The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance

Cat Adams The Trials of Bryan Murphy

The 9th of October was drawing to a close, the last rays of sunset tinting the sky with shades of red and purple as the first stars twinkled. The temperature had dropped enough that the air was crisp, with just enough of a breeze to send the fallen leaves skittering across the ground. The security lights at the construction site flared to life, basking the parking lot in a flat, orange glow. There’ll be frost tonight.

Bryan zipped up his leather motorcycle jacket. He bent down and picked up a pair of stray nails. They were old, very old, not at all what they were using on this project. The heavy rust that encrusted them and their square heads told him they must have been dug up when laying the foundations. He tucked them into his jacket pocket. It wouldn’t do to leave them on the ground in the parking area. Someone would be sure to be getting a puncture.

Pulling on his helmet, he sent a thought to his wife. «I’m headed home. Get ready. Remember the party is tonight, we’re due at the pub.»

He heard her mental snort like a caress of air across his mind. «As if I’d forget. Just get you home in one piece. I’ll be ready when you arrive.»

Smiling, he climbed on to his old bike and kicked the starter. There was a time he didn’t believe in magic — couldn’t imagine he could share his innermost thoughts with one person. But then he’d met Bridget and everything changed. With a twist of his wrist the engine roared and he was headed home.

It wasn’t a long drive, only a few minutes if he obeyed the speed limits. But when he was halfway home he felt something. wrong. His heart lurched, and he fed more gasoline to the engine. «Bridget. Bridey?» He called to her in his head, but her voice, the voice that had always been so clear, was the barest echo.

«NO! I won’t! I don’t want to go! NO! BRYAN!!!»

Panic raced through him as coarse hands grabbed his wife and tugged her out of their cottage. Their home. «I’m COMING!» He opened the throttle full out, and the bike leaped forwards. The powerful engine roared, in defiance he drove with blurring speed, avoiding every pothole in the road from memory, his body crouched over the bulk of the bike to cut wind resistance. The scenery blurred, and still he tried to make it go faster.

Their house was ahead, and in the distance he saw the faint outline of tall, pale, horsemen, seemingly in ancient armour of light and shadow. There were humans thrown across each saddle like so much luggage, men and women, seemingly oblivious to their undignified position. Only one fought, struggled against her captor, her red hair seeming to blaze with her fury under the yellow light from the lamps.

Bridget!

She heard his thought, and her head turned. Her captor followed her abrupt gaze. Eyes flashing ruby red beneath his helm. His long white hair seeming to flare and float in response to his agitation. Bryan could see his lips move. In response, the raid of the fae, for that had to be what it was, leaped into the air. Their horses’ manes flickered and sizzled with energy as they flew home towards their sithen mound.

The motorcycle was a street bike. It had never been designed for trails, but it didn’t matter to Bryan. He had to catch up to them. If they got to the mound, took Bridget inside, she’d be lost to him for ever. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, let that happen. Sheer desperation made him reckless. If the ride killed him, so be it. He’d rather be dead than live without her.

Branches slapped at him, tore at his jacket, the bike bucking and jarring beneath him as he wove through the underbrush. It would be trashed after this, he knew it. But whatever. Just let it get him there, and in time. He didn’t dare look up, couldn’t take his eyes off the path he was weaving through the darkening woods, but he could feel her, still fighting — and her struggle was slowing the horse, so that her captor’s fellows rode faster, passing him by until he was the last in the line.

Up ahead there was a clearing. Through the leaves he saw pale figures and horses descend, moving down and through the seemingly solid wall of the mound in single file.

Bridey’s rider was last in line to enter the sithen, but as Bryan’s bike broke through the brush near the mound her captor finally passed through.

«NO!» Bryan roared his defiance, opening the throttle full out, forcing the damaged machine into one last charge, aiming for the narrowing crack that had served as the sithen entrance. He didn’t even hesitate, hitting it hard and fast. He’d either catch the last of the magic or be killed trying.

Pain, and more than pain, a lurching wrongness as if space and time itself shifted, and he was through, and on to pavement as smooth as glass.

He didn’t correct quickly enough from rough to smooth and the bike skittered then slid out from beneath him as he lost control. He let go as he went down, not even noticing as his body slammed hard against unforgiving stone. His jacket took the brunt of the damage, but he still saw stars. The screaming shriek of metal scraping over stone filled his senses as a shower of sparks erupted. The motorcycle crashed into the mound with a sickening crunch of metal that made the roaring engine sputter and die.

Bryan staggered to his feet, bloodied but unbowed he turned to face the crowd of armed Fae and their captives. Bridget broke loose with a fierce yank that forced her captor to his knees. She threw her arms around Bryan — weeping, but proud. So proud. He could feel it in his mind, in his very veins. «Oh, Bryan. Love, you’re hurt. And you shouldn’t have. But oh-thank-God you did!»

«Nay, you shouldna. She’s right in that.» A tall man, otherworldly in gleaming armour formed of light itself, stepped forward. He drew a sword from its scabbard, and if his armour was light, then the blade was darkness itself. «And you shall pay for the insult.»

