Warstalker's Track (6 page)

“I know where he is,” Aife announced abruptly, with absolute conviction.

David lifted an inquiring brow. “Where?”

“I thought I knew earlier, but so much was occurring then that the memory fled. Indeed, it was a memory I did not know I possessed, but with the breaking of Lugh’s spell, others seem to have broken as well.”

David tapped his pencil against his pad…loudly.

Aife looked him straight in the eye as though daring him to command her to haste; some things rarely changed with Faery folk. “The Iron Dungeon.”

David scowled. “I’ve heard of an Iron
Road.
It’s a secret route into the bowels of the palace Lugh had built to guard his treasure. There’s also an Iron Stair.”

“Neither of which lie precisely in Tir-Nan-Og, else the iron would have eaten through,” Aife continued coldly. “But I speak of the dungeon Lugh’s queen had built without his knowledge to house a rival.”

David started at that. “Lugh’s…queen?”

Aife regarded him levelly. “Her name was Ainu. The Tracks sang to her one day and she…left. No one knows where she now resides—if she still lives. As I said, even Lugh does not know of the Iron Dungeon, but certain of Ainu’s women do—among them, my mother. She confided that knowledge to me, and I, in my foolishness, relayed that secret to the Sons of Ailill when I allied myself with their number.”

“I knew it!” Liz snapped. “You had to be one of them!”

Aife shrugged, though her eyes flashed dangerously. “That was when I thought Ailill hung the moon, kindled the stars, and enflamed the sun in the sky. Before I knew what true love was,” she added, clutching Alec’s hand tighter. “I have learned better since, else I would not be here now.”

David cleared his throat. “Okay, fine. But how can we be certain that Lugh’s in this Iron Dungeon? I doubt we’re gonna get a second chance to spring him.”

Aife’s jaw tightened. “When I was among the Sons, even then they discussed Lugh’s dethronement. That was the plan they laid out at that time. From what Elyyoth said, it must still be their intent, or near it, for their plot involved looking where Lugh did not: to mortal men and iron. Their thinking would therefore already have been of iron.” She paused for a sip of beer, wincing at the taste. “Too, something must block Lugh’s Power, or the spell that held me would not have failed, though in truth it did not slip away all at once. Few things could block such Power, but a shell of iron might, which could only be the Iron Dungeon.”

“Okay,” Liz inserted cautiously. “Assuming Lugh
is
prisoner in this Iron Dungeon—I presume you know where it is?”

“Close enough. I know which Track it lies upon—leads to it, rather.”

Liz cleared her throat. “Okay, then, next problem is how to get him out.”

“The same way they got him in,” Fionchadd replied. “They attacked Lugh where he had chosen to be blind; we attack them the same way.”

LaWanda frowned. “What you mean, Faery boy?”

“That the Sons will be expecting any response to come from Nuada, the remains of Lugh’s guard, and the old elite. They will not be expecting mortals any more than Lugh was. Certainly not mortal men with…iron.”

“Guns,” Scott crowed. “Of course!”

“And if Elyyoth’s right,” Myra mused, “they’re faster than even Faery reflexes, never mind Faery weapons. And do more damage, of course.”

A general muttering coalesced into a call for quiet from David. He looked first at Aife, then at Fionchadd. Gnawed his lip. “That means we’d have to…kill people?”

“The price of war,” the Faery shrugged. “The Sons accept it. You should as well.”

“The Sons are immortal!” Aikin flared. “We don’t have that luxury.”

“It is what you were designed for,” Elyyoth countered, speaking for the first time. “Like mayflies.”

“Okay,” David growled. “We’ll save that for later. Next question is: who is
we?
I mean, we can’t all go.”

“Right,” Liz agreed, looking back at her notes. “Way I figure, we oughta send as small a group as we can: harder to detect, if nothing else. Given that, we need as wide a range of skills as possible. Which means mortals
and
Faeries. Aife, for starters, since she knows the way to the Iron Dungeon. And—”

“Me,” Fionchadd broke in. “You have not decided how to get in and out, but I have an answer to that.”

“The ship!” Brock yipped from where he’d been drowsing in the corner. “Of course!”

Fionchadd nodded ruefully, then noted the puzzled looks on more than one set of faces. “Suffice it to say I have a means to take us straight there and back, if affairs proceed optimally.”

“You mean no overland treks, stealthing, and hiding?” From Aikin, who sounded at once disappointed and relieved. “Aye.” Then, to Liz, “Go on.”

