The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale (29 page)

Caitlin scrambled for her knife and drove it into the warrior's diaphragm, or rather, where a mortal's diaphragm would be, and up. The blade pierced the furs and sank into tender flesh. Then the tip bit into the earth on the other side of the warrior. He vanished in a puff of darkness.

Yanking the blade from the ground, Caitlin stared hard at the other two hunters.

They stopped, looked at each other, then back to her. Both smiled and took a step forward.

“I challenge!” Brendan screamed, and everything stopped.

Caitlin blinked as the two warriors abruptly lowered their weapons, turned, and rejoined their group. She took a hesitant step forward as the remaining hunt stepped back, opening up a circle around Brendan. At one end of the circle, Cernunnos struck the ground with the butt of his spear.

“So, a score gets settled this night after all,” Cernunnos said. “Long overdue is this battle, Fian.”

“If it's a settling of scores you're wanting, come and take it,” Brendan answered. He spun his blades and smiled. “If you can.”

In the blink of an eye, they were on each other. Like the hunt, she couldn't help but watch. It wasn't wild, brutal fighting. These were two masters of their art, fierce but graceful, purposeful and somehow
elegant.

There were flashes of steel as knives and spear slashed out. The two combatants twisted and turned, barely avoiding each other's attacks. Even Caitlin could tell they were well matched, but then, Cernunnos wasn't injured.

The spear swept out in a wide arc at Brendan's legs, and he leapt over it. Cernunnos came around with his shield. It slammed hard into Brendan's chest, the blow knocking him onto his back and sending the knives from his hands.

Continuing his turn, Cernunnos drove the spear down, but Brendan rolled to one side and dodged. As Cernunnos went to draw it back, Brendan grabbed the haft and held it.

“You're weakening, Fian.” Cernunnos tried to pull the spear back. “This fight is mine, and soon, so shall be your ma—­”

Brendan grabbed the shaft with his other hand and leaned back. This drove the tip into the ground, and he heaved it up. The haft caught Cernunnos under his arm, lifted him clear of the ground, and hurled him over Brendan.

Cernunnos crashed face-­first into the ground.

Before Cernunnos could recover, Brendan was on his back, knee pressed into his spine and the spear tip pressed against his neck.

“It's done,” Brendan said between labored breaths. “You've lost. I said our quarrel wasn't with you or your hunt.”

The mass of warriors had gone still, as had Caitlin.

“What she said was true,” Brendan said. “We're getting her child back, and for that we're after the man himself.”

Caitlin held her breath and watched.

“You're noon fae,” Brendan said. “You must answer a summons from either court, but you alone amongst the fae can choose to ignore it. Go, and leave us to our business.” He pressed the tip into Cernunnos's neck a little more. “Or stay. Your choice, Cernunnos.”

Everything was still for several long seconds. Finally, Cernunnos tapped his hand to the ground. The hunt, and Caitlin, let out a collective breath.

Brendan stood, and when Cernunnos rolled onto his back, Brendan offered his hand.

Cernunnos took it, and Brendan hauled him to his feet. They stared at each other then, and Brendan handed him his spear.

“You fight like Fionn himself,” Cernunnos said. He said something to the hunt in a guttural tongue. In response, a horn sounded again with several short calls. The mob began to disperse the way they'd come, disappearing into the mists and shadows.

Brendan picked up his knives, but he never took his eyes from his opponent.

“Farewell, Fian,” Cernunnos said to Brendan, then bowed to Caitlin. “Milady.” He turned and walked away, but after a few steps, he looked over his shoulder. “We are not the last you will face this night. You know well, a third challenge awaits you. I for one wish you success so that one day we might battle once more.”

With that, mists blew in, masking Cernunnos and the remaining hunters from view. When the fog passed, the hunt was gone.

Brendan dropped his knives, and he fell to his knees.

“Brendan!” Caitlin rushed to his side.

“The bastard caught me ribs with that fecking shield,” he said between short gasps. “Just give me a minute.”

Caitlin helped him to his feet.

Slowly, he straightened and drew some breaths. Before each got too deep though, he winced and exhaled.