A harsh laugh bubbled out of Bryan before he could stop it. «You speak of insult? A common thief, ye are — stealing a wife as you might fruit from a tree. You’ve no honour to be damaged.» Bryan shoved his wife behind him. He had no weapon, but he’d protect her with his body to his last breath.

The eyes of the swordsman began to glow with red-hot anger, so bright it tinted his hair. The fae advanced, blade forwards in a thrust position. There was nowhere to run that wouldn’t endanger Bridget, so Bryan held his ground stubbornly. Perhaps being run through with a sword in the fairy world wouldn’t hurt as bad.

The fae raider’s arm moved back to strike, the finely honed bicep readying for the blow. A light trembling took over in Bryan’s muscles, a product of his flight instinct being overwhelmed by his need to protect his wife.

He thought back to just a week before, when he’d found her crying quietly at the stove, dripping salty tears into the cabbage stew. He touched her face, wiping away tears in those beautiful polished-copper eyes and smiled. «Aye, and what’s troubling you, lass?»

Her voice was so sad when she spoke that it nearly broke his heart to hear the sound. «Promise you won’t forget me when I’m gone.»

«Pshaw. And what makes you think you’ll be going anywhere? Or that I’d let you leave me?»

She had shaken her head, and the tears fell anew. «They’ll come, and I’ll go. But promise you won’t forget.»

«As if I could,» he remembered saying, and kissed her on the tip of her freckled nose, and on those perfect lips, before carrying her down the hall to make the tears disappear altogether. She quieted after their lovemaking, but he knew she didn’t believe him.

Now her hand tightened on his arm, a warning. Be still, Bry. Say not a word. You hear me? You just keep still.

«Halt.» A woman’s voice barked the order, but even that one harsh word was beautiful.

The crowd of warriors parted, heads bowing as the fae woman approached.

«What have we here?» The whisper slithering through the stone hallway like a frigid wind. She was beautiful, unearthly beautiful, with hair of winter white flowing in waves nearly to her ankles, skin like poured milk and eyes the colour of a midnight sky flecked with the cold sparkle of stars. Her dress was midnight as well, clinging to every delicate curve to pool on the floor, sparkling with crystal beads that glittered and made musical sounds as she moved.

It was Bridey’s turn to protect him. Bridey, with her hair of fire and earthy warmth pulled him away and protected him, bringing him to himself. Because, Lord help him, he’d been moving towards the woman and her frigid beauty, without so much as knowing he was doing it.

«What have we? True love, betwixt our own blood and a wayward human? How. touching.» The woman’s voice was harsh now, like the cracking of ice on a night empty of warmth or stars. Actual frost began forming on the stones around them, and Bryan could see his breath misting in the air.

«He invaded our sithen, dared to bring cold metal into our midst.» The one with the sword had not sheathed it, and would have raised it.

But again the cold beauty stopped him. «I told ye halt.» She snarled and did something Bryan could feel, but not see. The fae horseman struggled against the power, but it held him fast. Turning her back on him dismissively, she stepped in front of Bryan and Bridey.

Her voice was calm, reasonable — as she would speak to a child. «She is his. This raider found her, and took her. You could go. An’ should I release you, none here could gainsay it.»

Go? Go. to leave his love with these. creatures? He found his voice, even as Bridget gasped and dug in her perfect nails. His utterance was cracked and full of fear, but there was no other answer to give. «No. We go together, or not at all.»

The fae woman smiled. The beauty of it took his breath away, but it was a cold, harsh, beauty — the beauty of the ice storm that glitters and sparkles like diamonds as it freezes the very blood in your veins.

He repeated it, so none would be confused. «Bridget is my wife, bonded by blood and flesh. She alone is my queen, and she stays with me.»

His words were not casual. The Queen, for that’s what the fae woman must be to hold warriors back in such a manner, paced forward. Bridget had talked about her fae heritage — the time spent at court with the other halfling children while her fate had been decided. She’d been ejected from the sithen and had come to live among the humans.

The Queen’s eyes raked Bridget in frank appraisal, from the tangled mess of red curls, to the bleeding soles of her feet. For just an instant Bryan saw his wife as the fae Queen saw her — so pathetic. so human. Of the blood, but not blood. Worthy to be nothing but a slave.

Bridget saw his thoughts, and tears filled her bright eyes to trace silver tracks down her cheeks. She started to pull away, her features pained and defeated. But it was that pain, those tears that reached him, breaking through the delicate magic that had ensorcelled him without him even guessing it.

Bryan pulled her close so that they stood together once again. «She is my queen. No other.»

The Queen hissed with displeasure, and a frigid wind hit the pair of them like a blow, stealing the breath from their lungs. Bridey’s hair flew back like a snapping banner, her body shivered against Bryan’s from a bitter cold that should like to freeze them both.

«An’ what would you do to save this fae halfling of yours? Would you face the trials?»

Another gasp from Bridget, but any words of warning dissolved in her delicate throat as she stopped mid-word. He turned to look at her lovely face, saw the expression of fear, frozen in place as surely as an insect in amber. He understood her worry. No, he was not so tall as some and was built slender and wiry. He was a head and a half shorter than the smallest of the fae raiders. But he was tough, born of ancient warrior stock. And while there were a few foolish enough to start trouble with him, they only did so once. He nodded, and saw pride flicker in her golden eyes. «Aye. If I must.»