“Okay,” she continued. “We send Finno and Aife, for Faery lore and magic. But it’d be good to send someone from another magic tradition, just in case.”

David elbowed Calvin in the ribs. “You up for it, Red Man?”

Calvin started. “Actually…I’ve got an errand in Carolina—some folks I need to check on. And another potential ally—if that’s okay.”

David had started to ask who when Brock spoke up from his corner. “I’ll go—and before you say no, remember who got you out of the Holes in the Seas!”

“Boy’s got a point,” Myra conceded. “We should be looking at skill and competency
only,
not species, sex, or age.”

David rolled his eyes and almost gnawed his pencil in two, but went on. “In any event, the rest of the folks need to be our best fighters.”

Aikin’s eyes narrowed. “Fighters? Or marksmen?”

“Both, ideally.” David surveyed the room. “Any volunteers?”

“Besides me and you?” Aikin shot back instantly.

“I’d love to go,” Sandy said. “But with school and all, I absolutely can’t. Not within your time frame.”

“I…can,” Myra hedged. “But I’d rather not.”

“And you can forget about Piper,” LaWanda snapped. “But I’ll go.”

David started. “You?”

“Can shoot with the best of ’em, white boy. ’Sides, I’ve got two or three dozen bones to pick over there. And,” she added for effect, “don’t forget my mojo.”

“Whatever,” David mumbled, blushing. “Alec, you don’t have to tell me this isn’t your game. Liz…I know you want to come, but maybe not this time.”

Liz nudged Alec. “Actually, we’ve…uh…got graduation.”

“Which you’d best attend,” Dale agreed. “Dave’s got a good excuse, and we all know what it is. But your folks and Alec’s—well, this ain’t the time to be explainin’ to them ’bout Faerie and all. We’ll cover for Davy if either of ’em calls. Say he’s sick or something.”

“Makes sense,” David agreed sadly. “But back to the plan: it’s me and Aik and LaWanda for armed support? Brock, can you shoot at all?”

“A…little.”

“I’ll go,” Dale volunteered.

“The hell you will!” JoAnne snapped. “What’re you thinkin’ about, old man? I can shoot as good as you!”

“Hush, woman,” Big Billy rumbled in turn. “But she’s right. More to the point, though, somebody who knows about all this shit needs to stay here and keep an eye on the Cove.”

JoAnne glared at him. “If you’re thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’…”

“I’m gonna go,” Big Billy stated firmly. “I’ve let the boy fight my fights too long, and this
is
my fight. I can shoot good as anybody here—’cept Davy and Aikin, I reckon. And I’m a-goin’ to go!”

David took a deep, troubled breath and once more surveyed the room. “Looks like a good solid core. Anybody else?”

Alec took a deep breath. “So what do the rest of us do?”

“Yeah,” Little Billy chimed in. “What about me?”

“You stay here,” David told him firmly. “And you watch him like a hawk, Ma, ’cause this is just too dangerous to have him chasin’ around. Dale, I’d love to have you, but Pa’s right; you need to stay here and keep things coordinated. Provide a bolt-hole like you’ve been doin’. Explain what you can to…anybody who needs to know.”

“I’ll do ’er,” Dale affirmed.

“And I
have
to stay here, dammit!” Scott spat. “Covert operations against Mystic Mountain and all that. Damage in the guise of damage control.”

“As for me,” Myra sighed, “much as I hate to say it, I have
got
to get back to Athens for a couple of days.” She looked at Piper, who hadn’t said a word throughout the entire discussion.
Poor guy,
David thought.
He hates this sort of thing even worse than Alec.
Still, this was a crisis situation; they needed people they could count on, not someone who’d curl up and go catatonic when the shit hit the famous fan.

David eyed Alec thoughtfully. “Uh, roomie, while you’re in Athens, could you pick up a couple of things for me?”

“What?” Alec asked dumbly, even as Liz’s face woke with recognition. “All the magic whatsis we’ve got left, right?”

David nodded. “From here on out, we’d better bring in the whole arsenal—every single thing any of us have that’s come from some other place.” He glanced at Calvin. “That means all your gear from Galunlati, too. Uktena scales, war clubs, everything.”

“I’m way ahead of you,” Cal laughed. “That’s one of my reasons for headin’ to Carolina.”

David studied Myra thoughtfully. “Any chance you could get down there and back before we leave? Or—Crap!” He looked at Fionchadd. “What kind of time frame are we on, anyway?”

