The Silent Goddess: The Otherworld Series Book 1 (4 page)

             His feet finally stopped moving once he reached the park on the other side of Essex Street.  He found an unoccupied bench and sank into it.  His hands trembled as he rested his head in them and letting out a deep breath cleared his thoughts and tried to remember anything that would help him.

She was enchanted.  Heavy powerful magick shimmered around her aura.  From the outside she appeared mortal, and fragile.  Even the powerful magick could not completely conceal the Sidhe in her. He had encountered a few changelings before.  There was always something of the Sidhe that shone through, usually it was the eyes.

If there was a human with unusual colored eyes, they almost always had Fae blood in their veins.  There were other signs, but the eyes were easily noticed.  He had met one changeling whose eyes changed color depending on what he wore, sometimes even his mood.

Annie’s mortal shell had begun to crack.  Her eyes were the exact color he remembered  Maybe the power of the glamour had not been strong enough to contain the power of royalty.  The how and why were important; but the
“who”
struck him suddenly as more important.

He had witnesses the constant struggle between the Sidhe King and Queen.  When Annie, as he would call her for now, was first found missing.  The king gathered all the riders of the Sidhe to search the Otherworld for her; the queen had done nothing.  Instead she had gone right for Duncan.  Caelia, Annie’s friend and confidant had gone to the queen and confessed about Annie and Duncan’s secret meetings.  She of course had been furious and was convinced her mortal lover was hiding her daughter.  It had taken more than Duncan cared to admit to convince the queen of his innocence.  At first Duncan had been sure the king and queen were keeping Annie from him.  He had threatened to tear through the veil himself and find her.

As time edged on suspicion no longer surrounded him.  He had become a Faeriedae by then, and by Sidhe law incapable of deceit.  However it seemed there was not a day that passed when the king did not call on him.

“Today I have found her trail.  Come, help me bring her home,” the king would ask of him.  He would eagerly go, only to return empty and even hollower than before.  Every time he left the Otherworld more time passed on Earth, years turning into decades, decades into centuries, and so on, until he could barely recognize the world he had been stolen from.  When he returned to the otherworld only moments had passed and the feeling of losing her remained fresh.  The queen sat silently, silently watching him.

“So,” drawled a voice next to him.

Duncan jumped to his feet startled.  He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he had not heard Knackers approach. 
Then again,
He glared at his mischievous companion who seemed to still be in a fit of laughter.

“Och, ye should have seen yer face,” Knackers managed to squeak out wiping tears from his cat-like eyes.

“Knackers,” Duncan growled.  “Please tell me you used mundane transportation.”

“Och,” he replied waving his hand.  “Dunno fash yerself, course I did.  Tis what makes it so funny,” he managed as another bout of wheezing laughter racked his tiny frame.

“Careful you might spit out a hairball,” Duncan retorted.

“That’s no’ nice,” Knackers said wagging a finger.  “I think I look respectable.”

“Barely passable,” Duncan said eying his unusual companion.

Knackers had managed to hide most of his more feline qualities, including, Duncan noticed, his tail.  His usually ash covered body was washed clean. (Knackers had a habit of lying too close to any fire he could find.)  His black cape had been replaced by a very loud shirt with brightly colored flowers that Duncan was sure did not exist in nature.  His usual tight knickers and boots had been replaced with long tan short pants that hung loosely on him and stopped just at his knees.  But perhaps the most disturbing garment on Knackers was the footwear on his feet.  He did not, ever again, want to see Knackers’ toes.  His gray-black beard had at least tried to accept a combs manipulation, or at least it no longer stuck out at odd angles.  Knackers made a cat-like snort.

“Passable?  This is gorgeous,” Knackers said waving his hands up and down his diminutive, strangely attired frame.

At that Duncan did laugh.

“Finally, now that is a sound I have no’ heard in an age.  So now that yer out of yer head what have ye ta tell?”

Duncan sat back down and stared across the Commons.  It was quiet.  A few people wandered on the path that encircled the grass.  A handful of people were gathered together laughing and playing some sort of game with a flying disk.  Mothers watched their small children climb, and fall off a miniature combat course of some kind.  He took this all in as he tried to form his thoughts into words.

