Protector of the Light (Champion of the Sidhe urban fantasy series) (6 page)

Just as there was a knot within a knot, there was an enchantment within an enchantment, and a knowing within a knowing. With his eyes, Lugh could see the ball of enchantment that the weavers had forged. This ball was but a single one like hundreds of similar ones all along the entire coast of Ireland. Just as they created a button loop for each inner loop of the Veil's magic, each of these great balls of enchantment was as a button in the netting of the whole of the Veil, linking them to each other as a whole. Were he to see the fullness of the enchantment, Lugh would see thousands of threads rising from this ball into the sky like the great trunk of a tree, where it would spread into a canopy of branches. And those branches twisted and embraced the branches of the other tree-like enchantments a few miles off in either direction along the coast. Much like the way the trees of the Grove were woven into a single great canopy. His thoughts of the enchantment reached the elves and one of the lads gasped, "It is beautiful. Like the Grove. You are right."

Although he could not see it himself outside his memory, Lugh allowed the elves the gift of witnessing the inner workings of the enchantment for several minutes while they could still experience it. Each elf stared upward with amazement. After a period of reflection, Lugh guided them through the unsophisticated technique to dislodge themselves from their creation. It was as with any enchantment once completed. One never broke the threads of one's weaving. Only drew out the final complete loop and released it. The shape of fey magic never resulted in a loose end. All was circular. All was as complete and never-ending as a circle or knotwork pattern.

Only now that his focus returned to himself did Lugh feel the horrid pain that stabbed though his body. Kneeling with no padding on the stones hurt his joints as viciously as the goblin arrow he'd recently taken. Stiff from having not moved in untold hours, Lugh attempted to unfold himself to his full height, but got no farther than planting one foot and failing to push himself up from his knee. Fighting to steady himself, Lugh gripped Mckenna's shoulder. A wave of dizziness washed over him, against which he clenched his teeth to stifle a groan.

Mckenna placed a hand over Lugh's and the pain of the pressure was horrendous. Lugh snatched back his hand, and only then did he see that the tips of his fingers were partially transparent. He balled his hands into fists, but not before Mckenna saw.

The others hadn't noticed, as they moved with the stiffness of inactivity, but not of the weakness from the Fade that drained Lugh.

"Move the enchantment to the fountain pedestal," Cai instructed. A bowl-shaped depression in the pedestal cradled the ball of enchantment. The fountain about it, though only a token foot deep, was wide enough that a visitor could not easily reach out and disturb the enchantment, accidentally toppling it. The two lads did as instructed.

"Lugh?" The king's voice reached no other ear, he breathed the whisper so respectfully.

"A moment of meditation to gather myself," Lugh replied, unable to stand and yet unwilling to crumble before these elves. Pride gave him the only strength he yet possessed. He'd thought to be so careful, but in the magicraft he'd lost his awareness and taxed himself beyond his reserves.

Mckenna accepted Lugh's unspoken request, saying instead, "Perhaps you would like a moment of privacy, Lord Lugh, to contemplate this day and the statuary of your kin? I know your Tailtiu was among our revered Veil weavers." After a sliver of hesitation, he added, "I shall return to share your meditation after a span."

Still humbled and awed by the magic they'd partaken in, the lads didn't resist Cai herding them from the chamber. "Let us tell those that await our joyous news." Mckenna followed them out and closed the door behind him, leaving Lugh kneeling alone in the chamber.

Only when truly alone did Lugh release his strangle hold upon the trembling that spread like a fire across his body. Through a mighty effort of control, he avoided the need to retch. He rolled onto the floor, aching everywhere, as if he'd worked every single muscle of his body past the point of exhaustion. The Fade lanced across the whole of his body, which starved for the magic that would replenish him. Like wasted crops that withered or the cracking soil torn asunder by drought, each fiber of his body wrestled to claim the final shreds of magic, tearing him apart from the inside. A groan of pain he'd not even known he'd loosed escaped him.

And then an outcry of rage and defeat tore from his throat.