“We
must
conclude everything before the Feast of Lugh.”

“Which is when?” LaWanda wondered.

“July 31,” David supplied automatically. “Folks nowadays call it Lughnasadh, if they call it anything.”

“A month and change, then,” Sandy mused. “That should buy us a little time.”

“If we don’t lose a bunch swappin’ Worlds,” Calvin retorted. “Things seem to be really screwy here versus there.”

“That variance is passing,” Fionchadd assured him. “But do not forget the Sons may act against this place at any time. And never doubt that they
will
act.”

“Speaking of which,” Aikin broke in. “Exactly what kind of heat should we be packin’?”

“Shotguns,” Big Billy offered instantly. “Better range, and you do maximum damage with minimum effort. Maybe some handguns for close-in stuff, plus they ain’t as bulky. Got a bunch of both,” he added. “One of each kind for everybody in the family: eight right there.”

“I’ve got a couple, too,” Aikin confirmed. “Could probably scrounge up one-two more.”

“Me, too,” Dale chimed in. “Plus my old .45 and Hattie’s derringer.”

“So what about this?” David began. “Everybody carries
something,
whether they can shoot or not, and we try to bring the newbies up to speed in transit. Everybody who
can
shoot takes a shotgun and something smaller as a spare, and we take all the ammo we can physically carry.”

“Knives, too,” Fionchadd suggested. “Steel ones, just in case.”

“What about clothes?”

“Faery garb would attract the least attention,” the youth replied. “There should be enough on the ship. Or we could englamour you, but that would take Power we might need elsewhere, and would be detectable by the skilled among my folk. The best approach would be to try to pass as Sidhe with mortal prisoners until we reach our goal.”

“How many guards you lookin’ for?” Aikin wondered.

Aife shrugged. “Not many, if luck favors us, for the Sons of Ailill are not many, only very dedicated and organized. They will have more than one agenda afoot.”

“What about the mortals they took over?”

Another shrug. “They
should
pose little trouble. Most will have been returned to this World or else have been ensorcelled, for it takes much Power to control another mind, even a mortal one.”

“Thanks a lot!” Calvin muttered.

“Truth is truth,” Aife shot back.

Silence ensued, as though everyone had chosen that moment to ponder the enormity of their undertaking. God knew David had little enough to say, in spite of the fact that he still had a day’s worth of questions, contingencies, and stratagems to bring up. Never mind the fact that he was tired to the bone. When
had
he slept, anyway? Back on the boat, between their arrival in the seas of Faerie and their return to the Oconee at Whitehall: twelve hours, maybe? Plus a catnap on the way up from Athens. Shoot, he was barely back from one fool’s errand and here he went on another! “Well,” he yawned finally, rising, and realizing to his surprise that he was sore, “what I suggest is that everybody who’s goin’ to Faerie get fed, clean up, and grab some shut-eye if you can; and everybody else chase down as many bangy-things as they can and meet back here in…an hour.” He glanced at Aikin. “That work for you?”

“Make it one-point-five,” Aikin countered. “I have
gotta
get a shower, but I can do that over at the folks’ place.
Guns’re over there anyway.”

Calvin laid a hand on David’s shoulder. “And, Dave, my man, I hate to say this, but now that the sun’s out, might be a good time for me to make tracks—’less you want me to hang around.”

“It’s cool,” David grunted, reaching over to give him a rough half-hug. “Just take care of yourself and give my regards to…whoever.”

“Right,” Calvin affirmed, then made the rest of his goodbyes and departed.

“So we’re basically lookin’ at noon?” David asked Fionchadd.

“Aye,” the Faery murmured, then stared at Elyyoth warily. “And what of you? What would you do in all this?”

The guardsman sighed wearily—like a mortal, David thought. “It is my duty to guard, to fight. But I am tired, so very tired…”

“Your strength will return soon enough,” Fionchadd assured him. “And if your duty is to guard, then guard you shall. It is likely the Sons, or others of their ilk, know already what transpires here. There may be attacks on this house in our absence. Such protection as you can afford, by weapon or Power, you should provide these folk. I would put on the stuff of this World, however.”

Elyyoth simply nodded.

David slumped down in the nearest chair. God, but he was fried! Too fried for any of this, frankly. He started to speak, but Fionchadd was already kneeling beside him. “Sorry, man,” David mumbled. “Just need to grab some Zs.”

“A bath,” Liz corrected. “You’re starting to smell a little ripe.”