He forced a pained smile. “Don't worry, love. I thought this might happen.” He pulled the necklace out from his shirt and lifted the wood carving to his lips. He kissed it and whispered something. A tingle went through her as the wood crumbled into dust. Brendan straightened and took several long, deep breaths.

“What was that?”

“Painkillers, of a sort. I'll be all right. I've had worse, to be sure.”

Even though she could still see a slight wince when he drew a breath in too deeply, she didn't say anything.

“What about you?” he asked. “Are you all right?” He looked her over for a moment, then smiled wide. “That was bleeding deadly, that was.”

She smiled. “I got lucky. I know what bones break most often and easily.”

He turned her head and saw the cut. Wiping the trail of blood from her cheek, he looked at her. “Got a piece of you I see, but not too bad, I think.”

“I'll be okay.” Her eyes went wide as she realized what had just happened and the rush began to subside.

Brendan laughed. “You did fine. Luck can be as important as skill.”

She closed her eyes and started laughing, too. “I can't believe I did that.” As she put her hands to her face, she looked down. Brendan's shirt was torn in several places, and it was soaked with blood. Her laughter stopped.

Brendan looked down. “Ah, hell, I really liked this one.” He sighed and pulled the shirt off. His chest was covered in fresh cuts and bruises. The arrow had struck the shoulder with the elfin bandage, and the bandage seemed to have closed over the wound after he pulled the arrow out.

“Let me look,” she said.

He didn't fight her.

Most of the wounds were superficial, and only a ­couple of the cuts were still bleeding. There was, however, a nasty bruise over his ribs. When she touched it, he drew in a breath.

“Easy there, love. The pain is just lessened, not gone, and it didn't do nothing for the injury, I'm afraid.”

“Sorry,” she said, then continued her exam. Taking what was left of his shirt, she wiped blood away. “Are you sure you're going to be all right?”

“And if I'm not? What, we just turn around and head to the doctor?” He shook his head. “No. I'm not a hundred percent, but I'm not done in either.”

She swallowed and looked him in the eye. After a moment of him staring back, she handed him the shirt.

He wiped the last of the blood away, then pulled a lighter from the pouch on his belt and set his bloodied shirt aflame. “I'll not be leaving me blood laying about here.”

Caitlin swallowed and felt a twinge in her stomach as she thought of hair vanishing in fire and a brownie falling dead. Soon there was nothing left of the shirt but a small pile of ash. Standing there, shirtless, tattooed, and kilted, Brendan looked every bit the Celtic warrior of legend come to life. Caitlin found it more than a little inspiring.

“That was powerful fighting. You stood against them despite the dangers to yourself. You found the warrior inside you,” Brendan said.

“I'm not—­”

“Courage and the willingness to stand for those who can't, that's what makes a warrior.”

Caitlin picked up the knife and smiled at the approval she saw in his eyes, but a sudden thought interrupted the moment.

“What did Cernunnos mean when he said another challenge?”

“Threes, everything is about threes. We faced Fergus's guard, then the wild hunt.”

Caitlin opened her mouth, but Brendan continued before she could speak.

“The first two hounds were part of the hunt, as well. We've still got one more to deal with before we can get to the man himself.”

Caitlin drew in a breath. “I'm ready. And for the first time I can remember, I really mean it.”

“Let's get to the end of this, then, aye?”

Caitlin nodded.

Brendan continued down the path. Caitlin followed him, her steps a little surer than before.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-­FOUR

C
aitlin found her senses becoming more acute with each step. Every sound or flash of movement caused her head to turn. Even the smells seemed to speak to her about their surroundings.

Brendan, however, seemed almost relaxed. His knives were in their sheaths, and he was walking calmly. The only telltale sign of his awareness was the small movement of his head. Even his slight limp was hard to spot. However, the calm of the woods didn't lessen the sense of menace—­quite the opposite, actually. The stillness and quiet only put Caitlin more on edge, waiting for the inevitable trap to spring.

In a blur of movement, Brendan sprang toward the woods and grabbed something from the shadows. Before Caitlin could blink, he had a wriggling form pinned against a tree with his left forearm, a knife in his right hand held to the creature's throat.