«So must it be.»

«Three trials is our tradition. An’ he has faced two already.» If the Queen was ice and darkness, her king was fire and light. He stood tall and proud, three handspans taller than Bryan. His hair was a red that put Bridey’s to shame, lit with sparks that looked like molten gold, a perfect match for the colour of his eyes. His clothing was the blinding yellow-white of noonday sunlight, his magic was the heat that could make skin scorch at a whim.

The Queen’s head snapped around as she turned to face her consort. «Two? No. How so, milord?»

He stood, pacing a slow circle around Bryan, who lay bound hand and foot in the stone dining hall.

«The sithen was closing, turning to stone before him. The first trial was when he faced his death, rushing forwards, refusing to turn back and let us have her.»

The Queen acknowledged that by a glance at the ruined motorcycle, already knee deep under fragrant flowered vines. The King squatted down beside them, bound as captives on a long banquet table where the other fae ate and made merry. Bryan was forced to close his eyes against the glare. The stone beneath his cheek began warming, until it was almost painfully hot.

«The second trial, my love»— his voice seemed to crackle at his displeasure with the sound of flames «—was when ye used thy magic to ensorcell him. He left her not, came to ye not. Have ye lost thy. touch?»

Her blue eyes turned from diamond to lava at the insult. «I put no effort behind the sorcery. I was merely toying, not actively trying to bewitch him.»

The King laughed, and his lady frowned. «When I took ye to my side, thy least effort would charm the birds from the trees to become as cold as death in thy hand. Yet ye would have us believe ye used less magic on an interesting human who braved the fury of the fae with naught but two tiny bits of iron, than on a bird?»

She didn’t respond for a long moment — just tapped one pale finger on her dark gown. The other fae watched the interaction with interest. So much so that they stopped their meal to stare with wide, sparkling eyes. Bryan didn’t understand the politics and Bridey was lost to him for comment. She remained immobile under her bonds, and he could not feel the touch of her mind on his. He was alone, as solitary in his own head as the day before he met her.

«Then, what shall his third trial be?» the Queen asked coldly. «I assume you’ve come up with something suitable?»

«I believe I have.» He leaned back into the soft leaves of the tree that had woven itself to be a throne. The branches caressed him lightly, brushed the tangles from his hair and gently massaged his shoulders as he regarded them both. With a wave of his hand, Bryan felt the bonds on his ankles and wrists release.

Always show respect before the court, but not fealty. Never let them own you by your own acts. Bridget’s words came back to him. He hoped beyond reason that the many stories she’d told while cradled in his arms in their bed would serve him well. Bryan swung his legs off the table and stood. He dusted off the bits of food that the fae had carelessly tossed at him, before approaching the throne. He dropped to one knee but kept his head unbowed and his eyes steady on the King’s golden ones as he waited for the next words.

It raised more than just the King’s brows. Murmuring started behind him, in a language he didn’t recognize. It made him understand that the discussion between the King and the Queen was meant for his ears. Interesting.

«What is thy name, human? What shall we call ye?»

Such a simple question. But Bridget’s words again whispered in his memory. Words have power. such awful power, among the fae, Bry. Names had to be held close, dear to one’s heart. What power might they hold over him if they knew his given name? He felt a smile try to escape, but he put out words to ease the flow of lips over teeth. «I answer to many things, Highness. But human will do as well as any other. I wear the badge of my kind proudly and hold the word dear in my heart not as insult but as high compliment. I wish to be called Human.»

«We insist on your name!» The Queen sounded petulant, a small child denied a toy. But the King merely nodded, amused at his response.

«I asked what he wished to be called. He has answered. Very well, Human. I offer ye the opportunity to take a third and final trial. Understand that if ye accept, ye must complete the trial, or die trying. If ye refuse, ye may leave, but your woman canna. What say ye?»

What could he say? The only answer that existed in his mind and heart was: «I accept.»

«Without even knowing what the trial is?» The question was leading, but how many times had Bridget cautioned him to make his word his bond, and the truth his word?

He rested one arm on his knee and raised his head up even more proudly, not caring to push away the unruly dark curls that spilled over his brow. «The manner of the trial matters not, Highness. The queen of my heart is worth any price, no matter how difficult or high.» Now he let a small smile curl up one corner of his mouth. «I must presume that a noble of your obvious intelligence and integrity would make the trial at least possible for one of my kind to achieve.»

The fae are proud creatures. Compliments to them are like sugar water to a hummingbird. Many are addicted and come to expect them after a long life. Bryan watched as the words had the expected reaction. The King puffed and straightened his shoulders while his queen let out a small growl of annoyance. «Of course it is possible. But hear this, Human. Pretty words will not help ye in thy quest. Only courage, wits and strength of will and body.» He raised a hand. «Elwich, come forth.»

The fae of the long hair and armour of light stepped to the throne and bowed his head. «Aye, milord?»