“It was-“he began.  It was wonderful soothing and frustrating.  There were no human or Fae words to describe exactly how he was feeling.  “Confusing,” was the word he finally settled on.  Knackers raised a shaggy questioning brow but said nothing.

“It was her and yet not her.  It is as if she were asleep or rather as if I were to see her in a dream,” he tried to explain.

“Like just a poor copy?” Knackers inquired.

“Yes, she’s there. Her eyes, they’re her eyes! The same beautiful color, the same sparkle.  She’s there sleeping behind those eyes.  The look of her is the same, or almost the same.”

“So powerful magick spent more on hiding her essence than her appearance,” Knackers mused.

“Aye that is it.”

“Did she, ken ye?”

Duncan shook his head.  Knackers responded by patting him on the back.

“She will,” he reassured.  “So what now?”

“I am invited back later.”

“Oh ho! Guess it went better than yer lettin’ on.”

“There will be others; her friends are attending as well.”

“Ye speak to a lass, who, dunno ken ye for five minutes and get invited to meet her court!  Ye are a silver tongued devil Duncan.”

“Mayhap,” Duncan said with a deep sigh.  “I have been wondering though if the one who stole her might be among those she is close to.”

“Ye think that important?”

“Aye, verra important.”

Chapter Four

Fiona Makes Three

“Why is it important who stole yer love?” Knackers asked again.  It was a question that he kept asking since Duncan had first mentioned it.  Duncan gave no answer because he himself had been pondering the question over the last few hours. 

Duncan sighed, it was close to six and he wanted to be at Annie’s early to steal a few moments alone with her.

“It matters because then we will understand why she was taken,” he said giving the first answer that came into his head.  Duncan waved his hand in front of his chest to change the color of his V-neck shirt.  Knackers shook his head at the red color.

“Too much like her,” he said.  At Duncan’s confused look he explained, “Too much like the queen.  Tis ye we want her remembering first.  What color were ye wearin’ when ye first met?”  Duncan waved his hand over his chest again and the color of his shirt changed to a deep blue.  “Perfect,” Knackers said giving Duncan a thumbs up.  “Now explain.”

Duncan sat down on the small wooden chair.  He reached out his hand and a magnificent sword appeared in his grip.  Its long blade, that was always sharp, gleamed in the dimly lit room.  Duncan admired the sword briefly thanking it silently for appearing at his call from the other side of the veil before placing it between his thighs tip touching the wooden floor.  He rested his chin on the ornately decorated pommel soaking up the silent power thrumming through the one magickal item he possessed.  Strategizing always seemed easier to talk about with his sword in his hand.  The sword’s name was Answerer.   It allowed only truth to be spoken in its presence, and since plans and strategy required truth it made sense to hold the sword now.

“We do not know why she was taken.  We do not know who did the taking.  So if we know who, we will have a better understanding of their ultimate goal,” Duncan explained as much to himself as to Knackers.

“Well as far as any can tell the only thing that has happened is the weakening of the queen and the veil,” Knackers stated.

Duncan nodded in agreement.  “And who benefits from that?”  He asked, again thinking aloud.

“Anyone who’s had a tiff with the queen?”

“That is a very long list.”

Knackers flinched, Duncan snickered, and a loud knock on the door happened almost all at once. Duncan was immediately on his feet, his sword gripped tightly in his hands ready to strike a blow.

“Now ye’ve done it,” whispered Knackers.  Duncan did not bother turning around.  He held out a hand to quiet Knackers while the other kept its grip on Answerer.

“May I enter dark rider of the Sidhe, who is known by the name Duncan?” came a sweet sounding voice from the other side of the door.

Duncan turned towards Knackers, who was now cowering behind the feeble wooden chair, he frowned down at him, and Knackers at least grinned sheepishly at him.  “Sorry,” mouthed Knackers.

The apology turned Duncan’s frown into a scowl.  He jerked his head towards the door in an unspoken question.  Knackers shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.  Neither of them new who or what was behind the door.

“Are you friend?” Duncan asked as he carefully watched the sword in his hand.

“In truth we have never met but share the same goal, the protection and safe return of my mistress,” replied the voice.  The sword of truth remained calm in his palm a sure sign that the truth was being spoken.  Convinced they were in the company of a new ally, Duncan’s posture relaxed.

