Priestess Dreaming (An Otherworld Novel) (22 page)

Mistletoe let out a low whistle. “When you ask a question, you ask a question all right.” He shifted, crossing his right leg over his left. The movement tickled me—he was so light that it felt like a butterfly was on my knee.

“Some history you might not know and that I have a feeling Morgaine might choose to keep you from knowing. When she was young, she crossed over to Otherworld for a time. She met Bran, who was younger than he is now, but still an adult. He wanted her. She didn’t want him. She was in love with Arturo.”

“Where did Arturo come from? He’s human, isn’t he? He drank the Nectar of Life, didn’t he?”

Mistletoe stared at me. “You don’t know who he is?”

I glanced at Delilah, who shrugged. “Not really.”

“He is the Wounded King. He came out from the mists of Avalon with Morgaine after she sequestered him there to heal.” Mistletoe slapped his knee. “You really aren’t up on your history, are you?”

“History of Otherworld, yes—Earthside, not so much.” And then I realized what he was saying. “Arturo is . . .
Arthur
? As in
King Arthur
? There really was a King Arthur? You’ve got to be kidding me! Why doesn’t he remember who he is?” And then, another realization. “The Nectar of Life. She fed him the Nectar of Life and over the centuries, he’s forgotten. Like Tam Lin.”

Mistletoe nodded. “He was gravely wounded, and his son saved him. The stories and poems miss the mark. They were written long after the fact, like so much of history. Morgaine spirited him away when he was dying, but Avalon is a tricky place, and it’s easy to lose memory there if you are of human origin.”

“And Morgaine is half-Fae so she wouldn’t have that problem. Nor would she have the same problem taking the Nectar of Life. Fae side wins out there. Always has.” Just like it would win out when Delilah and I made the choice to drink. Our mother’s blood would not cause a problem because of our father’s heritage.

“Precisely.” Mistletoe shifted again, his wings fluttering in the light breeze that had cropped up. The temperature was dropping again and I shivered under my cloak, wishing I’d brought my blanket.

“So she brought Arturo to Otherworld? Mordred, too?”

Delilah interrupted, though. “Wait—Mordred. He’s Arturo’s son? Was he the one who tried to kill Arthur?”

“Yes, and no. He is Arturo’s son, but he did not try to kill him. That part of the story is wrong. In fact, Mordred saved his father’s life by killing the man who went up against him. Lancelot and Arthur fought over Gwenyfar. She was married off to Arthur without her permission. She and Lancelot were already in love. They got it on, were caught, and the result was a bloody nightmare of a battle. Mordred wanted his father’s throne, yes, but he loves Arthur, regardless of all his hunger for power.”

“So what does that have to do with Bran?”

“Mordred noticed Bran’s attraction to Morgaine while they were in Otherworld. She wasn’t interested. Bran pushed. Mordred got pissed off and he swore that if Bran didn’t back off, he’d fight him.”

“Well, that would have been suicide, fighting an Elemental.” Elementals were immortal—the only
true
Immortals. They couldn’t die, not permanently. Even the Black Unicorn had been reborn, but he was like the phoenix.

“Then what could Bran be holding over Morgaine?”

“That, I do not know. I’m simply telling you what I know of their history. If it can give you an insight, then I’m hoping I have helped.”

Mistletoe paused, then added, “I can tell you this: Raven Mother fears her son. I don’t know why, but after you sacrificed her consort, Lady Camille, Raven Mother threw Bran out of Darkynwyrd for a period of time. He had barely returned home when he was called over Earthside. And that is all I know—” He stopped as a noise rustled the bushes behind us.

I pressed my fingers to my lips and nodded to the nearest fern. Mistletoe immediately dove for cover. The next moment, Mordred was standing there, staring at Delilah and me.

“Are you quite all right?” Animosity oozed from every pore.

“Fine. Thank you.” I wasn’t about to offer him an explanation. What Delilah and I were talking about was none of his business. I sat there, cold but unwilling to move because he so obviously was waiting for us to stand up and follow him back to the camp.

After a moment, he let out a snort. “You should sleep. Morning will come early and my aunt says the going will be rough. We have a mountain to climb. I should think you want all your strength about you.”

I glanced at Delilah. He wasn’t going to leave without us, and he did have a point. “True that. We’ll be along in a moment.”

As Mordred turned, I slid my hand behind me and wiggled my fingers in the direction of Mistletoe’s fern. A quick poke in my backside told me he’d seen me and was saying good-bye in the only way he could without being noticed.

As we returned to the campsite, I glanced over at Arturo’s sleeping form. So we had a king in our midst. A king who had forgotten his name. The
Wounded King
, at that.

