or queer, as flames lit up the sky in greens %b
and blues, a kind of proof this place belonged %b
to someplace else.  The four of them had seen %b
the fog roll in and bring them here, a mind %b
apart; and if they hadn't fled, but stayed %b
to watch the forest burn, they'd have heard a sound %b
diminuendo and then slowly fade, %b
as magic is the bow through which the world is played.
%p
The mist had all but dissipated now, %b
and lifted, so that when the four came out %b
they saw the plain was empty, as if ploughed %b
and planted with wild grasses which had sprouted %b
where once the trees had been.  What sorcery %b
was this?  No stumps, no ash, not any trace %b
of the woods-that-were - was this a forgery, %b
a trap laid out to lure them?  Would there wait %b
a banya or another creature from that place?
%p
An answer came.  A tiny meadowlark %b
sang out, its song a mercy, for in those woods %b
they hadn't heard a bird, the silence stark %b
and visceral.  They stopped, and if they could %b
have spared more time, they may have cared to sit %b
among the grasses, let the hours come, and say %b
this day had been enough - perhaps admit %b
that previously they would have stalked and preyed %b
on unlings as the banya had with them today.
%p
They took just long enough to hug and speak %b
of what had happened.  Phole and Carne had tracked %b
the unlings, but that people had sent smoke %b
by burning swaths of prairie, doubling back %b
with their wagons.  Then the grass-smoke turned to fog, %b
and each direction led them to the woods %b
where trees would point and whisper, where they fought %b
a strange confusion, shaking it for good %b
when the banya fought their brothers, and they understood.
%p
The fog had clarified, but not the context, %b
the reason why their brothers had come north %b
to find them.  Weyg could see they were perplexed. %b
He explained his plan, how something had brought forth %b
a ruse as Armin's ghost.  Now Rhone broke in %b
and told them of the slaughter he'd survived %b
by Floridel alone.  The fairy queen %b
had transformed him into a fox; his words were alive %b
with sounds of what he'd been, now buried deep inside.
%p
A rumble as Carne stood and slowly spoke: %b
"This plan of yours is good.  I'll follow you." %b
And Phole, who said so little, finally broke %b
his silence.  "So will I."  The brothers knew %b
survival had the slimmest odds.  The lake %b
was full of black things and their open mouths %b
would try to trick them.  Should they slip and make %b
just one mistake, the four of them would drown %b
and join the dead, their bloated bodies never found.
%p
Each brother now stood up.  They'd had their rest. %b
They bound their wounds with switchgrass, tied them tight %b
before planting a stick to make a studied guess %b
where north was, based on shadows.  They were right. %b
As days went by, they heard a kind of drone %b
grow louder as the wildlife seemed to melt %b
away.  And on the sixth day, they were shown %b
the lake that beckons black-and-blue, and felt %b
the voices surge towards them like an endless swell.
%p
Without a single fear, Phole leapt in first. %b
The one who talked with spirits never heard %b
his brothers close behind him.  As they burst %b
the surface, working deep, the disinterred %b
crawled through their ears, each voice a baited lure %b
to jig them off their course.  They fought the damned %b
with mental loops to catch the dead and clear %b
their voices from their minds.  A clever plan: %b
the voices petered out.  And now the brothers swam.
%p
VI
%p
Tel's sleep that night was poor.  He got an hour %b
as soon as he lay down, and then he woke %b
to Floridel in candlelight and prayer. %b
She smiled and came to bed, and as she stroked %b
him in between the legs, she took him in. %b
The two made love briefly; and afterwards, %b
as Floridel found sleep, the new-crowned king %b
found rest elusive, thinking of each sword %b
he'd cast before the court in a diminished chord.
%p
The candle burned down to a stub, then out, %b
and in that closed off room, between the dark %b
and dawn, he entertained the fears and doubts %b
that ate him like a cancer.  In his heart, %b
he knew he should have killed them.  Floridel %b
was not a warrior-queen, her spirit good %b
and kind, the kind of person meant to dwell %b
within green pastures, or beneath, in books %b
she'd found a way to harness like a shepherd's crook.
%p
He didn't even notice as she woke. %b
As Tel sat brooding, Floridel, unheard, %b
stepped out of bed and found a waiting robe %b
whose greens were overlaid with golden birds %b
that shimmered in the light.  They seemed to move %b
with her, and as she touched her husband's neck %b
they startled, settling only when he stood %b
and smiled.  He'd always say she had a knack %b
for putting him at ease and helping bring him back.
%p
"You did the right thing."  Floridel was firm. %b
There was steel in her voice: she knew that he'd been torn %b
between mercy and expectations.  Kings must learn %b
to act decisively or face the scorn %b
of subjects, lords, and scribes.  The epithets %b
applied will hold past death: "the Peacemaker", %b
"the Avenger"; "the Unready".  She would not forget %b
her ask of him, and how he had concurred. %b
He held the sword, and in the end, he'd chosen her.
%p
Tel's smile was full of sadness.  "I'm not sure. %b
Those nobles who we exiled now will walk %b
the upper lands as peddlars.  Who will hear %b
their anger as they travel through and hawk %b 
cheap glamour and illusion?  Enemies %b
in unlings and in giants - convince them %b
to swallow up the past, and enmity %b
on both sides can be weaponized to become %b
a way in which the precious balance can be swung."
%p
A knock now interrupted them.  A page %b
stood quietly, and as Tel nodded, spoke %b
his message.  "King, your comitatus waits %b
inside the planning room.  They would provoke %b
a battle on the heels of your success - %b
they'd like to have your blessing."  The boy was still %b
and ashen as he saw the queen.  Her neck %b
was open; though she smiled, there was a chill, %b
as if a spirit tapping at the windowsill.
%p
A second passed.  The page-boy caught his stare %b
and set it down respectfully, his fear %b
palpable - but Floridel was kind, and spared %b
the page.  She quickly tied a scarf to steer %b
attention from her neck, and spoke.  "My king %b
and I have yet to eat.  Please tell the lords %b
the king will eat with them, and if they'd bring %b
me something small, my hunger would be cured - %b
whatever bits of bread or meat they can afford."
%p
The tension gone, the king left with the boy, %b
and Floridel sat down to read.  She'd found %b
some texts deep down in Calasim employed %b
a curious form of kennings; that they wound %b
elusive truths in metaphors that snaked %b
in hyphenated lines across the page. %b
Her word-well running dry, she couldn't shake %b
the sense that there were meanings to be made, %b
encodings from some long-forgotten royal age.
%p
A servant came and laid out bread and cheese, %b
some spiced and watered wine.  Then Floridel %b
continued with the work.  She tried to tease %b
out the underlying referant, repel %b
the layers of abstraction, light the word %b
that no one wrote.  Two hours passed.  As she slaked %b
her thirst with wine, the girl felt something lure %b
her focus to a kenning: "mouth-swell"; lake; %b
Caldera, place of souls.  Now she was wide awake.
%p
Another kenning: revenant-awake. %b
The call to ghostly things a feint, a ruse, %b
designed to call up spirits that would shake %b
her thoughts, distractions conjured so she'd lose %b
essential details.  Revenant: return. %b
Return, not as the dead, but with new sight? %b
Awake as not-asleep?  She couldn't learn %b
the linking point, this term a clever sleight %b
connected to the last when held up to the light.
%p
As Floridel sat deep in thought, the king %b
met with his waiting lords, who'd spread a map %b
along a serving table.  Pouring drinks %b
for every man, Tel spoke.  "Last night I had %b
a wretched sleep.  Like you, I'm wondering %b
how this plays out.  Two dozen men are gone %b
forever to the uplands.  Treason brings %b
a tray of bitter fruit; it also spawns %b
an opportunity as now we must move on."
%p
"I'll not have retribution against those %b
exiles' kinfolk - they'll keep their names and rights. %b
I want to laud the common men who chose %b
to tell their families that they'd reunite %b
within the world beyond, who took up spears %b
despite the odds. I'll name six men as lords, %b
the rest receiving rings. So pick your peers, %b
and have the smiths take bullion from our hoard: %b
I say that bravery should not be its own reward."
%p
"For all the rest of you, I'll order torques %b
of braided gold, to signify both rank %b
and courage.  Let there be esprit de corps! %b
We caught the giants, split their rear and flank, %b
and then, despite our differences in size, %b
we devastated them.  So I assume %b
you called me here to plan, to authorize %b
an action.  I agree - let's carve out room %b
for peace by any means.  Let's hit them hard and soon."
%p
Pinned down with long, thin knives, the leather map %b
laid out geography.  Tel knew it well - %b
his father'd had it made.  When laid out flat %b
it showed the upper lands.  That skin could tell %b
the story of how the former king made peace, %b
encircling so many giant-kin %b
his actions seemed incredulous.  He released %b
the giants with the promise they'd attend %b
to peace with fairy-kind, a truce his son would end.
%p
He thought about that deer, and as he stood, %b
his courtiers laid out counters in neat stacks, %b
with gold for fairy folk, the giants wood, %b
and unlings marked with stone.  As Tel unpacked %b
both numbers and positions, he thought back %b
to how his shot had sailed the windless day, %b
improbably, until the head and haft %b
embedded inside Choros; Tel could say %b
he heard it when his father's life work slipped away.
%p
Appropriately, the stack at Farstead loomed %b
as Cithriel's was heaped just half as high, %b
the estimates uncertain, but the room %b
was confident enough; they wouldn't try %b
a frontal thrust, not if they were alone. %b
Some scattered smaller stacks: there were some fae %b
who left so long ago it wasn't known %b
just how they saw themselves, or if they'd strayed %b
so far that now they fell outside the kingdom's sway.
%p
The former king's advisor, Alcius, %b
could see the royal eye was flickering %b
from pile to pile, attempting now to suss %b
their odds from oak and elm; and lingering %b
on tiny florins, camps of fairy folk %b
that might be gone, or halls.  There was a gap %b
within that sparse encoding.  Tel now broke %b
the silence, met their gazes, and then rapped %b
a single piece of silver by their golden stack.
%p
"The wildcard in all this," he said, "is them: %b
the exiles scattered to the upper lands, %b
a scant two dozen, though our luck depends %b
in no small part on how they see our plans. %b
If you would call me here so eagerly, %b
I'm sure that they'll anticipate as much %b
and act accordingly.  If we can see %b
the possibilities, then we can judge %b
the outcome that's most probable, and plan for such."
