Chapter 12: Deceptive Practices

The people of Avalon were naive at best. Nyx didn’t even bother considering them fools. Their complete lack of common sense was a result of the environment they had been bred for. A proper warrior didn’t laud their own strength over that of a child, after all.

However, their lack of intellect did not spare them from her schemes. Finley had been the first, owing her for the apple she had handed him. She had come upon him in the midst of a meal with his family, excitedly chattering about the newcomers to the island.

To Nyx’s displeasure, the family had been fantastic hosts. They had offered her food, drink, and even allowed her to sit where the family head usually did. She had been unable to find fault with their actions, but soon discovered that the simple act of helping pass around the food put them greatly in her debt. It had been a lesson in efficiency, one that she had taken with her after leaving. In fact, she had been so grateful to Finley and his family for this knowledge that she declared to them that their debts were paid in exchange for some food to take with her.

The other people in the village, however, were fair game. All it took was handing someone a piece of bread, an apple, or anything else they may take interest in, and they would immediately thank her for it. She started by asking for the stories of their elders and was more than a little bothered when she learned there weren’t any. The oldest people in the village were near the end of their third decade, which was cause enough for suspicion. Nyx already knew why these people were being kept here, but that didn’t require culling them back so far.

A bit of digging was all it took to find some answers. Though the people couldn’t remember anything on their own, that was hardly enough to stop the Fae. After all, they had thanked her for a service, and she required payment. Memories were much like currency for her, easily extracted and perused at her leisure. The oldest people in the village had some that intrigued her, an incident from many years back that involved a visit from another outsider, a woman with black hair and a smile that could steal the heart from any man or woman.

Her name was Natalie. She had come to this place with stories of a magical home full of mythical creatures and had used that smile to win over the people of the village. She had stayed for nearly a month, captured the same way that Mike had been. The mirror was controlled somehow by Vincentius, that much Nyx had gathered on her own.

As to how Natalie escaped and what came next, Nyx had no idea of knowing. The people who remembered the woman had been sheltered from the fallout by Lady Charlotte, who kept the children locked up in her school. She and Sir Galahad had protected them from Vincentius’ rage, which was likely the only reason there were still any humans on the island at all.

When the people of Avalon ran out of memories that held any value, Nyx extracted promises from them instead. They didn’t fear her yet, and all promised her a favor at a later time. The thing about promises to the Fae was that they were magically enforceable, and Nyx wasn’t entirely certain what she intended to do with them yet. When the time came, nearly a third of the village would obey her commands should she give them.

The story of the nymph in the fountain was likely a hold over from Natalie’s visit many years ago. That much she had admitted to Mike, as it pertained to their agreement. She could have told him about Natalie, but that connection wasn’t yet clear, so she wasn’t required to share.

Mike Radley fascinated her. Even now, the sky rumbled in response to his current state of mind, to which Nyx hoped she had contributed. The primary reason for her visit yesterday had been to vex him. Though he couldn’t see it from the outside as she did, his soul was in turmoil, like a pot ready to boil over. Something he would do in the future would change everything for the Fae, and she sometimes wondered if her presence alone wouldn’t be the catalyst for change. If that was the case, perhaps it was something she could use to her advantage.

If Mike were about to do something that would directly harm her people, she would stop it and take full credit. It didn’t matter if her behavior was somehow the cause, they would grant her a higher standing for saving their way of life.

However, if that harm were to somehow put the Seelie Court or her own family in a better position, she would stand back and allow it to happen first. She would still punish him later for any harm caused, of course. Her discretion in such a matter would yield her a place of power among the Seelie.

On the odd chance that he did something that would result in the elimination of the Queen, Nyx would do everything in her power to step over others and into that role. Whether that meant a negotiation of peace with the Caretaker, or even a declaration of war, it would not matter. Ruling over the Fae was never meant to be a job for only one being, and the King’s absence had driven a wedge between the Queen and her people.

Nyx sneered at the memory of the King. He had become enraptured by the worship of the mortals and fallen victim to it. The Queen was now in a similar position, and it would be far better for the Fae if they could depose her long before she abandoned them.

Her own feelings about the Queen were mixed. If not for circumstantial evidence that she may be in league with the Caretaker, Nyx and others would be squarely on her side. The Fae simply could not endure being abandoned again, especially not for a race as simple and pathetic as humans.

The Fae princess closed her eyes. How many times had she gone to meet with the King in his human guises, to beg him to return to their people? She hadn’t been the only one, either. No amount of logic or pleading had been enough to dissuade him. Despite his human body breaking down as a result of hosting his grand soul, it was the adoration of the humans he craved like a drug. They had come to hear him sing, after all, and he wouldn’t disappoint them.

When the Queen had shattered his throne in a fit of rage, Nyx’s heart had burned with sympathetic anger. Even now, the remains of that throne sat as a testament to the failings of the King, an eternal reminder that the humans had stolen him away.

Shaking her head, Nyx stood and looked out over the village from her position on the roof of Finley’s home. She could see the fountain from here, which was nothing more than the eternal spring that fed Avalon its water supply. The fountain had been installed on top of it some time ago, and she had known better than to ask the stones to remember. The fountain itself was always occupied, and she preferred that any truths she discovered would remain hers to keep.