«I have decided ye will race Human. His dispute is mostly with ye and the prize ye claimed in the outside world.»

Bryan felt air on his tongue as his jaw dropped. How exactly was a race possible against a fae? The raider smiled slyly. «To where shall we run, milord?»

But now the King settled back in his seat and laced fingers over his flowered vest. «’Twill not be a race on foot, but on steeds.» He flicked his eyes Bryan’s way. «’Tis possible, aye? Much depends on your selection. Ye will each choose a horse from among all we possess. Human will carry his heart’s queen to the cave at the top of the nearest peak, where the crown stars grow.» Now the blazing eyes moved to the fae, who was likewise shocked. «Elwich, ye will carry my wife and consort, Hermetia. The goal is simple. The first one to reach the cave and crown their queen wins. The loser. dies.»

Queen Hermetia chuckled low and Bryan finally felt fear in his heart. How could he hope to defeat a fae warrior and the Queen of all the fairies in their home world? But at least he had Bridget. She knew this world and their ways.

The Queen stood and started towards the horses confidently. But she hadn’t taken two steps before she completely froze in place. She pitched forwards and had not Elwich leaped up to grab her, she would have hit the ground face first. The fae warrior looked up at the King, stunned as both his and the queen’s armour dissolved into so much dust.

«But this is a test of more than just horsemanship, as I said. If Human has no magic, then neither shall ye. When my fair lady queen awakes, she will be powerless and voiceless, as will Human’s fiery halfling. But each woman has a personal knowledge and ye must watch and listen to learn what they can teach. I’ve found that true love can often be a. burden on those who are possessed by it. It robs one of common sense, and magic ability.» The King glared at the white-haired fae and ice painted his words as surely as if he was born of winter. «Isn’t that correct, Elrich?» The King raised an arm and he and the other fae disappeared into a puff of smoke, but his words continued to fill the air. «Have a care, warriors. Let no harm befall your beloveds or face my wrath. I will be watching thy progress and will tolerate no trickery.»

Beloveds? Was the King claiming his consort was loved by another — not true to him? But no matter. That was a matter of politics and none of his concern. Bryan raced to Bridget’s side to find her bonds were loose. She was pliant and could move her face to smile and mouth the words he’d heard so many times — I love you. The look on her face said more than words ever could, though, and he was warmed and made certain of his purpose.

But she could utter no sound and seemed terribly weak. «Ah, Bridey. Queen of me heart,» he said softly, meaning every word. «I told you I would never let them take you. We’ll be at home before the stew has finished boiling.»

He picked her up easily and she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck. They raced to the horses that were tethered nearby, and he found it strange they were first to the steeds.

The horses tossed their fiery manes as Bryan and Bridget approached. The closer they got, the more agitated the horses became. First backing and pulling on their reins, and then rearing up to kick with their stone hooves hard enough to raise sparks. Bryan stepped away, baffled. How was he to ride one of these beasts?

But then he felt Bridget’s hand on his shoulder. When he looked, she was shaking her head. She lifted her arm and pointed past the horses. But there was only dense undergrowth ahead. Was she suggesting they forgo the horses? «No horse?»

Her mouth moved and he concentrated to understand the words she was saying. «Iffer orz?» She shook her head, not so much angry as frustrated. She slowed down her movements and he mocked the motions with his own lips. «Ifferent. Oh! Different horse! Not one of these?» She smiled. Well, the King had said any horses we possess, so he presumed they weren’t limited to the ones at the tether. She raised her arm again, and it gave him an idea. He lifted her hand to support her arm and he pointed one of her fingers, moving it slowly until she nodded.

Yes, just through the lush flowers, he could see a building. Without a second thought, he raced into the distance hand in hand with Bridget. From behind him, he could hear Elwich reach the horse line. The warrior’s laugh taunted him as he left the horses behind. «Fool! Ye have no chance now.»

Sure enough, he turned and discovered that the horses were disappearing into smoke. All except the massive black stallion with a sparkling blue mane that Elwich and his queen rode. Although it could hardly be said the Queen rode. Elwich had thrown her indignantly across the saddle, as he had with Bridget. The steed reared back in displeasure at the two passengers, but leaped into the air with a rush of wind that nearly pushed Bryan and Bridget to the ground. Bryan turned his worried face to meet his wife’s eyes, but she only smiled and raised her arm again.

Had Bridget ever talked of horses? Wait! Yes, she had! I called him Neverwhere, because he was never where he was supposed to be and wouldn’t do as he was told. He would just suddenly appear and want to be ridden, already saddled. His hair was whiter than snow, with a coppery mane that was the same colour as mine. He allowed no other rider than me, and none could abide that — for a halfling to own the heart of the fastest of stallions. So deadly was he that they kept him away from the others for fear of breeding his stubbornness by accident.

But if he allowed no other. no, he wouldn’t consider that. He trusted Bridget, at whatever cost.

The paddock was quiet as they approached, but then a wind pushed them forwards. An eerie sound began from within the building: it was part scream and part battle cry. Bryan’s blood chilled in his veins and every hair on his body stood at attention. Yet Bridey was smiling with a child’s trust and love and he couldn’t help but be strengthened by her reaction.