%p
At this, the floor was passed to Alcius, %b
most senior of the royal retinue. %b
His voice was just a whisper, like the rustle %b
of wind through long grass, but the room well knew %b
what wars he'd wintered - past and present kings %b
had turned to him for guidance, and they'd found %b
a startling steadiness, one colouring %b
so many key decisions that around %b
the court, they spoke of how he helped to steer the crown.
%p
"Advantage is a quick and slender thing. %b
We stand here thinking fortune's shown its hand, %b
but what we all knew yesterday begins %b
to fall apart at sunrise.  Knowledge hangs %b
its hat on stasis: as the giant boy %b
escaped the knife-blade, as the exiles go %b
to Farstead or to fairy halls, they'll enjoy %b
a chance to own the narrative, and sow %b
deceits whose seeds will root and reach the lands below."
%p
Now Alcius had turned to look at Tel. %b
"I do not question mercy.  Let us give %b
our seven fastest riders time to tell %b
the truth, and give them half a chance to bridge %b
the distance to the nearest camp.  Our fate %b
is not entirely what the exiles say, %b
or if, but all the variables we create. %b
Reduce potential outcomes, and display %b
a mastery of all that would be in your way."
%p
Tel stroked his chin.  "You're right.  The exiles form %b
a threat both as a group and when apart - %b
if we hunt for them, they'll scatter and reform %b
as if a flock of blackbirds.  Let them hurt %b
for space and opportunity.  I'll send %b
the riders that you ask, and I'll send more %b
to ride them down directly.  Let them fend %b
us off with empty arms, and answer for %b
their treacheries, or vanish from this growing war."
%p
He took a drink of wine.  "And as they ride, %b
we'll send a group to skirmish.  Mobile too, %b
for though the giants run with massive strides, %b
they can't outrun a courser.  Let them view %b
each evening with suspicion; let them find %b
the darkness full of spears, and feel the wind %b
where it is not.  We'll come at them behind %b
a screen of glamour, slough our second skins, %b
and strike before the circumstances settle in."
%p
"I want to keep them harried, have them bleed %b
away their forces, feel each moment pass %b
and feel the days grow longer.  Let us seize %b
initiative and hit them hard en masse, %b
each able-bodied man, each distant hall %b
contributing together as a sword %b
against the monsters.  Savagery must fall, %b
and payment will be made for what they've stirred. %b
I swear to you we fae shall have the final word."
%p
Agreement in the room, and Alcius %b
received a nod from Tel expressing thanks. %b
The plan was sound.  The time had come to stress %b
their fastest horses.  Food was brought, and drinks %b
refilled.  They then decided Tel would lead %b
the force against the giants, Alcius %b
against the exiles.  Then they'd surely see %b
how well they'd learned from yesterday, and cast %b
the dice to see if what they thought had come to pass.
%p
His cup now emptied, Tel went to his room %b
to meet with Floridel.  Her focus set %b
upon her books, she didn't hear him come %b
and stand behind her as she tried to assess %b
the meaning in that kenning.  Revenant - %b
awake - she felt his presence, turned to see %b
his grim-set face.  He wanted her consent. %b
She moved in close to hold him, then to plea %b
for all the things a soldier cannot guarantee.
%p
"I know that I will always be the girl %b
who met you in the uplands.  Queen or not, %b
I'd follow you forever, 'til the world %b
fell out from under us.  And now I'm caught %b
like every soldier's wife.  We die and die %b
again as word arrives: the days are thieves %b
who pluck the obols deftly from our eyes. %b
The dead are blessed - they never have to see %b
that grief is an uncountable infinity."
%p
He kissed her as she stopped, and as she tried %b
to find the words; and as she failed, he kissed %b
her as she fumbled, as she put aside %b
the things she had to say.  She took his wrist %b
and placed his hand against her heart; she wrote %b
his name against her chest, moved closer, tied %b
the ribbon from her hair around his throat. %b
She kissed him and refused to close her eyes, %b
to hold this final memory if he should die.
%p
And once he left, she wept.  Her watered wine %b
was thin, the spices cloying; as she drank, %b
her thoughts were to the days ahead.  She'd bind %b
the nights alone with books.  She'd sit and think %b
on kennings, and the way their meanings taunt %b
inspection.  Down in Calasim, she'd stuff %b
her mind-hoard as the hours dwindled on, %b
as absence formed an answer, and she'd snuffed %b
the riddle casting shadows out beyond the dusk.
%p
She found her warmest cloak, and then she left %b
to find some peace within the undertow %b
of Calasim, the sunless sea.  Content %b
to let the winding stacks take her below %b
the fairy hall, to something older still, %b
she lost herself in language as she passed %b
the ancient shelves.  Each clutch of books would fill %b
a year for many scribes; their sum amassed %b
a monument that hinted at a distant past.
%p
For twenty minutes, Floridel went down %b
a maze of corridors beneath the hall. %b
The passages grew small, the air around %b
her thinner, and the chill of it recalled %b
the nights she'd spent out on the moors, her flock %b
a ring around her.  Suddenly, the door. %b
She felt its driftwood planks within the rock. %b
Each time she came, it shifted, speaking for %b
the magics of the faceless folk who came before.
%p
The door knew her intention, swinging out %b
to bare a suffocating gloom.  With fire %b
forbidden, visitors were forced to light %b
their way by different means.  So standing by %b
that murky darkness, Floridel now spoke %b
a single word, and were-light fluttered up %b
to land in hanging braziers, where it broke %b
the blackness, dim as distant star-light plucked %b
from northern skies, and lit her way from high above.
%p
She entered in, the creaking door behind %b
her swinging shut, and as the menfolk made %b
their way to war again, she used the time %b
to find a lonely carrel.  On her way %b
she plucked out books whose covers moved and swayed %b
with scenes instead of title-text.  Some flew %b
above her gracefully, while others played %b
like fox-kits - tumbling, raucous - and she knew %b
their truths would be elusive once attended to.
%p
Beneath those braziers, neatly tucked away %b
within a too-tall carrel, Floridel %b
began to read.  And as she did, the day %b
passed quickly.  High above, the stones would tell %b
of preparations, war-plans.  Tel would seal %b
his seven notes, those riders going light %b
to reach the upfolk quickly and appeal %b
for aid.  No mail, no spears, not even knives; %b
unarmed, they formed the hinge on which they'd hang their lives.
%p
VII
%p
The brothers' lungs were screaming.  In the dark %b
water, directions were uncertain; down %b
felt like up, dissociation coming hard %b
in the precious time before they'd choke and drown. %b
With Phole in front, the giants formed a chain %b
and trusted in the man ahead.  They swam %b
until they hit the lakebed, and the pain %b
became unbearable.  And in that span, %b
the mud became a mass of bony, grasping hands.
%p
Accepting this, they stood and felt the hands %b
pull them down, and as the mud became alive, %b
as it swallowed them, they couldn't understand %b
how far they'd come, or if they'd ever find %b
the upper lands again.  They felt their hair %b
pulled under, too.  They couldn't help themselves - %b
they'd held their breaths too long and needed air, %b
so they breathed.  The brothers sucked in mud and silt, %b
felt hands reach down their throats; the four could tell %b
an end had come inside this black and watery cell. 
%p
Excruciating pain.  As fingers felt %b
inside their mouths, they hooked the gums and teeth, %b
a mess of mud and blood.  The hands now held %b
their tongues in place.  No matter - who could breathe %b
as all those little digits pried and tapped %b
against the palate, hoping for a way %b
to crawl inside the brainpan?  With each stab, %b
the brothers felt the little fingers play %b
like animals who pick apart their helpless prey.
%p
The blackness closing in.  A pressure, tight %b
against the skin.  A tension at the eyes. %b
The feel of fingers.  Lungs on fire - the time %b
to swim back up had passed.  They slipped outside %b
themselves - dissociating from their deaths, %b
their spirits pulled away, and the bodies closed %b
their eyes, as if to sleep there in those depths. %b
A thousand hands now held them and disposed %b
of what they were, the fingers clawing, unopposed -
%p
Wake.
%p
Alive, at least?  The four of them stood up, %b
mud-caked, silt-skinned.  Adjusting to the dark, %b
they blessed the solid ground, and felt a tug %b
inside.  The spirit world allowed no charts, %b
no maps, the landscape dim and briefly lit %b
by sparks that rose and vanished.  Little souls %b
crawled mouthless by their feet, a dozen legs %b
and mortal faces twisting in the cold; %b
they'd scurry there forever, never growing old.
%p
"The rivers."  It was Weyg who finally spoke, %b
and gestured out in front of them, the land %b
criss-crossed by water-ways that turned and broke %b
around them, black-watered, whose boundaries fanned %b
unnaturally; the look of upper streams, %b
formed out of rain or snowpack; but, it's said, %b
these currents brought arrivals, quick as bream, %b
unblinking, open-mouthed, that swam ahead %b
and formed a narrow network of the newly dead.
%p
"We must not touch the water," murmured Phole. %b
"To do so is to mark ourselves as here, %b
belonging to this world, and to withhold %b
the barest chance of leaving.  If you fear %b
this place, do not.  The lakebed's mud and silt %b
still cling to us, and while they do, we're safe, %b
untouchable as yet."  The brothers felt %b
their fear give way, as if a sudden weight %b
were lifted as they stood there in that darkened place.
%p
So Phole stepped forward.  Underneath his feet %b
the ground shimmered with tempered light, the way %b
unclear and illuminated.  As they waited, %b
the light dimmed; as they walked, it slowly played %b
in patterns, planar figures in the dark %b
whose boundaries met rivers, lit the dead %b
beneath the water, helping to impart %b
the barest glint of order, and to send %b
them through shadowlands whose name is never said.
%p
They walked around the rivers, as they found %b
each terminus fell somewhere down below, %b
beneath the earth, like waterfalls, those mouths %b
agape and vanishing.  They'd never know %b
just where the pale and watchful corpse-fish went, %b
the basins of that place beyond all ken. %b
The ground-light followed them, and as they spent %b
their hours in silence, let them comprehend %b
the structure of the nexus between life and end.