For in the death that was to come for him, all hope for the fey was lost.

Chapter Seven

"Nothing hurts like the Fade."

Lugh rolled to his side, startled by the voice in a chamber he'd trusted as empty. Through determination alone he pushed himself up, absorbing the pain in a wave that sent his muscles trembling against the force of his will. His voice conveyed the power his body failed to provide. "Who speaks?"

A figure, tall and dark in the hooded cloak that shadowed his face, sidestepped from behind the statue of Taranis. Not even his hands were visible, hidden by the voluminous sleeves. "There is relief, if you'll have it. Trust me. I know your pain."

Lugh eased up to his feet, barely maintaining control against the dizziness that tilted the room. He faced the cloaked figure with all the severity he could muster. "What relief? If I am to trust you, then show your face."

The figure lifted his head. The waning light of the western sun reached inside the hood.

Gareth.

He raised his hand, the sleeve dropping back to reveal a small bottle balanced between thumb and forefinger. The light glinted off the faceting of the crystal as he offered it to Lugh. "Drink that."

Subduing a frown of mistrust from hardening his features, Lugh twisted off the cap and flicked a droplet onto his hand. The cooling magic of the potion soaked into his skin, lessening the pain of the Fade and replacing it with a humming sensation. Lugh capped the bottle. "You are of the light, wood elf. As am I. Dabbling with dark magic is dangerous at the best of times. You should abstain, even now."

"How did I know you were going to say that?" A tall fey in the guise of a dark elf, but in the modern human clothing of denim and cotton, strolled from behind the statue of Druantia. He leaned with irreverent grace against the statue. In the wickedness of the grin, unnaturally wide, Lugh knew this fey was no elf, dark or otherwise. He was a Changeling.

Gareth took this moment of distraction and lunged, jabbing something between Lugh's ribs.

Lugh shoved the wood elf away. Even still, a spreading chill lanced through him. Lugh grabbed the thing stuck into him and jerked it out.

A hypodermic needle.

The plunger fully depressed.

The empty needle rolled from his hand and dropped onto the floor.

Lugh stumbled. "What have you done?"

"You were starved for magic. I've given it to you." False friendliness dripped from Gareth's words.

"Not dark magic." The cold rush disorienting him, Lugh dropped to a knee. He clutched at his side as if he might forestall the cold leaching through his body. "I am Light. I can't…" The dark magic spread through the agony of the Fade, transforming it. "I can't have this. Not darkness."

A snarl twisted Gareth's handsome face. "You wanted to merge the Light Court with the Dark Court? You think light magic and dark magic can commingle and not destroy each other?" He crouched before Lugh, just out of arm's reach as he gloated.

Lugh stared into the elf's cold eyes. The bitterness there. The hatred. But there was more. Pupils dilated so wide that his irises appeared black. The same dark madness with which he'd poisoned Lugh infused the wood elf.

"You destroyed the Mounds, Seelie. You destroyed my family. You destroyed my life." With an evil smile, Gareth whispered, "Now, I've destroyed you."

"Be gone from me viper." Lugh snarled, lips curled back in a threat.

The Changeling in the guise of a dark elf placed a hand on Gareth's shoulder. "You've had your revenge." With a sideways flick of his head he dismissed him.

Gareth cast one last look at Lugh. No doubt memorizing this moment so he might relive his triumph. Then he teleported away. Something no Fading fey should have been able to achieve. Gareth hadn't simply forestalled the Fade with this dark magic, but had given himself fully over to it. So possessed of the foreign enchantment, he was no longer the man he once had been, but a wretched, consumed creature.

Frozen tendrils of the enchantment vined through Lugh, spreading with the persistence of ivy. It twisted within him, reaching ever deeper. Lugh eased himself onto the edge of the fountain. He drew up a cupped handful of the fresh water to drink, and then splashed his face with it. Nothing cleared his head. The magic vibrated down his arms and legs. It coiled into his mind like a shadow. Lugh covered his face with his hands, struggling to preserve his integrity, yet feeling it start to slip from his grasp.