As they approached the building, she began to look around. He stopped and waited, happy to abide her desire, and frankly fearing getting closer. She pointed towards a hawthorn bush nearby. Was he to cut a branch? They were sacred, not to be harmed. Surely she wouldn’t suggest such a thing. Then she mouthed, Under, and he looked down. He set her carefully on the ground near the bush. She began to snap off thick toadstools and motioned for him to do the same. That’s right! He remembered the story now. He loved me best because I knew how much he loved the mushrooms. They locked him up so he couldn’t eat them because they made him tipsy, like drinking butter beer. But he did love them and would do anything I asked for even a wee piece.

He started snapping off the thick mushrooms until she motioned for him to stop. He stuffed them in his pockets and followed where she led. As they approached the door, he could hear the maddened screams turn to snorts and then snuffles before being finally replaced by an excited snicker. It was no small trick to open the heavy paddock door but with her help the hinges gave way.

The steed was amazing to behold. It was easily half again larger than the other horses, of a white so bright it made him squint. «He’s a fine one, he is. Just as you described him, love.» Bridget smiled at him and then held out her arms to the horse. The beast came as far as the massive iron bars would allow, stretching its neck so she could run her wrist along his nose. But then the horse’s attention was drawn to Bryan. The eyes flashed with a copper glow and it bared teeth unlike he’d seen in the mouth of a grass-eater. They were the teeth of a shark, rows of curved and vicious incisors that could easily cut flesh to ribbons. It lunged forwards, and would have taken a chunk from his arm if he hadn’t moved quickly enough. Instead of reacting with fear, Bridget actually reached out and slapped the beast with the side of her hand.

It reacted more with surprise than anger, but cocked its head like a curious dog when she reached her arms around Bryan and held him tight. She kissed his face over and over, tiny touches of her lips that made him weak-kneed. Then she smiled at the horse and patted his jacket.

«Oh! That’s right. I have a treat for you, Neverwhere.» Bridget beamed that Bryan had remembered the horse’s name and even the steed looked interested. He pulled out a few mushrooms and placed them on her upturned palm.

Oh, how that tail flipped with joy! It sent sparks dancing into the room. Neverwhere ate them one at a time, savouring them like the finest delicacy. His mane shook and his whole body shuddered in pleasure before taking another with the same gentle action. After the third mushroom he licked her hand to get the last taste, making her giggle wordlessly. Seeing the two friends together — Bridget and her horse — made him realize how very hard it must have been for her to be rejected from this life, this world. There were things here he couldn’t give her in the outside world. The intelligence in the eyes of this animal said it was more than a mere beast of burden. He was a pet, a friend, and possibly more. Bryan had no idea whether Fae steeds were sentient, but he wouldn’t be at all surprised if Neverwhere started spouting poetry for Bridget’s pleasure.

Bridget motioned for him to offer more of the mushrooms to the horse. If he really did get tipsy, he didn’t want to give the animal too many, but it was a fairly large horse, so it should be able to manage a few more. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another of the tiny, fragrant treats. «Would you like another, Neverwhere?»

Bryan reached his arm forwards slowly, his hand still closed into a fist. He liked his fingers a little too well not to be cautious. The horse eyed his closed fist with distrust but looked back to Bridget who nodded and smiled. The horse snuffled the fist, the breath feeling as hot as the air from a furnace. Then it started moving its lips, trying to get the fist to open. The tail was moving again, showering Bryan in golden sparkles that made him laugh. Finally he opened his hand and the horse ate the mushrooms, just as carefully as it had with Bridget.

As he pulled back his hand, the bright eyes of the horse followed, hoping for another taste. Bryan was quite sure that Neverwhere would have leaped forwards and torn the jacket from his body if he thought there were more mushrooms hidden. He heard a thumping sound and realized Bridget was trying to get his attention. She was mouthing a single word, and he was having a difficult time understanding. It was short, just one syllable, but didn’t match any word he could think of. She seemed to realize that and spoke more words, glancing from him to the horse and back.

Oh! She wanted him to ask the horse if it would take them. Frankly, he was fairly certain they’d already lost the race. How could Elwich and the Queen not have already arrived by now? This had taken too long, but it was hard to deny Bridget any delay she wished.

But there was no harm in asking, nor in trying to complete the quest. He faced the horse and, just in case it could be insulted as other fae could, he offered a short bow of his head as an introduction. «Neverwhere, would you be so kind as to carry Bridget and I to the cave where the crown stars grow? We would gladly share more mushrooms as a reward.»

Bryan glanced at his wife and she gave him a tiny nod with a smile that said he’d asked well. The horse stepped back from the fence and seemed to contemplate the question. It looked from Bridget to Bryan and back again before nodding its head three times and letting out a shrieking whinny.

But before Bryan could open the gate, the horse disappeared in a puff of smoke — just as the other horses had. Was it a trick? Were they being punished for rejecting the horses offered? Fear filled the pit of his stomach and even Bridget looked worried. Her eyes filled with tears and she mouthed, I’m sorry, over and over.