%p
They walked until they felt their legs should ache, %b
or they should thirst; those feelings never came, %b
the blacklands taking all of it, the place %b
unworldly, so to speak of it, to frame %b
their experience impossible, except %b
for this: they didn't want for anything, %b
existing just as drifters.  As they kept %b
their pace, each one of them could taste a tang, %b
a sense they'd made it deeper through those distant lands.
%p
The feel of something underneath the feet - %b
a bit like grass or flowers, inky-black, %b
dissolving underfoot to melt and meet %b
again in front of them, as if a mask %b
the landscape gave itself.  But as they went, %b
it lightened, flora firmer to the touch %b
so that they understood they'd finally left %b
the rivers of the dead, whose silent rush %b
of cold, clear water culled the spirits from above.
%p
Above all else, the quiet was what ate %b
the four of them.  The absence of a thing %b
is powerful, and just as sound creates %b
impressions in the ear, so silence sings %b
behind the brain.  The mind will colour in %b
the gaps.  They heard their mother, passed last year. %b
The banya, growling past the dark.  And when %b
they reached where each was coming from, or near, %b
they found themselves alone, the voices disappeared.
%p
Beneath their feet, the light was radiant, %b
though strange, directional; it didn't light %b
the way they'd came, but made a gradient %b
toward a place that fell outside their sight %b
and senses, somewhere distant, but which they %b
approached so gradually they didn't think %b
they'd ever reach it, something that would stay %b
beyond their grasp, mercurial and quick, %b
until the smell of flowers hit them, sweet and thick.
%p
The scent was keenly felt, for though they knew %b
something had changed, they felt a pressure shift, %b
as if their nerves had come apart and grew %b
into a field of wildflowers, set adrift %b
to greet them at a halfway point.  The land %b
was changing quickly.  As the brothers bent %b
their path to meet the light, they felt their hands %b
brush grass and goldenrod, whose stalks and stems %b
announced that their descent had finally met its end.
%p
An endless field.  The four had learned the myths %b
the ancient peoples kept, which held the soul %b
was prised off from the body after death. %b
Our skin's impermanent - it makes a fold %b
of paper whose expansion forms a plane %b
that touches ours.  We see it in the way %b
our lover scratches at the windowpane %b
despite being dead a week, or in the grey %b
periphery, that face we can't explain away.
%p
Within the tallgrass, each could feel the air %b
grow heavier with scent - the obvious %b
pollen, so sweet and thick, but also layers %b
of something else the four could feel, resisting %b
explanation, something not this world, a depth %b
they each perceived as time, as if all things %b
that passed before were present, finding rest %b
around them as the wildflowers bent to bring %b
their colourful eruption of unending spring.
%p
And walking there, they passed a few dim shades %b
asleep beneath an elm that towered up, %b
doling the morning sunlight through its swaying %b
leaves.  And beside the sleepers, empty cups %b
of wine, the bottles strewn about.  This life, %b
this second life, a chance for those who come %b
beyond the black to see we're all alike, %b
our differences constructed, and we're one %b
when we lay our griefs to rest beneath the endless sun.
%p
As they passed that group, the bodies turned to smoke, %b
to wood-smoke, as if the tall and sheltering elm %b
released them to the summer air as notes %b
of violet, coneflower, aster, briefly held %b
among the clouds of insect life that buzzed %b
about them.  Is this our lot?  To briefly be %b
but traces on the wind, our presence sussed %b
in meadowlands and on the open leas, %b
detected in the motion of a gentle breeze.
%p
Against the backdrop of the underworld, %b
the sense that all of this was best, more real %b
than anything they'd lived.  The brothers had pulled %b
the world apart to find this place, to feel %b
the sussuring of tallgrass in a field %b
grown thick with flowers, and understand that this %b
was something like a garland that revealed %b
a judgement on our lives: the good will sit %b
in sunlight, blessed by grace and this eternal bliss.
%p
Just how long did they stay there?  Time will pass %b
in different ways, the circumstances dictating %b
the how and why; or not at all, for past %b
the cold, black water, light cannot escape, %b
and time is slowed forever.  Different rules %b
for different times: we see it when we watch %b
a dying parent's breathing snag and pull %b
an hour apart, and show the ugly cost %b
of how the unsaid blossoms into all we've got.
%p
But as they walked, a flock of blackbirds found %b
an open patch of field, and landed there %b
to watch the brothers closely.  They gathered around %b
a single, smaller bird; they stopped and stared %b
at the brothers, leaping up to flap and writhe %b
as one until they formed a shifting blur %b
of black around a gleaming, golden eye, %b
the figure taking shape, its body birds %b
and air, a shade they hadn't seen in many years.
%p
They hadn't seen their father in so long, %b
they couldn't see the likeness in the face %b
whose longing was a blackbird's eye.  The strong %b
jawline, the way it set his stare: they placed %b
him slowly, till the recognition turned %b
to laughter, and each of them rushed in to speak %b
the things they'd never said, the love that burned %b
as tiny coals that torched their disbelief %b
at finding him transfigured on this grassy heath.
%p
But as the four of them approached, the birds %b
scattered and broke apart; reformed; they held %b
away from them the one they each most yearned %b
to touch, and in vain: their clumsy grabs repelled %b
the spirit's form, their father full of wings. %b
Away, away, away - they finally saw %b
their absence as unending.  They could never bring %b
conclusion, here or elsewhere; if they sought %b
finality, that little bird could not be caught.
%p
Reforming in a patch of flowers, the shade %b
reached down and plucked the primrose growing there, %b
then found the wind.  The brothers stopped.  It made %b
its way to each of them, and touched their hair %b
with fingers full of flowers.  The shade stepped back. %b
It was Phole who first felt blossoms woven through %b
his lake-wet braids.  And as they each relaxed, %b
as each was touched by him, the brothers knew %b
he'd tell them one last time just what they'd have to do.
%p
Their father turned to Phole, who in his cloak %b
stained grey-black by the lake looked half a shade %b
himself.  The spirit's voice was steel.  "Evoke %b
your magics for me.  Show me how you made %b
the fire you summoned when you were a child." %b
So Phole relaxed.  He spoke the words, and named %b
those childhood magics.  Nothing came.  He tried %b
again, but it was as if his mind went lame, %b
preventing him from conjuring a simple flame.
%p
"These fields admit no magic, only truth," %b
their father said.  "Your fires will not start. %b
The Nine are deaf.  They had their choice, and took %b
the living world, that place of earth and stars %b
that twinkles like a bauble.  Here the wind %b
obeys the physical, the hidden rules %b
that fix the sun at noon, and not the whim %b
of wizards.  Touch your hair.  The flowers, too. %b
And understand the way you'll play the fae for fools."
%p
"With primrose in your hair, a part of you %b
will dwell beyond the rivers where the dead %b
are ferried to these fields.  You'll see the truth %b
behind deceit, the false fall back; instead %b
of actors, each of you will watch the stage, %b
the scripted scenes, the changes.  Let the real %b
triumph, so that with your victory, a page %b
turns.  A peace by other means, your victory sealed %b
through open slaughter as the fae are made to kneel."
%p
And then, without a word, he pulled a knife %b
from within his body's haze.  He spoke their names %b
with what they hoped was love, the way at night %b
he bade each son to sleep.  This was the same. %b
They couldn't move, just watch as each in turn %b
took the blade inside the ear, and then the brain: %b
a sudden burst of light.  The brothers learned %b
a second time to die; they felt the pain %b
on waking as they found their father gone again.
%p
VIII
%p
In Cithriel, the preparations started %b
to take shape: the horses groomed and fed, %b
provisions packed, the swords and spears sharpened. %b
The riders who would find the outposts spread %b
apart - and quickly.  Travelling light, they left %b
before the King and Alcius met up %b
with their chosen groups, ran down the plans, addressed %b
concerns, and formed the spearhead of a thrust %b
into the giants' bodies, and collapse the lungs.
%p
Green-cloaked, bay-horsed, the scouts were built for stealth: %b
they planned to take the broken woodland routes, %b
eschewing open roads.  The fae knew well %b
that giants, owing to their size, would use %b
the least constraining option.  So they sent %b
their scouts on other ways, through stands of elm %b
and ash, on rocky ground that never lent %b
a hint of hoofprints.  Soon their scouts would tell %b
their war-plans to the fae outside the citadel.
%p
So as they left, the other parties formed %b
down in the armory.  Tel would have the pick %b
of weapons for his war-band as they'd storm %b
the giants first, his group to ride out quick %b
and strong.  They armoured up.  Grabbed bows, the plan %b
to cut through uplands, where their maps and charts %b
were clear, till their formation made a lance, %b
a long-leafed spear.  Each man would play his part %b
to end the war before it had a chance to start.
%p
A pair of quivers each, and each man took %b
as many arrows as could fit the case, %b
the plumage gray and white, for as they cooked %b
up goose and swan, they found those feathers, laid %b
in little piles around the kitchen, made %b
excellent fletchings. Good length, good weight; they brought %b
a true trajectory until they swayed %b
at the top of the arc, and plunged down to the spot %b
the archer'd aimed, released, and finally placed the shot.
%p
Then Alcius' group, a clutch of men %b
to ride down all the exiles that they found %b
hugging the roadside.  Riding hard, they'd bend %b
to cut the exiles down, and circle round %b
to chase down any runners.  Hardly fair, %b
but war's about advantages.  Their gloating %b
had sealed their fate; as Floridel appeared %b
to bleed away, they mocked her open throat, %b
and signed their bloody warrants with a single stroke.
%p
A few of them took knives and bows, their aim %b
immaculate even on saddleback, %b
while others in the group were those whose names %b
had grown in estimation in the black %b
moment the queen had seemed to die, who held %b
when others didn't, common folk whose rank %b
was elevated afterwards - they helped %b
their queen, and now their cup was filled.  They drank, %b
and took the exiles' former swords with Tel's own thanks.
%p
As they oiled the blades, some runners came with scraps %b
of heavy paper, rolled up, and placed in tubes %b
to foil the weather - these were simple maps %b
showing geography but also had included %b
beside each hamlet, a mark, and on the back, %b
a list of names by each, the families they %b
remembered in each town.  They all had racked %b
their brains for any trace of those who made %b
the choice to strike out on their own and fall away.
