Free Song of the Fairy Queen by Valerie Douglas Page A

not stay in any one place too long, not with them scrying for him. A still target was easy to hit, a moving target wasn’t.
    So he wouldn’t be still.
    Morgan and Jacob had only just arrived, having taken only enough time to bathe while they could. They took their meal as they gave their reports.
    Listening, Oryan looked at the intelligence piled on his desk.
    If nothing else had convinced him of the necessity to fight, it was those.
    Haerold was already instituting the harsh strictures he’d always advocated, rescinding many of Oryan’s policies. He’d restored the practice of conscription and levied new taxes on farmers and tradesmen.
    “Delaville,” Oryan said. “I can’t say I’m surprised. He always loved the things gold could buy.”
    Sighing, he turned to Kyri.
    “Have you ever heard of anything like these things?” he asked, knowing her long-lived people might have heard of things his records didn’t show.
    Searching through the memories of all those who had come before her, Kyri shook her head.
    The images she caught from Morgan and Jacob’s thoughts were enough to make her shiver inwardly.
    “No,” she said, “not even tales of them. Either they come from far outside our borders, or they’re a new thing. A creation of magic.”
    That thought worried her.
    They all looked at her.
    Helplessly, she spread her hands. “It’s wizard’s magic, not a thing of the Fair. We know little of such things, but there have been tales of other such – lesser animals given life, intelligence and abilities they shouldn’t claim.”
    “This, though,” she said, and shook her head. “I don’t know. It appears to have gone the other way, men being given abilities they shouldn’t have. After all, why not the reverse?”
    Her wings fluttered a little. It was the only clear sign any of them had of her agitation. And proof, perhaps, of what she said.
    She, too, was a creature of magic.
    “From what we hear most people with magic have gone into hiding, save for a few herb women,” Morgan interjected. “We’ll have to see if we can find someone, maybe a wizard who could tell us more. If we could find one.”
    “We’d had other reports of something like this from other parts of the Kingdom,” Oryan said, “but I chalked it up to the ferocity of the attacks. Haerold has consolidated his forces, so he’s preparing to march, but we just don’t know where. Although it’s likely he’ll turn here. I’ll send word to Dorset to prepare or surrender, his choice. We simply don’t have the forces even with his levies to make a stand. Not yet. I’d sooner not have people die for no reason. It’s not surrender to choose to fight another day.”
    “No,” Morgan agreed, “it’s not.”
    Oryan paced to the windows.
    It was truly lovely out there. Patchwork farmland curled away from the gentle rise of the mountains at his back. The farm folk brought their herds to water at the lake to the east and south.
    It was a shame he couldn’t give it the attention it deserved.
    He wouldn’t bring war here until and unless he had a chance of winning it.
    “Morgan, are you staying?”
    Nodding, Morgan said, “My people could use the rest.”
    It had been a long hard ride north and west through the mountains above and beyond Caernarvon, around Remagne, dodging Haerold’s men. Easier and shorter than taking the southern route, though. Everyone was tired. If their plans went ahead, sleep would be a rarity. Best to take their rest now while they could. It might be the last time he or they would sleep in a bed for a very long time.
    In the pastoral silence they all heard the regular sound of a cob’s hooves clopping on the hard-packed dirt of the long shady tree-lined avenue outside, bringing them out to the broad veranda, Morgan’s hand on his sword.
    Kyri’s hand brushed his lightly, tingling.
    “I heard no word,” she said, softly. “I would’ve known.”
    Her people watched from above.
    The old man rode out of the