«’Twasn’t your fault, lass,» he said quietly, and pulled her into his arms. «We’ll just have to do our best.» Perhaps they were meant to walk after all. If they died, then so be it. They’d do so together.

She buried her face in his neck. He could feel her cool tears wet his shirt as her body shook with soundless sobs. «No matter, love. Don’t you think on it at all. If I must carry you the whole way, then I will, and to the devil with their rules and their contest.»

Let no food nor water pass your lips or they will own your soul. The sun beat down on them like noon in the desert. Bryan’s tongue felt three times the size and he could barely swallow from the effort and the heat. Did her warning mean only in the sithen? On foot, they would die without water. It could be days before they reached the cave at the peak of the mountain. «Can we drink nothing at all, Bridey? We won’t make it without moisture of some kind.»

She chewed at her lip, like she always did when she thought, and looked around the lush greenery. Suddenly her eyes lit up and she motioned him to the left. He went where she bid and came to the edge of a large red and green fern. The leaves were broader than his chest. Nail was the word she mouthed and he pulled one of the two nails he’d kept from the construction site from his jacket pocket. He was surprised he’d been left with them, but perhaps this was all part of the King’s plan. Slow them, and then help them. He wondered if Elwich and the Queen were enduring the same sort of trials. Did their horse disappear from under them in mid-flight? He would have imagined they should already be there and have won if their horse was still able to travel.

Bridget broke off one of the thick fern fronds then indicated that he should use the rusty nail to puncture the leaf so they could drink from the plant.

The moment he stabbed the end of the nail into the frond it began to leak green fluid. After a few moments, the fluid changed to the clearest water and Bridget opened her mouth for a drink. Bryan couldn’t have imagined it possible to love her more, but every moment that passed she proved she was smart and capable, all wrapped in a package of such beauty he could weep each time he saw her.

The flow of water seemed to go on far longer than it should have considering the size of the frond, but she seemed satisfied and he felt no odd sensation that he might be falling under a spell. He carefully plucked the nail from the plant and the water immediately stopped. It withered and died in mere seconds.

As he took Bridge’s hand again, they heard the thunder of hooves. It seemed to come from everywhere at once and he couldn’t decide where to move to get out of the way of the herd of animals that sounded ready to trample them.

Neverwhere appeared in a burst of tawny light. He bore a saddle made for two on his back. Bryan eagerly stepped towards the horse, but just as he reached for the reins, they were jerked from his grasp and the stallion disappeared again. Bridey’s coppery eyes flashed with the same anger he felt. «So, he hopes to taunt us, does he?» He raised his face to the cloudless blue sky. «You’ll not humiliate us, Highness. We require no animal to win this contest and your efforts only embolden us more.»

Bridget nodded firmly, echoing his statement with her movements. But they hadn’t taken more than a handful of steps before Neverwhere appeared once more. This time, it was clear the horse would not disappear so easily. It fought against whatever magic tried to snatch it away, kicking and thrashing as its reins were pulled into a sparkle of gold-white magic. But with a final throw of his massive head, it roared in anger and landed on the ground with such force that two trees were torn from the ground, narrowly missing Bryan and Bridget. If they hadn’t moved quickly, the contest would likely have ended at that moment.

The horse shook his head, eyes flashing with the same fire that flew from his mane and tail. He looked around suspiciously, as though expecting to be pulled from them once again, but remained in place. Finally, he snorted, flipped his head in a very self-satisfied manner and trotted over to where Bryan and Bridget were standing. Neverwhere snickered softly and nuzzled Bryan’s jacket pocket. He couldn’t help but smile. «You really can’t get enough of these, can you?»

Two mushrooms disappeared into the horse’s mouth before an audible sigh and a bluster of lips. When the horse’s eyes opened again, he turned to the side and offered the saddle to them. While Bryan was leery and feared the horse being taken from them again, the King had promised they could ride. He would have to take him at his word, for woe be to the fae, even the King, that went back on his word.

After making certain Bridget was secure in the saddle, he threw a leg over the steed and commanded firmly, «To the cave of the crown stars, Neverwhere. Be off with ye.»

The world dissolved into light and motion such that he’d never experienced before. He loved to ride fast on his motorcycle, but nothing could compare to the stomach-churning roller coaster that was a fae flying steed.

«Isn’t it wonderful? Can you see why I love this horse?» Bridey’s voice from behind him made him turn so suddenly he was dizzy.

«You can talk!»

She smiled and then laughed. «Why do you think I insisted on Neverwhere? He’s nearly completely resistant to magic. It’s why he’s untrainable.»

The landscape slipped by, but Bridget seemed completely at ease with it, even though the back of the motorcycle had always made her nauseous. She nudged him with her chin and motioned down. The ground was so far down and moving so fast that his stomach lurched with vertigo. «Look, Deathknell is below, with loose reins and no rider. I was surprised Elwich chose him. He’s fast, but never did like the Queen. I’ll wager he threw them.» Sure enough, a black horse with fiery blue mane was pawing the air below them, headed back to where they started.

«Of course, he could simply have dropped them off at the cave which means they’re about to win.»