A sudden sadness swept over me. The great humans of history died so quickly. Or, if they managed to get hold of the Nectar of Life, it seemed to stretch them beyond their ability to retain their sense of self.

Which made me wonder . . . what would happen to Chase? He’d been given a thousand more years to live. It had been that or let him die. Now, he was wrestling with the concept of a life in which everyone he knew—among the FBH community—would be dead long before him.

Add to that, the Nectar of Life had brought to the surface some latent psychic powers and that he had recently found out he had a little sprinkling of elf in his far distant past, and he must feel like he was on a roller coaster. Would Sharah and his daughter be able to keep him from fading like Arturo or Tam Lin? Would Chase manage to cling to who he was?

All these thoughts raced through my mind as I stared at the sleeping lord who followed Morgaine like a lapdog. He was Mordred’s father, but did he even remember that? Did he remember his battle with Lancelot? Did he remember Gwenyfar? She must have been part Fae herself. Did he remember leading his people? Or was it all lost in the fog of centuries?

Delilah touched me on the shoulder and I looked up to see Mordred eyeing me. He had followed my gaze, and now was looking at me with speculation in his eyes. I stared at him, challenging him to ask.

But then a strange thing happened. A shadow crossed his face and his expression fell into sorrow. And for the first time, the cockiness and brashness seemed to fall away, and he wiped his sleeve across his eyes and turned away.

I watched him as he returned to his bed. Mistletoe had given us so much to think about. Including the fact that there might be sorcerers after me—or bounty hunters. If rumors were filtering through the streets that I was here, and if someone had leaked the fact that I had one of the horns, then they might be on our heels even now.

Morio was sitting up, on a fallen log. “I’m taking watch. Tanne will take second. I don’t trust that lot while we’re all sleeping.” He kept his voice low, but even so I saw Mordred cast a look our way before pulling his blanket tightly around his shoulders and rolling over.

I nodded, wanting to tell him what we’d learned from Mistletoe, but this wasn’t the place. However, in lieu of that conversation, I settled for saying, “Good idea. We may have someone on our trail, looking for my . . . toy.” I motioned toward my pocket. His gaze flickered and he nodded. “Will tell you more later, but it looks like someone planted a trail of breadcrumbs.”

“Understood. Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch in my demonic form. The best defense is a good offense.” And with that, he stood and shifted into his demonic form. The transformation always sent me into an awestruck silence—it was like watching someone you loved grow into a monster who could tear you limb from limb. I felt the same way when Smoky changed into his dragon form. They became so much
more
 . . .

As Delilah and I once again curled up on the ground, wrapping ourselves in our blankets, the silence of the night descended. I closed my eyes, trying not to think about how far away from home we were, or what might wait out in the darkness to come after us. We had survived the devastation of Elqaneve. Surely we could make it through the next few days.

By the time I woke up, it was morning and I felt just as tired—if not more—than when I’d laid down. I sat up, blinking. My body ached from the cold ground, and I felt like I’d been out on the astral but couldn’t remember anything. But I knew I wasn’t used to sleeping on the hard dirt, exposed to the cold, and that, plus being in a strange realm, was enough to interfere with a good night’s sleep. As I rolled to a sitting position, I let out a groan at a stitch that caught my side.

Morio, who was just waking up, squinted and rolled over.

Delilah had been setting out food for our breakfast, and now she hurried over. “You all right?”

I winced. “Just a slight muscle spasm. I think the cold got into me.”

Tanne, who was examining a nearby bush, reached out to offer me a hand up. I gratefully accepted his help and he pulled me to my feet. Delilah glanced over at Morgaine’s side of the camp. Mordred and Bran were nowhere to be seen, but our cousin was staring at me. She turned, though, back to Arturo, as he handed her something to eat.

I gazed at the sky. Something was coming. I could feel it in my bones and whatever it was made me both melancholy and hesitant. I brushed my hand across my eyes, feeling like I wanted to cry, but I didn’t know why.

“What’s wrong? Camille, are you all right?” Morio sounded worried, which just irritated me even more. Tanne lightly kissed my hand—pure politeness—and returned to examining the shrub.

“Sorry, I just feel short-tempered, and I don’t like sleeping outside. I have a premonition, but I can’t for the life of me tell you what’s up. I have a feeling . . .” But just as an elusive image crossed my thoughts, it was gone again. I shook my head. “I think I can feel the Hunt rising.”

“That means full moon isn’t far away. Morio, when I change, you’ll need to corral me in because Camille will be off on the Hunt.” Delilah frowned. “Why the hell didn’t they wait until afterward to send us?”

“Apparently the Fae Queens have their reasons, but yes, I wish they’d fucking tell us.” I paused, letting my words sink in.