%p
Amidst the preparations, Tel now spoke: %b
"I've asked so much of you.  I'll ask again, %b
and offer up my gratitude.  Please know %b
that history's got its holes.  It lets through names, %b
but every one of you has got a page %b
that's partially done, and ink to write the rest. %b
We'll form a spear and usher in an age %b
of peace through overwhelming force, and dressed %b
in shining mail, we'll drive that pilum through their chest."
%p
At this, the captains led their soldiers out %b
to the staging hall, to double-check their packs %b
and food before they exited the mounds %b
that met the open air and brought them back %b
to the world above.  Each man was given wine %b
and water, packs of cheese and heavy bread, %b
and rum to steady them, for down the lines %b
of petty soldiers one could feel the dread %b
that some amount of them would feed the earth instead.
%p
The king conferred with Alcius up front, %b
double-checking the movements and the routes, %b
till the councillor paused.  "Forgive me if I'm blunt - %b
this plan is bold, its goals so absolute %b
you've gathered nearly every man and youth %b
who can hold a trembling spear.  We're better served %b
by keeping back a company or two, %b
good soldiers and good leaders, to conserve %b
our forces should our fortunes take a sudden turn."
%p
But Tel would not be checked.  "I see your point, %b
but opportunities like this are rare - %b
a chance for total victory presents %b
itself, and with it comes the chance to spur %b
surrender.  And I'll take it.  Let them say %b
I pressed my advantages, and let them write %b
of how I did it, starting with the way %b
I brought out every sword we had to fight, %b
a grey-green storm front surging on a summer night."
%p
"So be it."  Tel could tell the chancellor's tone %b
was tinged with disappointment, but the man went %b
about his business briskly.  Having told %b
the king the flaws he saw, Alcius spent %b
a few more minutes going down the line, %b
inspecting packs, provisions, making sure %b
no soldier would go hungry, genuine %b
compassion from the quiet man who served %b
both king and common folk far more than they deserved.
%p
The companies moved out, each by the plan %b
set out by masters in their comfortable room, %b
where lives were wood and gold, and would depend %b
on the correctness of their placement, on assumed %b
alliances with those whose fealty died %b
the day they left the hall, and made their way %b
to rocky meadows, where the far-off sky %b
looked down indifferently.  The whole crusade %b
now hinged on help from those who'd chosen not to stay.
%p
In Cithriel, the walls of solid rock %b
were carved out by the fae, or found, perhaps, %b
later by them - but as the troops now walked %b
in loose formations to the craggy gaps %b
that narrowed into stairways up above, %b
the sound was inperceptible below. %b
But in the were-light, Floridel looked up, %b
the darkness pulsing regular and slow. %b
She'd read but one slim book.  She still had miles to go.
%p
The library had no seasons, only night. %b
She fell asleep, then woke and read again %b
until she was hungry.  Ate some nuts, a bite %b
of rindy cheese.  A drink of water set %b
her right again, until the letters flew %b
off the page quite literally.  They hung %b
on the stale air; as pages turned, they blew %b
away, then fluttered back, proof that she'd won %b
so little and her studies there had just begun.
%p
And as she worked, a happy little book, %b
a book that brimmed with princesses and knights %b
jumped off the shelf - regarded her - it took %b
her measure and then fluttered up, alight %b
with curiosity.  She laughed; its lift %b
in response was like a closed-eyed smile.  She bent %b
a little stream of breath, and as it left %b
her lips, her laughter bubbled up and sent %b
the volume down towards her in a slow descent.
%p
It waited while she studied.  As she read, %b
it scuttled on its covers like a crab %b
to sneak outside and bring her scraps of bread, %b
the pages made translucent by a pat %b
of cold and fresh-cut butter.  Floridel %b
ate automatically.  She barely tasted %b
the fairy food - she'd fallen down a well %b
whose walls were books, and acted to encase %b
the hermit-queen so quietly within that place.
%p
For days, she'd grasp at nothing, and return %b
a book or two beside the dusty shelves %b
where, with a start, some magic force would spur %b
them into action, leaping up, impelled %b
by a long-dead wizard's ordinary spell %b
to organize the stacks.  She'd go get more, %b
then bring them back, so that when Floridel %b
dozed off then woke, her backlog underscored %b
how little she had read, and how much she had in store.
%p
After a week, her hair a mess, her eyes %b
gone red with lack of sleep, the bleary queen %b
gave up.  Her little book-friend had supplied %b
such ample food and drink that it demeaned %b
the efforts of that hopeful thing, but still, %b
she stood.  Stretched out her back.  As she prepared %b
to find her way back out, she felt a chill, %b
a shift in temperature she couldn't square %b
with what till then had been the stale and dusty air.
%p
Floridel stood up.  The bookling scuttled off %b
beneath the stacks, and as she walked, she pulled %b
her cloak closer.  Her skin tingled, gone taut %b
with cold, and now the lingering dark obscured %b
the braziers' hazy light.  It seemed to pulse; %b
it had a palpability, a sheen %b
that, oil-thick, appeared to be the end result %b
of something living.  And as she walked, it seemed %b
to move with her, and hold her somewhere in between.
%p
Between the dark and were-light, shivering %b
beneath her cloak, the girl-queen made her way %b
down further into winding Calasim - %b
and as she went, the fetid air became %b
gauzy-grey, her breathing thin and strained %b
as she made her way down deeper, where the poor %b
oxygen grew worse.  She took a breath.  Again. %b
And as the bookshelves ended, she felt more %b
than breathlessness against the hard and murky floor. 
%p
Her foot brushed up against a levered lid %b
that lay against the ground, where, locked in place, %b
it seemed the source of all this cold, and hid %b
whatever down below required a plate %b
of steel to hold it back.  The whispered cold %b
called to her, and Floridel now felt it slip %b
around her neck and pull her down, a hold %b
remembered from the days her crook would shift %b
a sheep's attention elsewhere with a little lift.
%p
Rusted, the lever didn't want to move %b
no matter how she tried, till with a grunt %b
and curse she threw the thing.  She had assumed %b
the lid would pop right up, but no - a thud %b
somewhere in the deep distance.  And then the trick. %b
A distant sound like hoofbeats made on stone, %b
approaching as a canter.  Then three clicks: %b
the lid sprang up and Floridel was shown %b
a ladder to a darkness that would eat its own.
%p
She closed her eyes, and took a drawn-out breath %b
before opening them again, and stepping in %b
toward the ladder's steps, which broke the depths %b
of a lightless sea that roiled despite the wind %b
that wasn't there.  The rungs were bitterly cold, %b
but the passage down was narrow, so she paused %b
periodically, and let the bedrock hold %b
her as she warmed her hands.  Against the wall, %b
she rubbed her hands and prayed she wouldn't slip and fall.
%p
Despite her efforts, Floridel went numb %b
quickly: her hands grew stiff, and as she moved %b
down the steps, what first was cold would then become %b
unbearable.  Her eyes grew weak.  Confused, %b
and feeling sleepy, something in her mind %b
pushed back against the hypothermia %b
she knew was setting in, and so she timed %b
her motions carefully, so that in the %b
rhythms of her steps she found euphoria.
%p
"Right foot!  Left foot!  Now the hands!"  Her song, %b
made up of instructions interspersed with nonce %b
words, echoed down the shaft, and helped prolong %b
her consciousness, until a cold response %b
began to echo back:  "O little bird %b
above me - the pattering of your feet - I hear %b
your singing wondering - could we be stirred %b
to meet?"  She stopped.  Her mind grew very clear. %b
The cold drew back, the voice lodged in her inner ear.
%p
At once, her feet met ground.  She said the words %b
to summon light, but something dampened it, %b
as if a hand reached down her throat and cleared %b
her speech, as if this place would not admit %b
those powers that could alter it.  She stopped %b
and the darkness lifted, barely.  She could see %b
the hazy outlines of the walls, the rock %b
worn smooth, and as she touched it, she could feel %b
it wasn't rock at all, but made from solid steel.
%p
What kind of place was this, that ringed the earth %b
with iron, the hatch back up topped with a plate %b
a full twelve inches thick?  Once, she had heard %b
the fair folk couldn't stand the stuff, their hatred %b
a thing of upworld folklore, but she knew %b
they used it and its alloys just the same %b
as everybody else.  Those stories drew %b
the rhyme of truth from somewhere, and their claim %b
from something lurking where the monsters have no names.
%p
Floridel could feel a pull, as if her body %b
was a compass needle, drawn toward a source %b
that sang to her.  Magnetic, yes, and oddly %b
compelling.  Little tugs, its urgings terse. %b
It called to her, and that voice inside her ear %b
began again, insistent, feminine. %b
It spoke in her own voice.  It found her fears %b
and spoke to them.  It let the queen pretend %b
there wasn't something waiting at the tunnel's end.
%p
Each timid step now echoed in that drum %b
as Floridel moved forward, head a haze %b
of cold and the delerious dark, its thrum %b
so regular it set her mind ablaze %b
in anticipation of each steady beat. %b
A note.  She knew it.  Something like the pipes %b
the other shepherds played, but lower, an E %b
octaves below its range, whose pulse described %b
a melody whose meaning couldn't be transcribed.
%p
She dragged her feet, the young queen of two minds %b
that couldn't be quieted: the rational %b
screaming at her to stop, the other blind %b
to those objections - ecstatic, maniacal, %b
its urgings pressed against her spinal cord, %b
a ghost within the brain stem.  Who could say %b
how much the choice was hers, or what she heard %b
inside her ear, impelling her, the play %b
of whispers like a striking flint to light her way.
%p
That tunnel narrowed.  Shrinking on all sides, %b
it pressed against her, made her duck and shrink %b
as the ceiling knelt and floor began to rise. %b
She duck-walked and then crawled up to the brink %b
of a tiny iron door.  The whispers trilled. %b
She pulled it open, and a little light %b
expanded from the opening to fill %b
the girl with wonder, warm and soft, the sight %b
a welcome break against the subterranean night.
%p
What else was there to do but take that door %b
and put it behind her?  Floridel crawled through, %b
the ring of steel that lined the first tunnel's bore %b
now giving way to what was once a flume %b
perhaps, a narrow stream, but long dried up. %b
The whispers went external.  Taking shape %b
in sound and source, they called her as she ducked %b
through narrow, twisting passages, and craned %b
to hear them as they laughed and softly called her name.