Bridget slipped her hands around his waist and hugged him tight, resting her cheek against his back. «Elwich is a strong warrior, but has little patience with man or beast. He couldn’t even grasp the idea of asking a steed to bear them, any more than he could ask a woman to accompany him back to the sithen.»

He should know the answer, but doubt had filtered in at her ease in this world. «Would you have gone? If he had asked?»

Outrage painted her voice when she shouted over the rush of the wind in his ear. «Bryan Patrick Murphy! How dare ye even think that.»

He could only helplessly shrug. «But how could you not love it here? The food and drink, the animals that love you, the beauty all around? Why wouldn’t you stay, given the chance?»

She dug her legs into the side of the horse and it responded by leaping even faster into the wind, so quick now that it stole the breath from his lungs and made his eyes sting. «Endless song and wine grows old, as does the politics, Bry. I dinna lie when I said I grew tired, even before I was told to leave. It was likely the reason they chose to exile me.» Their angle changed so rapidly she had to hurriedly hang on to the saddle. «Whoops. Hold on now, ye hear? Neverwhere’s landings are a little abrupt.»

She wasn’t funning with him. The horse fell like a rock towards the hard ground and landed with a thud that shuddered the earth and made Bryan’s jaws clamp together painfully. Neverwhere trotted forwards for a few steps as a thick mist began to roll out of the cave mouth. The cavern yawned menacingly, glowing an eerie green through the mist. But Neverwhere pranced forwards confidently. At least for the first few steps. Then it reared back with the same abruptness as an earthly horse happening upon a snake. They nearly lost their seating as he reared and backed away in a panic. It was only when the mist faded that he stopped prancing and settled.

But Bryan had seen what was in the fog, and it made him afraid. «Doxies, Bridey. I saw their tiny claws in the fog.»

Her voice turned small and soft. «But we have to get inside. How»—

He nodded once and felt the warrior blood begin to boil in his veins. «We’ll go forwards the same way as we planned. on foot. I’ve boots on, thick ones for the road. It’ll take time for them to claw their way through. I’ll carry you so they can’t touch you. It’s just a little way and then we’ll be done.»

Bridget shook her head, even as he was slipping out of the saddle. «No, Bry. I canna let ye. One fang, even a single claw and you could die. Ye don’t understand. The legends blurred them over the centuries, made them sound like a lesser threat than other creatures. But they’re far worse than anything else in our world. The stuff of nightmares.»

«But they’re short. Aye? Can they reach above me boots if we move quickly?»

«How can ye move quickly while carrying me? Leave me here with Neverwhere and then ye can get inside.»

As good as it sounded, he knew it wouldn’t satisfy the King. «No. The King had to know the doxies were here. He planned this, as surely as the sun rises. He said true love could be a burden on a man, and this is where I prove to him that there’s no burden too great for love.» He reached out his arms and gathered her to him. «The King said we needed our wits as well as our strength.» There were few things more satisfying than staring into her copper flame eyes. He kissed her slow and easy, feeling her lips move against his. His stomach warmed and he felt himself respond to her as he always did, at the least touch. He pulled her tight against him, kissing her until she was breathless and gasping.

When he finally pulled away, her eyes were glazed with need. He winked. «Had to do that once more, just in case it’s our last kiss.»

Finally she smiled. «It won’t be. I have faith in ye, Bryan Murphy. There’s no trial too difficult that ye can’t prevail.»

«Hope you’re right, lass. I truly do.» He lowered himself so she could climb on his back, hands around his neck. «I plan to wear my burden as a backpack, milady, so my hands and feet are free to fight, if needed.»

«Fight!» Her eyes lit up. «You can fight doxies, Bryan. The nails. If we can make them into»—

«Spears!» he completed and began to look around for a long stick. But there were none to be found. It was as though they’d all disappeared, and he didn’t doubt that’s exactly what happened — the same way the horses faded into smoke.

They finally settled on a compromise. He used a rock to pound one nail through the front of his boot so he could kick the doxies out of the way. The risk was it would throw him off balance. The other nail he held in his fist. They couldn’t afford to fall into the mist where the poisoned teeth and claws could cut their skin.

A gong sounded from inside the cave. Had they already lost? Elwich and the Queen were nowhere to be seen. But there was no use stopping now. Bridget gave him a pained, but proud, look. «Remember I won’t be able to warn you of anything. Once I leave the protection of Neverwhere’s magic, I’ll be mute again.»

He nodded. He knew it was all on his shoulders. But that was often the way of love. One had to carry while the other was unable to cope. How many times had she carried him when he was so dead tired from work that all he could do was collapse inside the door? How many times had she bathed him, spoonfed him when he was sick, washed and scrubbed the clothes and their home? This trial was nothing, by comparison. He’d be long dead if she hadn’t found him, convinced him to give up the whiskey that was destroying him, and turned his life, and his heart, around. «You’ll never be mute, my queen. You speak into me heart every day. I can hear you as clear as a bell with every breath you draw.»

She tightened her thighs around his waist, clinging to his back. «Best of luck to ye, fair steed,» Bryan whispered on the way past. The horse responded by pounding a hoof once against the stone.