“Well, there’s not much we can do now.” Morio motioned to the pack. “We need to eat. Whatever is nagging at you will have to wait.”

Delilah followed me over to a deadfall that was near where we had slept and sat beside me, handing me a sandwich and a bottle of water. I bit into the peanut butter and jelly, scarcely able to taste it.

“Do you want to talk? Maybe we can figure out what’s bothering you.” For once, someone else was asking the hard questions. I was usually the one reaching out.

I let out a long sigh, then took another bite of sandwich. It was a little stale but it was food, and right now, hunger won out over taste. “Everything just seems so mired in layer after layer of subterfuge. I don’t know who to trust anymore. This trip, Morgaine has been oddly . . . sane? I find myself trusting her lead and that, alone, scares the hell out of me.”

“Yeah, but look who else is along for the ride. Morgaine is the sanest of that bunch of nut jobs.” She handed me the water.

I took a long swig to wash down the crumbs of my sandwich. “I’m having a hard time reconciling what we were taught about the Great Divide with what we’re finding out now. We’ve got demons over Earthside and a demon’s pet over in Otherworld. Add to that, Yvarr and his kind emerging from the shadows.” Pausing, I mused over a question that had been needling me. “Who do you think is worse, Telazhar or Shadow Wing?”

“Shadow Wing, because he’s orchestrating it all.” Delilah leaned forward, wiping the crumbs off her hands onto her jeans. “Two years ago . . . even a year ago, I would have had trouble facing all this. I’ve changed, you know? And Queen Asteria’s death changed me even more. It was the first time I had to escort someone I loved through the veils. I think it hardened me.”

I shook my head. “No, it didn’t harden you. You toughened up, and lost what was left of that naïve little girl, but it didn’t make you hard. You’re still our Kitten. You still love your catnip mice and fleece toys and playing with string, and for that, I’m grateful.” I leaned against her shoulder. “Thank you for coming with me. I don’t think I could have dealt with Morgaine and her crew without at least one of my sisters here.”

Delilah smiled and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “We’ve
all
changed, Camille. You’re tougher than you were, and stronger. We’re all growing into whatever the future is holding for us, but we’ll
always
be sisters, and we’ll always be there for one another.”

I nodded, wiping a thin veil of mist from my eyes. “Damn it, I don’t need to be getting all sentimental here. We have a Druid to find.” I let out a long sigh. “I guess we’d better get moving. I just wish I felt less like a walking target.”

“Safety doesn’t exist in our world anymore. And you know what? I don’t know if it ever did.” She took my hand, swinging it as we walked back to camp.

“Safety is an illusion.” I picked up my blanket and rolled it up, noticing that Bran and Mordred had returned. “You can die in your bed if the ceiling caves in. Or the shower, or the garden . . .” The premonition still hovered in the back of my mind, but I was able to push it back for now. Because whatever it was, I knew it would find us sooner rather than later.

“Are you ready?” Morgaine approached. “We should head out. We’ve got a hard day’s walking ahead of us.”

I nodded. “We’re just about packed up. Five minutes and we’ll be set.” I hadn’t wanted to bring it up, but it occurred to me that the fact that someone might be following me would also put our mission in danger. I decided that I had to tell her. “I need to talk to you alone, but I want your word—on your honor—you won’t mention this to Bran or Mordred or Arturo unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

She gave me a puzzled look. “All right. Come, they won’t hear us over here.”

We sequestered ourselves below a large cedar tree, and there, I told her the bare bones. I didn’t tell her how I knew, but only that I’d heard rumors were filtering around that I was in the realm of the Elder Fae with the unicorn horn.

Her eyes glistened. Of course she knew I had the horn, but as far as I remembered, she’d never seen it, and I didn’t fancy showing her now. Morgaine craved power. The horn promised far too much of that for someone with her greed.

But she surprised me—she didn’t even ask to see it. “Then we must be even more cautious. If the Elder Fae catch wind of it, then we’re in far more danger than anybody tracking you.”

“True, that. Yannie Fin Diver sensed it and came after me. We barely escaped from him. But . . . there are those closer who wouldn’t mind having this artifact.” I was talking about Bran, but Morgaine’s nostrils flared and she looked like I’d insulted her.

“Don’t worry yourself. I’m not going to steal your toy from you, girl. I may envy you, and I find your lack of foresight distressing, but I will never steal what is rightfully yours. I have, at least,
that
much honor.” The words rang true, even with the speculative look she gave me.

Deciding that, given the confrontation between Morgaine and Bran, she might prove more ally than hindrance, I decided to set her straight. “I wasn’t talking about you. Bran envies me. He is angry that his father has never seen fit to gift him with the horn and the hide.”