“You have the keenest senses of anyone I know,” the form said in a high-­pitched, giggling voice. “Even most of the fae can't find me if I don't want them to.”

Caitlin gripped her knife and stared at the pinned creature. It looked like a small, furry man-­cat thing, no bigger than a six-­ or seven-­year-­old child. Its whole body was covered by black fur, and it had shimmering golden eyes. It grinned wide, showing bright white teeth. With the exception of prominent fangs, they were almost normal.

“You know,” Brendan said, “after the hunt, I would've expected more from Fergus.”

“Now that isn't very nice,” the creature said. “I've only come to help you and this is the thankkkk—­”

Brendan pressed his forearm into its neck. “You think I'm thick as all that, then? We've no time for your games, Puck.”

“Puck?” Caitlin asked. “As in Robin Goodfellow? ‘If we shadows have offended' Puck?”

Puck wriggled and gripped Brendan's arm, struggling as he gurgled something unintelligible.

“That's one of the little ape's names, aye,” Brendan said. “He's captain of the pùca and Fergus's little trained monkey. Aren't you?”

“Is he the third challenge?” Caitlin asked, looking closer. Puck's eyes were beginning to bulge, and he was kicking more insistently.

“Not likely.” Brendan laughed. “If he is, Fergus has gone wonky in his old age.”

“Should we just kill him and be done?” Caitlin asked. The ease with which she said those words surprised her. However, it quickly burned away under the anger that still smoldered in her.

“Naaahghk.” Puck shook his head side to side so fast that his face blurred.

“What do you want?” Brendan asked and eased the pressure on Puck's neck.

Puck took in several deep gasps and began panting. “Is that any way to repay kindnahck—­”

Brendan leaned in again. “You're as useless as a lighthouse in a bog, you are.”

Puck struggled more, and his eyes almost doubled in size.

“
Dar fia,
” Brendan said. “Stop with the acting already. We both know you don't need to breathe.”

The struggling stopped. Puck pursed his lips and glowered at Brendan. “You're no fun at all, Fian. You know that?”

“I'm only going to ask you one more time,” Brendan said and set the point of his knife just above Puck's chest. “What the bloody hell do you want?”

“Fergus sent me to guide you,” Puck said in a short, clipped tone, not unlike a pouting child, then crossed his arms. “He wanted me to lead you to the hall of doors. From there, if you're worthy, you can make your way to his court.”

“Bollocks,” Brendan said. “What are you doing here?”

Puck gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes, and Caitlin almost thought she heard a growl come from him. “I've been sent to assure your safe passage through my lord's darkened woods,” he said in a low tone. “And to ensure you arrive safe and whole at the hall of doors.”

“Third time,” Caitlin said, having figured out what Brendan was doing.

“Aye, you heard the lady. What are you doing here, you furry little shite?”

Puck made a sound that would've been more fitting coming from a Chihuahua, and his eyes seemed to light with fire. “I'm here to take you two to the hall of doors,” he said. His eyes looked to one side, then the other. “Safely and unharmed,” he added in a mocking tone as he bobbed his head from side to side.

“Fine, then,” Brendan said, releasing him. “Lead on.”

Puck dropped to the ground and landed on his backside. “Ow!” When he got to his feet, he scowled up at Brendan with his tongue out, then turned to Caitlin. “You know, I expected this big lummox to be lacking any manners or sense of fun, but you mortals are usually so much more entertaining.”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow. The thought of killing him was becoming less bothersome.

Puck began walking down the trail ahead of them. “See what happens when you spend too much time with him?” he muttered.

“Come on,” Brendan said to Caitlin as he sheathed his knife. “He's an annoying little bugger, but he's bound now.”

“I heard that!” Puck shouted from down the trail.

“We're going to regret not killing him, aren't we?” Caitlin asked.

Puck stood several paces ahead, waiting with crossed arms, foot tapping the ground, casting glances at an imaginary wristwatch.

“Trip's not over yet, is it?” Brendan said with a smile.

“I heard that, too!” Puck shouted.