%p
Eventually, that creekbed widened out %b
and brought her to chamber where her breath %b
hung cold - and drifted upward, seemed to sprout %b
into stalactites that pointed with all the rest %b
at this beautiful intruder, she who walked %b
so soundlessly among the scattered stones %b
that her movements seemed to place her outside thought, %b
until the voices stopped and laid her low; %b
until they left her in that waning light, alone.
%p
In the centre of the chamber, a hundred pillars %b
had formed out of the same calcites that dripped %b
from the ceiling, depositing uncountable layers %b
to form the massive structure, like a rift %b
inside the room.  She heard her name once more, %b
but vocalized this time, and real.  She paused, %b
then watched as something stirred, then moved towards %b
her from the stand of stone, a thing that called %b
in her own voice, and held her spellbound in that hall.
%p
When she saw it, she felt as if her soul was ripping %b
at the seams of her skin to try to get away %b
from what stood there, regarding her, amidst %b
the echoes of the cavern.  Her younger face %b
stared back at her.  The child said nothing.  Waited %b
for Floridel's reaction.  When none came, %b
it offered out its hand - her hand.  She braced %b
for what might come.  But nothing did, and the shame %b
of discourtesy compelled her now to do the same.
%p
Her double laughed, then Floridel.  It sounded %b
odd to her - she thought she knew her voice - %b
but it was her, she knew it, and they echoed around %b
themselves, the chamber sending back their joy %b
in staggered bursts.  They stood with outstretched hands, %b
and the absurdity made Floridel laugh again. %b
Her double took her hand, stepped back, and curtseyed. %b
She laughed again.  The two of them remained %b
deadlocked, each one deferentially %b
waiting for what they thought the other's move would be.
%p
As Floridel stepped forward, it stepped in, %b
and as they met, it turned to mist, and vanished. %b
She stopped for just a moment.  Breathed.  And when %b
she walked toward those columns, saw something hanging %b
at the corner of her vision, matching pace %b
with hers, until she saw that, once again, %b
it had taken her form: the girl who'd lacked the grace %b
to curtsey to a king.  It spoke her name. %b
She stepped out into it, and watched it fade again.
%p
Its dissipation entered in her mouth %b
and left her cold.  It numbed the roof so briefly %b
that Floridel felt nothing, till she found %b
the feeling in her brain, and then relief %b
as it faded down to nothing, like the chill %b
felt from drinking too-cold water.  She stepped out %b
toward the pillars, then between them - who had built %b
this place?  And what of it remained?  Her doubt %b
materialized, and walked beside her on their route.
%p
It bit her feet, like little jagged stones; %b
it made her stumble, and as she caught herself, %b
pushed her forward, laughing as the prone %b
girl sputtered and then lashed out.  Offered help, %b
withdrew it as she tried to take its hand; %b
and when she threw a rock in anger, turned to air, %b
curling like a question mark.  She slammed %b
the ground and caused her doubts to disappear, %b
her skin left cut and bloody, but her mind now strangely clear.
%p
In the centre of the pillars, Floridel %b
could see a simple pedestal,  alone %b
within the sea of shale.  She knew very well %b
what called to her was on it, and was shown %b
the truth at her approach: an opened book, %b
its paper pages unaffected by the damp %b
air.  She felt it fit her like a hook %b
in an eye.  It drew her in, then arched and gasped %b
at seeing what it wanted was now here at last.
%p
"Hello, my little bird."  Within her mind, %b
a voice she'd heard before appeared again. %b
"I've waited while the world cools, confined %b
within the slate, while up above, the same %b
cycles play out endlessly.  The fae %b
have never heard of me.  Their very thoughts %b
are fancies, flights, and fripperies.  They play %b
their games above the earth.  And they forgot %b
that things lie deep within the rocky world, and watch."
%p
The cavern held its breath.  A lengthy pause. %b
Floridel didn't know if she was meant to speak, %b
so didn't.  Her mind was silent.  The book was %b
clearly content to wait as well.  She broke %b
the standoff with a question: "Why'd you call %b
for me?"  She pulled her cloak round tighter; its fur %b
lining, made from ermines, felt like gauze %b
against the cold, a thin and focused river %b
whose undertow was tugs within the voice's whisper.
%p
No answer now, but shimmering, the pages %b
formed their own call, and Floridel stepped in %b
and watched the wordless scenes play out, contagious: %b
the moment she met Tel, the scene steeped in %b
mist from the moorlands, rising off the page %b
to dissipate in front of her; their marriage, %b
their implicit marriage, at the feast; the swaying %b
Choros who collapsed; and then the darkness, %b
the girls whose hanging bodies sealed the current carnage.
%p
A shift again.  The images sped up, %b
quadruple time and fragmentary, hits %b
of colour, bursts of motion that would rush %b
so quickly that she fumbled to admit %b
she knew them.  But she did: the king, his men %b
surrounded; leading one last charge, a wall %b
of giants he couldn't hope to breach; then pinned %b
down by a spear, where, revelling in his fall, %b
the giants then deliberately killed them all.
%p
Her stomach clenching, Floridel stepped back, %b
the footsteps marking dips within the shale. %b
She breathed in slowly, hissed.  The scene went black %b
and dissipated as the hazy trail %b
of light ran off the page.  And then she spoke %b
before the voice could.  "What are you?  And this %b
stagecraft - truth or fiction?  Why provoke %b
me?  I'm just one person.  How could I hope to fix %b
a growing war?  This is cruelty.  Why show me it?"
%p
The voice pushed past her misgivings, settling in %b
a cluttered corner.  "Truth or fiction?  Both. %b
I deal in probability, the thin %b
veneer that hides the fact that we all owe %b
our outcomes and our lives to sets of runs %b
that fall a certain way.  Your lover's fate %b
has not been set.  But beneath the midnight sun, %b
four bodies gasp with knowledge from the lake; %b
to save his life the dice must fall a different way."
%p
That kenning she had stumbled on, the one %b
that felt like a thousand years ago, lit up %b
with blinding clarity.  She stood there, stunned %b
for a moment, as the implications jumped %b
from her darkest worries.  Revenant-awake! %b
She kicked herself for what she hadn't learned; %b
she'd overthought it, revelling in the play %b
of possibilities, her mind alert %b
to everything but the simplest truth: the dead's return.
%p
Seeing that she grasped this now, the book %b
played out a murky picture: something swam, %b
four somethings, downward, struggling in the dark. %b
Then it faded.  "I can see the living lands, %b
but those only; what's beyond is lost to me." %b
The brothers gasping.  "But I know this much - %b
that lake is not for living men.  To be %b
within it is to be open to the touch %b
of those that swim the depths, and ask for them to judge."
%p
"With glamour and surprise, your folk should win %b
easily, but I can see the desperate king %b
cut down.  So what, then, did the giants bring %b
from the ever-sleeping lands?  Because within %b
the roiling waters, congress of the dead %b
creates a shared intelligence, not unlike %b
how early in the world, the magics bred %b
a common sense, a thought-net, casting light %b
on unseen things and working like a truer sight."
%p
Floridel, her mind made up, turned round %b
and left the way she came.  The silent book %b
said nothing, but now one last image found %b
the light behind her: an older woman, who stood %b
with a minor stoop and then, grim-faced, wandered through %b
unbroken miles of uplands under grey, %b
unyielding sky; and if the stratus knew %b
the reason for her loss, it wouldn't say - %b
Floridel, the once-was queen, alone again.
%p
IX
%p
Their consciousness returned, the brothers woke %b
along the shore: Rhone first, and as he groped %b
about himself to get his bearings, choked %b
on a little lake-water caught inside his throat. %b
He wrung his hair, and with a gentle shake %b
roused Weyg and Phole and Carne, an hour spent %b
in silence, moving only when the lake %b
began to roil, its meaning clear, and sent %b
as gusts of winds that pushed them forward as they went.
%p
The four returned into a foreign world, %b
ostensibly the same, but in that way %b
we come back to our childhood home and return %b
to something drifted, something that has strayed %b
from what it used to be: the studs the same, %b
the roof still leaking in downpours, but the essence %b
wrong, or off; for what we know and claim %b
as unchanging simply exists in many presents, %b
each one within our grasp for just a fleeting second.
%p
They couldn't shake the sense they hadn't been %b
this way before, although they had: the woods %b
wherein the Banya lived now passed them by %b
as they skirted around, unsettled, to ensure %b
a peaceful journey back.  The path they knew %b
felt distant as the day before they jumped %b
the cliff and broke black water, falling through %b
to the deathless lands, and laying bare the sum %b
of what they'd lost against the things they thought they'd won.
%p
That night, three brothers made a tidy fire %b
and said little, as if the death that passed %b
them back and forth between the worlds abhorred %b
a needless conversation, till at last %b
Carne returned and brought a broken deer %b
he'd ran exhausted off a nearby cliff. %b
They cooked it on the coals until it seared %b
a heavy black, took turns to sleep in shifts, %b
while all the while the world around them went to drift.
%p
Those dreams each turned to ash beneath the tongue. %b
All night they felt the clammy hands of the dead %b
against their skin, and when they tried to run %b
they found themselves in lake-deep mud - instead %b
of peace, the four found fingers at their ears %b
and at their eyelids.  As they woke, they drank %b
and spat.  The vivid dreaming felt like years - %b
as if their whole existence seemed to shrink, %b
collapsing to a black-eyed beast that never blinked.
%p
That morning, as they all lay in the grass %b
and relished in the feeling - open air %b
cool against their skin - they saw something pass %b
in the near distance; and rising, they saw there %b
a pair of fae within some scattered trees, %b
their arms outstretched and reaching for the sun. %b
Carne reached to grab his weapon, but Weyg seized %b
his brother's hand, and laughed when, four-as-one, %b
they realized just what their father's shade had done.
%p
But strangely, where most fae would clutch a spear %b
or wear a curving sword, these vagrant men %b
reached skyward with their empty palms to wield %b
the gusts of wind, and let their bodies bend %b
like patient trees.  The two were not a threat, %b
that much was clear: no weapons and no glamour, %b
the deathly primrose letting them forget %b
just how they'd once been taken by such drama, %b
the fair folk understanding becoming a sudden clamour.
%p
They tried to run, but giants in their stride %b
will match pace with a bison, and so Rhone %b
ran right around them; hemmed in on all sides, %b
they saw their certain death, and as they joined %b
their hands together, waiting for the pain %b
and sudden light, it never came, though seconds %b
stretched out as vectors on an endless plane %b
until the point where both could finally reckon %b
today was not the day they'd see their fathers beckon.