Morgaine let out a loud snort. “The Black Beast knows what he’s doing. Bran, given one of the horns? We would all regret that mistake. Do not trust him. Do not believe him. He twists words, uses truth as a weapon, and is not above using secrets as fodder for blackmail.”

I started to ask her what he had on her, but then decided it was neither the time nor the place. I didn’t want to push her buttons, especially when we were forging an uneasy truce.

“I don’t think there’s much danger of me trusting him any farther than I can throw him. We’d better get back. I just wanted to warn you.” And with that, we returned for the others, and headed out on the path.

*   *   *

We’d walked for a good three hours along the never-ending woodland, keenly aware of every sound and movement that rustled from within the forest. Every time we flushed a bird out of the bushes, one of us jumped. By the time we came to another open field, I was happy to leave the forest behind. Too many chances for ambush, too many places for the enemy to hide.

Bran had kept mostly to himself, which was a blessing. Better he ignore us than shower us with his dubious attention. Mostly, I kept close to Morgaine and Morio. At one point, I realized that I was traveling with three people whose names started with
M-o-r
. Laughing aloud, I startled the others.

“Something funny?” Morio grinned at me.

I cleared my throat, realizing that if I told him what I was thinking, it would sound totally lame. “Just my mind wandering off on its own.”

The sky was rippling with the faint glow of sunlight behind the clouds. We had started off at the first hint of dawn. Now, the breaking light showed us the vast swath of grassland that we were in. But the grass was darker here, and the land felt more menacing. Maybe it was that we were farther into the realm of Fae, or just that I was noticing the energy more.

I paused, motioning for the others to stop and closed my eyes. There was something on the wind. Something was coming our way. I reached out to see if I could discover what it was.

Cloaked in a swarm of bees and the stinging of wasps, it was big and vicious. Hive mentality ruled, and the over-mind was looking for an outlet for its anger. Whatever it was, it had been riled up and was out to vent its irritation on somebody.

“We’ve got company coming. I think it’s a swarm . . . and yet . . . more. There’s a cunning intelligence behind whatever it is. One creature with many bodies. Something that can swarm and sting.”

Morgaine raised her hands and closed her eyes. A moment later, she nodded. “You’re right, and it’s coming in fast.”

Tanne pushed forward. “I’ve dealt with creatures like this in the Black Forest. They’re deadly, and you’re right that they have a hive mind.”

Lovely. Just what we needed. But we still weren’t sure exactly what we were dealing with. Hornets? Bees? Some other insect? While it was well-known that animals swarming together exhibited much more complex behavior than individuals, this was something else.

“How do we fight this? Is there a way to disrupt the magic that brought them together as a creature?” If we could scatter them, maybe we’d have a better chance of avoiding a mass attack.

Tanne frowned. “Well, if they’ve been magically bound together, my Spell of Unraveling might work. I can’t guarantee it, of course. But the trouble is, I need to be close to the creature to cast it. And if the spell doesn’t work, I’ll be prime target for its attack. I’m not sure I want that dubious honor.”

“We need a giant can of Raid.” Delilah shaded her eyes as she walked to the edge of the path. “I can’t see anything, but that means squat.”

“Fire.” Bran stepped up beside her. “Fire will always drop a hive. The smoke. But we’ll have to build a damn big one, and lure that thing into it. Either that or we resort to carrying torches till we’re well away from it.”

“Fire isn’t such a bad idea, actually.” I would have been happier if anybody but Bran had thought of it, but now was not the time to begrudge the message, regardless of how much I disliked the messenger.

“We need to move fast,” Morgaine said. “I can feel the buzzing in my bones and there are tens of thousands of . . . wasps . . . yes—wasps—in the hive-monster.”

“Grab whatever you can that will burn. Does anybody have any magic that produces flame?” I had the firebombs I’d stolen from Roz, but it seemed smarter to keep them for later, if somebody else could ignite the fire. Magical flame burned hotter than regular fire and worked against enchanted creatures better.

Tanne shook his head. “Not me. I don’t work with the element much.”

Morgaine and Bran both dissented, too. Mordred didn’t even open his mouth and I realized that, although he was part Fae, he didn’t work with magic like his aunt. He was more pretty-boy brawn.

Delilah pulled out a lighter. “I guess we go with a BIC.”

Firebombs it was, then.

“No, I’ve got something. I was planning on keeping it in reserve, but I think we need it now. Gather all the kindling you can.” I stopped, shading my eyes. “There’s the creature!”

What had seemed to be a shadow on the horizon was now rapidly approaching. From where we stood, it looked like it was a swirling mass of color, but was actually tens of thousands of wasps creating the bipedal form.