“Then you are welcome, enter,” he said.  The door shimmered white and a four foot tall hole opened in the door, it was not the magick that surprised Duncan it was what walked through the magickal opening; a Bean Tighe.  Bean Tighes rarely, if ever leave the household they claim charge over.  They were busy Fae, tiny helpers of women and the household.  If a Bean Tighe left their charge it meant one of two things, either the last member of the household had died or the household itself was in trouble.  Duncan was fully aware that it was the later that caused this particular Bean Tighe to abandon her post.

With a curious eye Duncan examined the tiny Fae in front of him.  Her graying, frizzy curls barely reached the height of his elbow.  She had kindly brown eyes and a round face that was smudged with dirt and dust.  Her cheeks were lightly stained pink and her lips were pursed.  She stared up at him unblinking, an eyebrow raised as she studied him and he studied her.  She then surprised Duncan by curtseying.  It was a stunning show of respect, one Duncan was uncomfortable with.

“I do not deserve such respect Bean Tighe.  May I hear what to call thee?”  Duncan said using Sidhe proper court speech.

Knackers snickered behind his flimsy chair shield.  The petite Bean Tighe pulled her plump form up to her full height and glared like a mother about to scold a child.  The message registered and Knackers quickly looked down at the floor.

“Respect you deserve,” she said to Duncan as her eyes remained on Knackers. When she was sure her visual scolding had put Knackers in his place she returned her attention to Duncan and continued speaking.  “You are the key to the survival of us all I think.    Now, let us be friends and talk as friends should.  I see no others around that would object,” she said as her eyes slid back to Knackers.  “You may call me Fiona and I will call you Duncan.”

Duncan nodded his head in agreement.  It never paid to disagree with a Bean Tighe, for as much as their purpose was to keep things clean, they could also make things very dirty and chaotic.

“Very well, how may I help thee Fiona?” Duncan inquired.

“Oh, I think you misunderstand Duncan,” she said with a motherly pat on his sword arm.  The action reminded Duncan that he was still poised to strike a blow.  He slowly lowered his sword to a less threatening position.  Fiona smiled gratefully and continued, “I am here to help you.”

She smiled up at him and two dimples appeared in her rosy cheeks.  She hopped up on the chair Knackers had been using as a shield moments before; and wiggled her way back until she was comfortable.  Her tiny apple shaped face looked left then right before coming back to face Duncan.

“It seems I have taken the only available seat, why is that?”  She asked raising a gray brow at him.

“I am fine where I am and was not expecting company,” Duncan replied.

She fixed him with a very disapproving look and snapped her fingers producing another chair.  She motioned for Duncan to be seated, “Sit, I’ll not be hurtin’ me neck ta stare up at ye.”  Duncan did as he was told and slowly lowered himself into the chair.

“What ‘bout me?” Knackers whined.

“Cat’s sit on the floor,” she snapped back at him.

Knackers grumbled under his breath but he too did as he was told.  Seemingly pleased at the new seating arrangements she smiled and nodded.  It was not a sweet smile and Duncan groaned internally.  He had visions of Knackers being even more unkempt than usual; and then he thought of the smell and groaned out loud.

Fiona seemed to ignore all of this.  “Now, though ye might be a great champion,” she said waving a stubby finger under his nose.  “This may prove yer toughest battle yet.”  Her proper court speech was gone and each word became accented in an Irish country manner that Duncan struggled to understand.

“I will take whatever aide you can offer,” Duncan assured her.

“Ye see before she came I served another family…”  Her eyes grew misty as she looked over his shoulder and became lost in a memory.  She inhaled deeply and set into her long tale.

Fiona related the tale of the Murphy’s.  They had a fine sweet brood of children.  The house was filled with laughter and was alive then.  She told them how she would carefully tuck those sweet children into their beds every night and watch over them as they slept.  She had done her duty well and true and never left the Murphy’s until the last of them, the mistress of the house, died.  For decades the house was empty and with nothing to do, and feeling quite depressed, she fell asleep.