%p
The taller of the two was first to speak; %b
but first, he laughed, a bitter little trill %b
that trailed away.  "There's irony to see %b
your mercy when we've killed your kin, and filled %b
our lives with drinking to their empty hides - %b
cast out, we two, we wander - feel the fear %b
we lusted for in others cutting wide %b
against our future - especially now - it's clear %b
we can't even go to ground as trees and disappear."
%p
Silence now.  The brothers watched the men %b
regard them with a curiosity %b
that overrode their terror, so that when %b
Weyg approached with open hands, the other three %b
brothers on guard behind and at the sides, %b
the fair folk saw a strange and unearned peace %b
in front of them, its loping, muscled stride %b
decreasing in its tempo, till it ceased %b
and offered the conditions for their safe release.
%p
He offered out his hand; the fair folk shook. %b
"Elin," said the taller. "This is Aese." %b
Weyg introduced his brothers, and it took %b
a second now for Weyg to see they placed %b
Rhone, the two recalling Floridel, %b
her wild magics.  Aese and Elin looked %b
away, each little sniff or bark a tell %b
that what she'd raised was real, and with a hook %b
corralled it like a sheep inside her shepherd's crook.
%p
Despite a life of fawning privilege, %b
wielding high-born status as a club %b
to beat their slaves and servants, now they lived %b
at the other end, cast out, and giving up %b
their lives of violent rule to hope for mercy %b
meted out by others: as each day %b
extended to tomorrow, so their journey'd %b
continue.  Something queer was underway; %b
they hoped to steer the details as the process played.
%p
At first, there was a sense of six apart, %b
how little they spoke; but as the day went on, %b
the silence sputtered, finally cut short %b
when Rhone came back and held a jack-knifed fawn %b
for their mid-day meal.  As Aese produced wild garlic %b
from the pockets in his cloak, they skinned the game %b
then pricked the meat.  Each inch, a clove.  They stuffed it %b
till the meat was fragrant and the whole thing came %b
to roast atop a pile of stones and open flames. %b
%p
The grasslands offered little wood, but rocks %b
in abundance, so their fire was carefully fed %b
by handfuls in through gaps within the ring %b
of stones.  They threw in leaves, then made a bed %b
of woody shrubs that burnt just long enough %b
to fetch some more, until the embers kept %b
the heat sufficient for the meat above. %b
The giants turned it often, and they checked %b
the meat until the heat had crisped and crackled it.
%p
They ate in silence until Aese finally spoke. %b
Slight and short, he had a quiet voice %b
that carried through the campfire like the smoke %b
the embers lacked.  "You had an easy choice," %b
he said, and set his piece of meat aside. %b
"If it were me, I wouldn't hesitate %b
to cut your throats." He stared into Rhone's eyes - %b
he recognized the boy - and held his gaze %b
until the youngest brother couldn't concentrate.
%p
"But here we are.  Two castaways, and more %b
of us out on the roadways, making space %b
from what we used to be.  How did you four %b
see through us, anyway?  We used to place %b
our arms like branches and you'd see our skin %b
grow bark-like.  So why spare us?  Why not let %b
us bleed and gasp for air?  We had our sins. %b
We thought that we would die today.  And yet %b
you share your fire and haven't made a single threat."
%p
Between the brothers, a look was passed around %b
through the fire-light, deciding which of them would speak. %b
Carne stared across the circle; as he found %b
the paupers' looks, an ember hissed and spat. %b
It was Phole who finally spoke: "We see new things, %b
the four of us.  We see things as they are, %b
so when you stretch like trees and let the wind %b
play through your arms, the glamour comes apart, %b
a trickery that dies before it even starts."
%p
"You need us for the entrances."  Aese stared %b
down Carne, who hadn't broke his gaze, then turned %b
to Phole.  "That part is real.  The unprepared %b
could search a hundred years and miss the berm %b
or hill that marks the starting point.  And if %b
you found the opening, the traps would rain %b
down pitch or blackwater, spikes and spears to split %b
your skulls inside the darkness.  You wouldn't gain %b
ten feet before the floors would drink your blood and brains."
%p
A silence; a caesura.  He went on: %b
"To see the unling dragged out of the hall, %b
to show her that she never once belonged %b
among our folk..."  Aese trailed off, then stalled %b
in thought before continuing.  "The nobles %b
who stood with her and Tel will wish us dead; %b
their sons, too.  And our former servants, immobile %b
for the lives we made for them - they will not dread %b
the chance to stand and finally hold the blade instead."
%p
"Spare the families of our exiled group %b
and it's a deal."  As Aese looked over, Elin %b
nodded, as did Weyg.  "We'll need a troop %b
of a hundred, minimum.  I have a feeling %b
that Tel will send his skirmishers out here, %b
but many guards remain, and even serfs %b
are dangerous enough when armed with spears. %b
The six of us would barely break the dirt %b
if we tried to make our way into the fairy courts."
%p
"We'll go to Farstead," Weyg said with a nod, %b
"and get the men we need.  A hundred hurts %b
our manpower, but the chance to hit them hard %b
in their very home, to prise the place apart - %b
well, to meet you was a serendipity. %b
We'll kit you at our hall.  We have some breastplates %b
the unlings made from bronze.  They're rickety %b
but will stop a sword in close.  We'll make our fate. %b
Revenge is something both our kinds can celebrate."
%p
Weyg stood, and Rhone ran off to find a stream %b
to douse the embers.  Unsettled quiet.  Neither %b
group felt compelled to talk, or seemed %b
prepared to move past what-was-once to try %b
to figure out a way forward.  Allies %b
of the uneasiest sort.  When Rhone returned, %b
they poured the water, stirred the ash, and pried %b
the barest conversation as they turned %b
to realize their plan to make the fair folk burn.
%p
X
%p
The sound of hoofbeats; little else.  The road %b
was thin, and Alcius now led his men %b
toward a settlement their maps had told %b
existed sixty years ago.  Instead %b
of riding down the giants, now he'd search %b
for rats in buildings, hiding in the fields %b
or aspen copses.  Bitter, dirty work. %b
And easy for the exiles, too, to steal %b
away and vanish deep into the open weald.
%p
The forests of the ancient world were burned %b
for farmland, as the ground that took the ash %b
would yield for years; and once so many heard %b
the benefits, the towering woodlands passed %b
to collective memory, replaced by wheat, %b
or rye, or taro.  But the bit of weald %b
that stretched just north of Cithriel would cheat %b
the fate it should've had, and as it wheeled %b
around the grasslands, formed a kind of shield, %b
as those who hid within its heart were well concealed.
%p
They passed it on the right, the thin dirt road %b
an artificial border, a boundary line %b
that tied its blooming vein.  The forest slowed %b
as if a courser, one that kicked and whined %b
then broke formation, galloping away %b
into the north.  The road grew wider now, %b
expanding before the place their map would say %b
was a camp, but which had grown into a town %b
they hoped would stop to help the riders of the crown.
%p
The road became a main street where sod huts %b
shared space with cabins made from old growth trees %b
that had fallen in the forest, hauled on sleds %b
back into town.  A generation's peace %b
made carpenters and farmers; in the square %b
before them, broken gallows, left as proof %b
of what they'd been, and weren't.  The very air %b
was charged.  No townsfolk.  Quiet.  From the roofs %b
the west wind; underneath, the clop of nervous hooves.
%p
They ringed around the gallows, facing out %b
and waited.  Minutes passed, and then the sound %b
of a doorway slamming shut.  Each rider's mount %b
shifted expectantly.  But all that party found %b
was a woman dressed in simple clothes, her hand %b
cradling a worn and loaded sling. %b
"Your exiles came and left, and if you planned %b
to pull us into this, we'd like you to bring %b
a message from our village to your new-crowned king."
%p
The riders had drawn weapons, and she slung %b
a stone at Alcius' upright sword. %b
He dropped it, and before a single one %b
could ride her down, the woman moved towards %b
the group of them.  And then the shutters sang %b
around them, and a hundred bows and spears %b
made eyes at gaps in armour.  Now defanged, %b
the riders lowered weapons.  In the square, %b
a kind of electricity arced through the air.
%p
But she raised her hand, and, signalling a stop, %b
the weapons vanished.  Walking to the group, %b
she folded up her sling, then let it flop %b
on Alcius' sword.  "My name is Tula," %b
she said, "if you remember me.  Or not." %b
She let the nobles think.  "I cleaned your scraps %b
on feasting days.  You drank till you forgot, %b
and if I did it wrong, you'd browbeat me, or slap %b
me till I spat out blood and all your families laughed."
%p
A silence.  "Didn't think so.  Why would you %b
stoop down and learn the name of those who shared %b
your lives - facilitated them?  It just never suited %b
your kind to admit that lives were not just spared %b
or taken, but lived.  Well, this is ours.  Your crown %b
has no power here.  Your exiles left, went north %b
after presuming the assistance of our town %b
as well.  We're done with high-born feuds and scores. %b
We outnumber you.  You cannot harm us anymore."
%p
The quiet perched on rooftops as the wind %b
knocked shutters and a rusty weathervane %b
complained against its movement.  They were pinned, %b
Alcius knew; a hasty act would stain %b
the town square red.  He met her eyes, and turned %b
his horse around.  They rode back through the feel %b
of failure.  Not their mission, but it burned %b
they couldn't turn their kinfolk.  Open field. %b
They drew their swords and rode towards the sprawling weald.
%p
The advantage of the cavalry is space - %b
in movement, yes, but also vertically, %b
for fighting upward's harder.  Every trace %b
of this erased as, stopping at the trees, %b
they found the brush so dense they left a man %b
to mind the horses.  Going on their way, %b
they walked with weapons out to cut the strands %b
of hanging vines, and sometimes notch a blaze, %b
to help them find their way back through that wooded maze.
%p
Mid-day, and in the forest, already darkness %b
in bits and patches.  Little gifts of light: %b
the trees so thick, what scattered through was stark %b
against the uneven rocks; and if pressed, the sight %b
was the flicker of a campfire, or perhaps the glimpse %b
your grandfather gives as he tries to place your face, %b
and for a moment, does.  Each movement linked %b
to every other, and within that space, %b
each object bits of shadow looking for its place.