"He thought dark magic would kill you, Sun Sidhe. You and I both know better, don't we?" The Changeling circled around, easing up beside him. "The eclipse doesn't destroy you. It frees you."

Lugh checked his side. The bruising of the dark magic lessened as it spread into his body. Under no circumstances could he allow himself to give in to the temptation of dark magic. Not he, who was the epitome of the light. Once before, he'd been poisoned with dark magic, and the eclipse of the sun was a period that no one who witnessed could scrub from their nightmares.

Lugh trembled, struggling to resist the shadow that spread through him. As the magic reached his fingers, Lugh flexed his hand. Now that the dark magic filled his void, the pain dissipated. "I don't want this."

"Oh, but you really do." The Changeling purred, as friendly and tempting as a demon. "There is no reason to suffer. Surely no sense in it."

And suffer he had. Day by day the Fade stripped more of his life away, leaving agony in its wake. If not for the Fade, repairing the Veil would have been no drain upon him.

Lugh flinched away from the Changeling. "You've already poisoned me. Why are you wasting your breath?"

"I've not poisoned you, Lugh." The Changeling laughed, as if they were the oldest of mates. "I've just given you a taste of what I have to offer." He pointed to the bottle still in Lugh's hand. "That magic will keep you alive. When you need more, and you will sooner or later, you can find me on the Isle of Mann. Everyone knows me. Just ask around for Deacon."

The Changeling gave him a two-finger salute and smirked as he vanished.

The spread of the darkness calmed, and it had not torn his mind asunder, just laced his thoughts with a hint of shadow. This tiny bit of dark magic had been just enough to ease the Fade. Just enough to keep him going. Lugh knew well the art of compromise. He'd no choice in this, so need carry no guilt for it. If he could turn this to his advantage, was that not the Seelie way? Besides, he had no way to purge himself of this unwanted darkness.

Some part of his mind wrestled against that logic, whispering that there was a way to rid himself of the darkness, but Lugh stifled it. There was no way to purge himself that would not leave him as he'd been; suffering and weak.

Perhaps if he allowed this much dark magic to replenish him, and no more, he could finish his work and restore the realm of the fey. Then no one need suffer the Fade any longer.

Even knowing he should cast it aside, Lugh slipped the bottle into his pocket.

Chapter Eight

That evening, Lugh strode through the neon-illuminated streets of Dublin. The black denim the wood elves gifted him fit just the way he liked, lose enough to move as freely as he desired and closely enough to give a pleasant pressure to his hips and legs. The dark, sleeveless cotton shirt kept him cool on the summer evening and didn't hamper the movement of his arms. The bottle Deacon gave him, tucked into the inside pocket of the jacket fashioned from the same fabric as the jeans, bounced against his side with each stride.

That he felt better than he had since before the Collapse was an illusion and Lugh knew it. Though the infusion of dark magic had relieved the pain of the Fade, it hadn't cured him. Lugh still had to conserve his magic; nothing changed in that.

What had changed was a desire to bite someone.

A small thing really, but a sign nonetheless of the unnatural darkness that stained him. Lugh was light. The very sun. The purest of the light magics. Dark magic affected him as it did few others, almost to the point of an allergic reaction. If he consumed it in any quantity he was no fit creature for anyone to be around. It aroused a bestial nature difficult to subdue.

But with just a taint… just a smudge… This much he could handle.

Just until he finished his quest to restore the realm of fey.

And then… Then he would purge himself of the darkness and cast it aside.

Mckenna's people had found three artifacts among their possessions, and given them to Lugh for restoring the Great Veil. These, along with the axe, Lugh saw safely into the keeping of the dragon, Jonathan. Mckenna had volunteered to teleport Lugh to deliver his treasures and then to return him to Dublin. The wood elves' king hadn't mentioned anything about the Fade, which Lugh appreciated. Especially now that he no longer showed the advanced signs of the wasting.