Duncan listened patiently to her long tale plucking out the pieces that seemed most important and ignoring the pointless remembered tales of the children when they were small and their silly, yet adorable antics.  He picked out hidden clues.  The house belonged to an immigrant Irish family that brought the old ways with them to the New World.  Such places where Fae magick existed were always a source of stronger magick and considered, by some “safe havens”; while others would consider them haunted or cursed.  Duncan also found it strange that a Bean Tighe would fall asleep in an empty house instead of moving on.  He had never heard of such a thing happening before.  Coincidences kept throwing themselves at his feet and he was starting to take notice.  But instead of providing answers they just created more questions.  Eventually she did find her way to the point of the tale and the one thing that Duncan learned from the long drawn out tale was that Fiona was fiercely loyal.

“Then,” Fiona said resting a pudgy hand on his thigh to make sure she still had his attention.  “A deep powerful voice spoke to me.  In the dream he spoke of the bhanphriosa.  I was ta wake up and set the house right.”

Duncan leaned forward, questions filled his mouth but he forced himself to stay quiet.  Even Knackers seemed to be paying more attention.

“Well, course I did as I was told.  I ‘ad slept too long and me bones ached.  But I scrubbed and polished that ‘ouse till it shone,” she said with a proud nod.  “I was honored, I was.  Me carin’ for royalty,” she said placing a shocked hand at her chest.  “But when she shows, she had the mortal look to ‘er.  I can see ‘er but ‘er eyes be blind ta me,” she said with a pitiful wail.  Tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks.  Duncan and Knackers glanced quickly at each other, neither sure what to do, and neither very comfortable around a crying woman.

Fiona reached into her clean white apron pocket and pulled out her lacy handkerchief.  She dabbed her watery eyes as Duncan attempted a comforting pat on her broad shoulders.

“I be alright,” she said waving her tear stained handkerchief at him.  She smiled gratefully at him and rested her hand on top of his, and all at once became serious again.  “It’s no’ right to enchant royalty, especially one so sweet and kind.  Only strong, malevolent magick could do that to the life spark.”

Duncan sat back, pulling away from Fiona.  “What makes you so sure she is the life spark?” he asked.

“I may be old but I’m no’ daft.  There is no’ one of the Otherworld, and mayhap a few wise mortals, who ‘ave no’ heard your tale Duncan,” she said with a hint of frustration.  “Sides, any and every Fae would recognize her enchanted or no’,” she stated emphatically as she crossed her chubby arms across her ample bosom.  “And,” she added squinting at him.  “Why else would you be here?”

Knackers chuckled softly but when Fiona’s angry glare shot his way he raised his hands in a sign of surrender.  Duncan stood quietly and walked to the window.  He gazed down at Annie’s small garden.  It was still early June and Annie’s garden was thriving with life.  His eyes wandered over the budding flowers, the thick green grass, spring flowers which should be well past their prime still stood strong and filled with life.  Midsummer flowers which should not bud for weeks were just beginning to bloom fully.  Even the meadowsweet she had planted earlier in the day seemed to have grown.

He sighed deeply.  Fiona was right, any Fae who met Annie would know who she was instantly, enchanted or not.  “Why send me then?” he whispered quietly to himself.

“What?”  Both Knackers and Fiona asked together.  Duncan glanced at both of them but directed his words to Fiona.  Knackers was questioning not what he said but rather why he had said it.  At the moment Duncan was not willing to explain anything to Knackers.

“I have one very important question for you and think hard on the answer,” he commanded quietly.  “Who was it that dream-spoke to you?”

Fiona leapt off the chair, puffed out her chest and stood proudly before him.  “Tis no need to think on it.  ‘E told me his name himself.  Twas none other than her father; the Son of Lir,” she said with a curt nod.

Duncan closed his eyes and Knackers let out a horrified gasp.  Rage boiled within Duncan.  His chest constricted as a deep sense of betrayal squeezed his lungs.  He stood statue still for what felt like hours while he battled for control over the emotions churning inside of him.  Betrayed by the one Fae he was absolutely sure he could trust.  His sword, Answerer, remained quiet and still.  Duncan did not need the sword to tell him that Fiona would speak nothing but the truth.  She had no reason to lie.  But Duncan wanted, no needed this to be a lie.  He could not bear to think about the consequences this would have not only to himself but to the rest of the Otherworld.  If the King, the Son of Lir, had stolen the life spark it would split the Seelie court in two destroying it from the inside out; and Duncan would lose a trusted friend and supporter.

“Ye sure it were the Son of Lir?”  Knackers asked astonished, his tail swishing behind him in agitation.

“Aye,” Fiona replied firmly.