%p
They pushed for hours, what they thought what north %b
but faintly drifted, seeking out the trace %b
of the exiles in the woodlands.  Each had torn %b
off strips of blankets, padding to erase %b
the clinking of their packs and swords.  They moved %b
like foxes through the fern-lands, and as they they stirred %b
the waist-high fronds, it seemed their little group %b
became like boats, unseen and still unheard, %b
their only trace the sudden leap and flight of birds.
%p
The afternoon was fading as the sun %b
arced westward as if loaded in a sling %b
and loosed to the horizon.  As it swung %b
across them like a warning shot, a twinge %b
of worry as the light began to fade. %b
They continued not to speak, but cast a glance %b
around to find a campsite in the waves %b
of bracken, full and thick, and took the chance %b
to pass the night inside the cover of those plants.
%p
Uneven ground.  They rested best they could %b
and listened as the evening's sounds were stilled %b
further by layers of the pinnae.  Pulled %b
their meals from belt-packs, sipped at water, filled %b
themselves with heavy cakes, the kind they said %b
would keep a year and still taste just the same. %b
But filling.  Lard and spices.  As they spread %b
apart beneath the fronds, the night became %b
a living thing that seemed to reach and call their names.
%p
How long had fair folk lived beneath the earth %b
like burrow-grubs?  They called it Cithriel %b
but their high-halled home could only be a hearth %b
for those deemed better - like the lie they'd tell %b
each person from their birth, that some are made %b
better by blood, and all the rest must serve. %b
For all the rest, the whip and hand, a slave %b
to self-enforcing nobility, who preserve %b
the lie by force and saying this is all deserved.
%p
On the second day, they woke up as the dawn %b
was still incipient, and moved like ghosts %b
through total darkness, each depending on %b
the one in front of them.  Their leader poked %b
the air with a fern-stem, Alcius alert %b
for any kind of movement, any sound %b
that might be out of place.  He had them skirt %b
a stream he heard in front of them and found %b
a way that circled vaguely west, then back around.
%p
At sunrise, in the distance, they could hear %b
the stream grow fainter, winnowing away %b
to narrow through a cave and disappear. %b
Despite the chase, it felt as if the way %b
was empty and open: running down the signs %b
and finding nothing, looking for a trace %b
of anyone but them.  They felt the line %b
they followed wobble, branching to a space %b
of possibilities that they would have to chase.
%p
That morning, as they chased down the shallow stream %b
they thought they found a footprint.  In the cave, %b
a narrowing ceiling, and darting shoals that teemed %b
with fry and minnows; at the end, no place %b
for the exiled men to hide but underwater. %b
One of their company stripped his clothes and sword, %b
jumped in and swam, where like an otter %b
he skimmed the bottom, feeling at the floor %b
for anything that might lead him to another shore.
%p
But nothing.  Thirty seconds as he swam %b
beneath an airless ceiling, heading back %b
by pushing off the sand, his body jammed %b
precariously in the tunnel, naked and packed %b
up tight against the rocks.  And as he gasped %b
for air and met their eyes, he shook his head - %b
then dried a minute, dressed, until at last %b
they doubled back, and the widening stream now led %b
them where they'd have to try another path instead.
%p
This time they took the dried-out lake.  Just north, %b
the forest drew a pair of open curves, %b
their boundaries delineating thin %b
shorelines where nothing grew below, and carved %b
a dusty lakebed where the scattered rocks %b
were orange-red, so full of toxic metals %b
each seed and spore that tried to root was stopped %b
and withered where it was, as if some devil %b
had emptied out its cauldron in that stony kettle.
%p
They stopped to take it in, and then the stones %b
began to fly: the air was thick with rust %b
as if the ground itself had stirred and shown %b
its teeth.  But as the shock died down, they just, %b
in the distance, saw the outline of their kind %b
emerge along the lakeside and then stop %b
to reload their makeshift slings of corded vine. %b
As Alcius turned to shout, a comrade dropped, %b
his eyes wide open, his head smashed in against the rocks.
%p
If the king's men hunted before, the relation switched. %b
They dodged and feinted, kettled in that space %b
like animals.  Each time the exiles twitched, %b
a stone flew in; the seconds were a race %b
to read the situation. "Scatter back!" %b
Alcius yelled.  They drew their swords and ran %b
towards the trees, the better to attack %b
the exiles, who would have to, to a man, %b
be forced to fight with clubs, or rocks, or hand-to-hand.
%p
Adrenaline in full swing, they circled round %b
the sheltered shoreline of the lake, swords out, %b
but found the slingers ready - one man crowned %b
by stones, another jumped and turned about %b
with a makeshift mace, a bough lashed to a rock, %b
a weapon, they would've joked, that unlings used, %b
the joke the sort that echoed through their halls %b
but now landed with a crack as they let loose %b
with everything at hand, as stone and brain were fused.
%p
But distance done, the fight took on a new tone. %b
Against unarmoured men, the blades cut deep %b
and bled them quickly, right down to the bone %b
as cover let the kingsmen duck and creep %b
towards their once-was friends.  They cut down men %b
they'd gone to war with, men who'd blessed their child %b
on christening day; who screamed and cried out when %b
run through, and all the old bonds were defiled %b
within the woods that made up this unholy wild.
%p
At first the numbers roughly evened out - %b
the nobles losing two, a couple of exiles %b
run through - but soon the exiles found the scouts %b
too much.  And as they fought back, all the while %b
Alcius circled wide to roam their rear. %b
A pair had fled when it was clear they'd played %b
their hand too quickly, and tried to disappear; %b
but Alcius ran them down like wayward game %b
and once caught up, he left the bodies where they lay.
%p
The scouts now overwhelmed the exiled men %b
and cut them down, although a kingsman took %b
a club-strike to the neck and felt it bend %b
impossibly sideways before his body shook, %b
collapsing, to the rooted, rocky ground. %b
He stared up helplessly and watched the club %b
sweep down towards him, blessed as the sound %b
lasted longer than his death, its crack-and-thud %b
enough to shake the trees and launch the birds above.
%p
Not having shovels, they gathered up the dead %b
and moved them to the lakebed, moving stones %b
until they hit red soil; and then they spread %b
the bodies of the dead in staggered rows %b
to face the sun.  They built a six-foot cairn %b
to mark the place, and hoped that heavy rain %b
might fill the lake and open up to where %b
the souls could find some rest, that when it drained %b
they'd find the bodies missing, travelling back again.
%p
And after this, it was Alcius who spoke. %b
"You see the ones we killed," the king's aide said, %b
"and counted in your head each killing stroke. %b
So you know the number of the rebel dead %b
doesn't match the count that left, that some remain %b
upland.  Some may have slipped beyond the town %b
to find the other settlements and stain %b
them with their creeping rot against the crown. %b
We cannot rest until they're buried in the ground."
%p
An uneasy look - they thought this would be fast, %b
that they'd grab some horses, ride the exiles down %b
like in a fairy tale, where each day passed %b
namelessly into the next, where treachery found %b
a shining blade, and where the only sounds %b
were pipes and drums to welcome heroes home. %b
Their control so easily exerted underground, %b
but here among the dead and orange-red stones %b
it slipped away and left them standing all alone.
%p
Against the stripping light, they stopped to drink %b
then doubled back to take a mid-day meal %b
away from the dead, to clean the crust and stink %b
of blood in the shallow stream, to briefly feel %b
the numbing of cold water on the skin %b
and imagine that the hands that killed old friends %b
were not their own at all; the hour thinned, %b
afternoon as Alcius feverishly went %b
about the planning, knowing what each moment meant.
%p
With a pencil and string, he circled out the space %b
the exiles could have traveled, and then marked %b
the potential points, like hamlets, or the jagged trace %b
of clifflands further north, its caverns dark %b
and not drawn out on their maps.  If they were there, %b
then gone; but he knew they'd find their footsteps, faint %b
or not, somewhere else.  They could be anywhere, %b
but they used to be nobility, not saints, %b
and Alcius knew they'd seek revenge without restraint.
%p
They double-checked the math then headed out, %b
retracing how they came, increased their pace - %b
by evening they'd made it back, and found the scout %b
they'd left to tend the horses in that place %b
that formed their entry-point into the woods. %b
A grim reminder: more horses now than men, %b
just proof that luck was fickle, that they could %b
prepare and bring their quickest, and in the end, %b
the bonds they used to share could be what buried them.
%p
XI
%p
The other scouts went solo or in pairs, %b
a tactic learned from campaigns long ago, %b
when scouts were counter-tracked, and found, and where %b
their bodies lined the roadside, posed to show %b
the way back home.  The ones sent out to plead %b
with former countrymen went out alone; %b
those sent to hunt were twinned and went to bleed %b
what exiles they could find, and whom they'd show %b
the short and sharpened mercy of the faerie throne.
%p
A pair now moved through the meadows; their horses fed %b
on grasses as it walked.  An unling passed %b
in silence; though they hailed her, she still said %b
nothing, and they kept on until at last %b
they made their camp beneath a massive tree. %b
Its leafless branches made for little shade, %b
but segmented the stars, so that they seemed %b
to re-arrange the starlight and portray %b
a different set of constellations on display.
%p
Against that starry night, their silence kept %b
a kind of watch.  Light sleepers, they now let %b
the night-sounds wake them, dreaming as they slept %b
in snatches, watching as the silhouettes %b
they dreaded never came.  The day reset, %b
their fears gone by, they followed down a stream %b
whose waters teemed with fish, and where they bet %b
their once-was countrymen had drank and seen %b
survival flashing red and silver in that sheen.
%p
That day went by, and another; with no one %b
but themselves and the meadowlands, they watched the nights %b
as the other slept, alert for threats; but none %b
emerged, and so it felt they had to fight %b
to remain cautious, alone, it seemed, unseen, %b
observers of the natural world, and not %b
assassins set to work against the green %b
that lit the days, the two of them now caught %b
between this quiet calm and all the blood they sought.
%p
The tenth day out they rode the jagged hills %b
north-east of Cithriel, and staying low, %b
they took its valleys roughly north until %b
a campsite halted them, its traces stowed %b
poorly.  They found some ashes under leaves, %b
then sleeping spots, the grass still matted down %b
and about their size.  Excitement and relief: %b
it might be unlings, but it seemed they'd found %b
an indication where their quarry'd gone to ground.