«I hope you’re ready, my queen. ’Tis time you had a crown befitting your beauty.» With a primal yell, he bounded into the mist, keeping his back bent for balance and using his left boot like a dagger for anything that lay ahead.

The hands attacked him almost instantly, pulling and tugging at him so strongly that it slowed him from a run to a walk that was like wading through ankle-deep mud. But the satisfying tiny screams and poofs of blue dust said the nail was doing its work, and occasionally he would swipe down with the other bit of iron to get a claw off the top of his boot. Their tiny faces were long and lean, the faces of predators who knew they would win in the end. The claws were sharp, and worried at the leather so quickly that he feared he wouldn’t reach the safety of the cave — if the cave were any safer.

But the fog had hidden more than the tiny creatures. It hid the sharp incline. He hit the edge of the ramp like a bull against a tree and went down, barely catching himself before Bridget tumbled off his back. But the damage was done. When he rose from his knees, there were bloody scratches through his pants, and tiny bite marks deep in his wrist and hand. He could feel the poison hitting his system even as Bridget urged him soundlessly forwards. His feet were going numb and he knew the King must be laughing at the foolish Human, a mere mortal who dared to oppose them.

«Sorry, lass,» he choked out as he stumbled again. «But I swore to protect you, and I’ll keep that vow.» He swung to face her. «Know that I love ye, lass. Know that I wouldn’t give in until ye were safe.»

As she screamed soundlessly, he used his last ounce of strength to pick her up and throw her through the mouth of the cave. She struck the wall hard enough that, as he fell into the mist and felt the painful claws and teeth rip through his flesh, a single crystal fell from the roof of the cavern to land on her beautiful red hair. It lit up like a star and made him smile, and he suddenly didn’t care that he would die here. So beautiful. Lord, how I love that girl.

He couldn’t quite process it when she stood on her own feet and raced towards him, yelling like a banshee and slapping doxies with the strength of a dozen warrior fae. «Oh, no, Bryan Murphy. Dinna ye think you can slip away from me that easy.» She grabbed under his arms and pulled backwards. He tried to help as much as he could, but everything was going numb and cold.

It took long minutes, but she finally managed to pull him back inside the mouth of the cave. She collapsed, breathing hard and sobbing, while he rested his face on her soft legs. He couldn’t quite get his lips to work, so he spoke into her mind. Don’t cry, Bridey. Never cry for me. I did what I did by choice. I did it to save you, not me.

She touched his hair, petted him and rocked. Tears dropped from her face to land on his cheek. After a moment, her face went cold and her eyes flashed and she called out a challenge that echoed through the cave. «Show yourself, false King! Mane shee who claims to be fair and worthy of your throne. Come face a halfling and defend yourself in battle! Unless you’re a coward as well!»

A long moment passed and then a bolt of lightning broke the stillness. «You dare call me a coward?!» The King’s roar of anger was like lava on Bryan’s skin, but his fierce Bridey didn’t flinch a bit.

Her voice was calm, but cold. «I do.»

«I could strike you dead with a wave of one finger.» Thunder rolled around the words, so loud the very air was painful against his eardrums.

Her brogue, which she tried to keep under control in the outside world, flared to full life. «Aye? And then ye’d best do it, afore the rest see thee for the coward ye are.» He couldn’t even move his head, and could only see her movements as flitting shadows in the growing darkness. «Ye swore on oath that the winner would go free. I dinna see your champion and your lady here afore us. Or is it his lady? Is that what this has been about, milord? To make the lady queen suffer the humiliation of being treated as a lowly human. to teach her a lesson?» Her words were sharp enough to cut stone and if Bryan could have only smiled, he surely would have. «I call thee coward for involving a mortal trying merely to protect one of the blood. Thrice I name thee coward, and prove otherwise soon, or suffer the wrath of the brethren who would take away thy crown for being unfit to wear it.»

Was that thunder again, or. no, could it be laughter?

«Ah, Bridget Greenleaf, you’re much as your mother was, daughter of mine.»

Daughter? His beautiful Bridey was daughter of the King of the fae?

«You’re right, this was a lesson to the Queen, and to an upstart warrior who would hope to usurp my throne by bedding her. When it didn’t work, he tried to take ye to blackmail me.»

Now Bridget softened her voice. «Aye. But he didn’t count on the strength of will and wit of my Bry, father.»

«I know now why you’ve remained in the mortal world, Bridget. You’ve a warrior true, and you’ve earned thy prize. Take Human home and nurse him well. It will be many days before the doxie poison leaves his system and I can offer only the crown star crystal to aid in thy fight and protect thy home. The burden now shifts from him to thee. Do ye accept this trial, daughter of mine, without even knowing the nature of it?»

Sound began to fade in Bryan’s ears, even as he felt himself being loaded again on the broad back of the loyal steed that would carry them home. To their home, in an emerald grove where he could rest and recover.

But he did hear one last thing before the world slipped into darkness and it warmed his heart. «I accept, Highness. The nature of the trial matters not. There is no burden so great that I cannot bear it for love.»