%p
Assuming that they'd hoped to stay from sight, %b
they took a lazy route that followed through %b
the central valley, rising every night %b
to scan the surrounding plains, that panoramic view %b
empty each time, a trap that never came. %b
Three days of this.  Their nerves on edge.  They knew %b
they'd been sent to kill, and as they followed the same %b
trail the exiles made, they each withdrew, %b
unspeaking, focused only on the long pursuit.
%p
Days later, the valley closed to prairie sun %b
and grasses that sprung like loaded traps, the stems %b
so firm and green it meant that anyone %b
could pass without a trace, they way they mended %b
and stitched themselves after passage.  But lower down, %b
they saw a route in flowers, as the reds %b
and violets had been crushed into the ground %b
by wooden soles, and where their quarry'd tread %b
they'd left a path like stitches made from coloured thread.
%p
Following, they cut their sleep each night %b
an hour or two, to try to trim the span. %b
They shortened meals.  They barely talked.  First light %b
they'd rise, break camp, and quickly make their plans, %b
then ride until the moon was overhead. %b
Their food was gone.  They hunted game.  Ate fox %b
then rabbit, thankful to have that taste instead. %b
Mid-day the tracks turned.  Following, they stopped %b
when pressed down-grasses led the two to ash and rock.
%p 
A turn to carelessness?  They combed the ash %b
and found a pile of bones, a six-course feast %b
for two.  They stopped and listened, till at last %b
they were satisfied whoever'd stopped to eat %b
was long gone.  Now the question of two trails %b
besides theirs: they discussed it; the exiles met %b
another group, then left with them.  The tale %b
went cold after this.  The number or the heft %b
of the companions that they'd picked up was a shaky bet.
%p
"So what now?" said the second. "They're on foot %b
but grouped up.  We've got bows and they'll have rocks, %b
though who knows what kind of company they took. %b
Our glamour's useless on our own.  We've stalked %b
the pair of them this far.  So should we go %b
on or return?"  He kicked a bit of ash. %b
The other took a moment: "if they show %b
themselves, we've got the range, and in this grass %b
we can ride them down, or away; each way, the trouble's passed."
%p
His companion nodded, fingering a knife %b
as the wind picked up, the grasses leaning in %b
to listen.  "We're outnumbered, but you're right. %b
It's probably just some unlings and their slings. %b
We can fire as we ride, and kill those left %b
with our swords on horseback.  We can take a piece %b
from each of them as proof, the king's own crest %b
just gold to them, and claim a better seat %b
further up the table when our lord next calls a feast.
%p
Decided, they mounted up and headed out %b
immediately.  If evening came, they'd stop, %b
wanting the mid-day sun to see if scouts %b
might be sent against them.  As they rode, they swapped %b
roles.  One hour, one of them would ride %b
forward, while the other, right-to-left, %b
rode arcs along the true path, side-to-side %b
about its center.  As the day progressed, %b
they felt their silence grow and watched the light compress.
%p
Before the evening, something at the edge %b
of visible sight - like trees, but lumbering %b
north-west.  They slowed.  And fumbling to fetch %b
a spy-glass, saw a party numbering %b
four giants; where'd their quarry gone?  A turn %b
saw the giants facing them, and so they stopped %b
to spin a bit of glamour.  Something burned, %b
a nagging doubt their shimmer'd gone to pot. %b
A rustle to the east.  And then the pincer dropped.
%p
Their prey had slithered through the grass like snakes, %b
taking pains to avoid pressing down %b
a path or trail that signified the break %b
from the brothers; they lay in wait against the ground, %b
and listened for the scouts they knew would come. %b
Nobility no more; but they knew the rules %b
the king would use against them like a drum %b
to call their deaths, percussion of the cruel %b
that split by force the self-named righteous from their fools.
%p
The first one threw a fist-sized, heavy stone %b
towards the pair, but aimed it at the horse %b
nearest to him.  It struck the anklebone, %b
buckled and broke the beast, and as the force %b
sent the rider tumbling back, he yelled out, "Home!" %b
His companion galloped past, and lashing out, %b
slashed his small sword against the exiles as the thrown %b
rider struggled to find a way from out %b
beneath the horse that crushed him as it thrashed about.
%p
The tip just grazed the shoulder, but then leapt %b
across the throat.  Not deep, but still enough %b
to startle him, to force his sleeve direct %b
against the flow and see the severed cuff %b
of his shirt turn red and drip.  The horseman turned %b
and didn't see his companion clubbed to death %b
or his brains against the grass.  He kicked and spurred %b
his horse faster, faster, knowing this a test %b
he'd only pass if he could outrun all the rest.
%p
Against a single man, he liked his odds. %b
Against the pair of exiles, he might live, %b
but add a group of giants and he saw %b
no way but back.  Any gallantry would give %b
his entrails to the sun.  His body low %b
against the horse, he felt a rock sail past. %b
A parting shot.  He knew that even though %b
there'd be no more, he hadn't had the last. %b
The giants started running, coming at him fast.
%p
Twenty seconds: if he could live that long, %b
he'd make it back to Cithriel alive. %b
A sprinting giant was as fast and strong %b
as a horse at speed, but time was on his side %b
and he knew their pace was unsustainable. %b
He saw them running hard, so he dug in, %b
his horse now galloping, and hit its full %b
stride as he looked back and saw them dim, %b
their shouts a coming clamour in the rushing wind.
%p
Two seconds.  Three.  His horse cut to the left, %b
leaving him cursing just as a jet of flame %b
rushed blue-black past their bodies.  And that deft %b
reaction saved their lives, and in the same %b
instant as that thought, an arrow shrieked %b
past him. And then another.  Though that pace %b
made aiming difficult, he felt his cheek %b
sting.  An arrow's feathers kissed his face - %b
the closest miss.  A bloody little piece of grace.
%p
Thirteen seconds.  As they fired on the run, %b
they were missing him, but closely.  He looked back %b
and saw them at full sprint, the one in front %b
stopping to fire, then sprinting forward; attack %b
and advance.  The stop-and-start had worn him down: %b
at sixteen seconds, no more arrows, though the horse %b
again cut left, again the flame, its sound %b
like conflagration, but strangely cold, his course %b
uneven as they skirted round a wall of gorse.
%p
That smell!  Like cut and fresh new coconut %b
amid the hoofbeats, as the arrows flew %b
and sank in yellow flowers, as they touched %b
the petals, disappearing, falling through %b
its yellow surface to rest within the wood. %b
Strange indeed to flee but wish you could %b
slow down instead and sit within the flowers %b
and watch the sun's slow arc, and where you could %b
have days alone and pass each precious hour %b
watching the grasslands lift their wordless prayer aloud.
%p
A parting shot: an arrow just sailed past, %b
the westward wind a gift that pushed it left, %b
and down, to vanish in the swaying grass. %b
Each second still alive a little theft. %b
Once more that horse his saviour.  Into the gorse, %b
slowing within the flowers as the flames %b
shot past, then leaping out to find its course %b
on even ground.  He thanked that shaky aim, %b
then squeezed his legs to urge his courser on again.
%p
As thirty seconds passed, he dared a glance %b
backwards.  He saw the monstrous, fading forms %b
still running, growing smaller in the expanse %b
of prairieland.  He looked into the gorse, %b
beyond which lay the path to bring him home, %b
though tenuous: six men now tracked his trail %b
and knew he'd likely try to trace the road %b
that brought him here, his days ahead as frail %b
as children in enchanted woods in fairy tales.
%p
He slowed to canter, throwing glances back %b
to ensure the chase had fallen far behind. %b
The knowledge of them hanging like a black %b
spirit by his ear, its whispers lies %b
and truths in proportions impossible to know: %b
"they're just beyond your sight"; "stop here to rest." %b
He felt his horse's stress.  He let it slow %b
and let the doubts creep in as he obsessed %b
as evening dimmed the light and shadows coalesced.
%p
The calculus of this, the way he knew %b
his advantage grew by ride, and shrank with sleep. %b
He'd led for half a day.  If they came to %b
his position while he slept, they'd have to creep %b
or else he'd wake; and he could break camp fast, %b
and once at speed increase the distance more. %b
They'd have to rest eventually - he passed %b
an hour considering what to do before %b
he finally slept, both horse and rider tense and sore.
%p
He woke at dawn, alive.  His horse watched him. %b
He stood and stretched, and in the coming light %b
saw nothing, heard nothing.  Circling about, he skimmed %b
the sightlines, caught no motion.  Felt the night %b
retreat.  He ate; his horse ate forage; he led %b
him down to a shallow creek and watched him drink %b
thirstily.  He knelt himself.  Instead %b
of drinking, he washed his face until his skin %b
was red and cold.  He saddled up.  They settled in.
%p
Eleven days he traced his way back home, %b
avoiding open ground and lines of sight %b
he thought they'd take; he kept his body low %b
against his horse, and spent the drawn-out nights %b
awake with every sound: elusive sleep. %b
His companion gone to midnight lands, he kept %b
that bloody day internal, let it steep %b
in silence and cool weather.  When he slept, %b
it paused, resuming when he woke, broke camp, and left.
%p
He rode, he stopped, he ate, he drank, he slept. %b
And throughout, the days a knife-tip at his back: %b
whether his pursuers came and swept %b
across the plains, a sharp scythe in the grass, %b
or if their course had wandered someplace else. %b
Unanswerable.  To see them, to be done. %b
He rode, cast glances back, and kept himself %b
occupied beneath the silent sun, %b
just hoping for his course to not be overrun.
%p
Eleven days until he reached the hall, %b
finding his way through clever doors and gaps %b
hidden by hillsides, by glamour and deadfall, %b
false rocks; and down the tunnels, wandered past %b
those traps he knew were waiting.  If not him, %b
the pitch would pour, the arrows snap behind %b
the murder holes whose placement seemed just slim %b
slits between the stones, but whose design %b
felt like unblinking eyes within those tight confines.
%p
That passage took him downward, and his horse %b
moved slowly on the floor whose pitch and tilt %b
took turns to make them stumble on their course. %b
They wandered through the strange, unearthly lilt %b
of footsteps mixed with distant water drops %b
from rocky resevoirs, past jagged bends %b
with hidden pits of snakes whose bite would stop %b
your heart. He felt the two of them descend %b
until they reached the wall that marked the tunnel's end.
%p