That, and Sir Galahad was always watching. There were many times she had discovered him about when she thought she was alone. The man clearly didn’t recognize her, but the mortal mind wasn’t meant to retain so many lifetimes worth of faces. She had been uncertain about his charade at first, but he spoke truly when he said that he was not the man they thought he was. While he was indeed the bastard son of Lancelot, he was no longer the noble man who had quested for the Holy Grail on King Arthur’s orders.

“How have you changed, ser?” Nyx stared in the direction of the simple church that had been constructed near the middle of town. Galahad was there right now, counseling a young man and woman on their impending nuptials. The former knight could not keep an eye on her while maintaining his regular duties. “Though of more importance, how have you not?”

Nyx stepped backwards off the roof and allowed the wind to carry her toward the castle. The magical vortex of air that provided lift to the gargoyles briefly became her playground as she danced across the sky, no doubt in full view of the stony guardians. When she at last alighted on the tip of a spire, one of their number rose from its crouch.

“How did you do that?” she asked. This gargoyle was younger than the others. “You don’t have wings or anything!”

“It’s easy,” said Nyx with a grin. “All you have to do is ask nicely.” To further vex the beast, she hopped onto a gust of wind that carried her to the top of the nearest tower. She rode it upside down with both arms behind her back, making sure to wink as it carried her away. Flipping over at the last moment, she came to halt on the top of the turret, balancing precariously on the iron tipped cone. If not for her shoes, her feet would already be bleeding from contact.

“Let’s get a better look at you,” she muttered, staring down at the castle. Ever since they had arrived, the structure had seemed familiar. Much in the same way Galahad didn’t recognize her face, her own mind was stuffed with far too many human structures to differentiate them. Castles often took a long time to build, too, so she often saw them through various stages of construction. Humans were similar in that they aged so fast, but at least they had souls to be recognized by.

Nyx spent perhaps an hour in that eerie twilight, hopping across the rooftops and attempting to block out portions of the castle with her hands. The gargoyles didn’t stop her from her travels, but did warn her away from Vincentius’ own tower. At first, the only difference she could see was that it was the largest. However, once she was up close, the stones told a very different story.

The Carefaker’s tower was far older than the rest, its facade altered to match. Towers weren’t built first, they came near the end, so she knew it had come from somewhere else. Realizing this place was likely an amalgamation constructed by magic was the final clue she needed as she hopped among the stones, asking each of them how old they were.

Even the gargoyles couldn’t follow her aerial antics as she leapt down into a gap that ran between one of the towers and the central keep. Falling until she was almost at the bottom, the breeze saved her at the last second by carrying her through an open window. Once inside, she could feel the internal magic of the building shift, likely sending out notice to its servants.

“Clever boy,” she muttered, then commanded her shadow to carry her. Whatever magical means of detection existed were quickly defeated when Nyx’s own shadow pushed free of the ground, lifting her up by an inch. She hopped down the nearest hallway, then found a flight of stairs to ascend.

This castle was several different buildings that hadn’t been stuck together, but merged. It was why the air flowed oddly and the hallways didn’t make sense. Once upon a time, Vincentius had merged more than one castle together to create this current monstrosity, and she had just discovered another of his secrets.

Nyx now stood at a pair of wooden doors she hadn’t seen since she was a sprite. It wasn’t that she had been much younger, but rather that she had been given a sacred task and the form of a water spirit had suited her best. The door itself had been locked from within, but her shadow slid beneath and pushed up the bar from the other side to allow her entry.

The doors swung open silently as her shadow pressed dirt and grit away from the wood. The room was cast in an amber hue by the picture window above the thrones of Camelot.

“Hmm.” Nyx stepped into the room proper and the doors shut behind her. “First he steals Avalon, then Camelot?” She walked over toward the massive stone in the middle of the room. “Or perhaps it’s the other way around? Which came first, the island or the keep? Is it an obsession? Is our host a collector? Oh, ho ho!” Nyx knelt down and flicked the hilt of the legendary blade, Excalibur. “You are definitely not supposed to be here!”

The Fae princess stood and surveyed the room. This place had a story, but what would it be? She looked back at the thrones and walked backward toward them, her eyes scanning the room. When she finally sat upon the throne itself, she breathed a single word.

“Remember,” she commanded in the old tongue. The stones let out a sigh as one, and the light of the room shifted wildly as the room itself tried to remember thousands of years in a single breath. That was the thing about the earth that mortals didn’t know—stones had the longest memories.

Luckily for Nyx, not much had happened in this place for many years. She saw a brief meeting between the cyclops and Galahad. The man himself spent much of his time here, gazing guiltily at the empty thrones. When Nyx went far enough back, she found herself gazing at a room full of people, all of them dressed in courtly attire.

She stepped out into the memory, listening to the people speak. Up on the throne were a man and woman she did not recognize, though the man was slightly familiar.

This was Camelot during the time after Arthur. She looked around, hoping to spot a familiar face and piece together the rest of the story. The king and his consort, perhaps even his queen, sat regally on their thrones, both of them in gilded clothing.

“Pah.” Nyx sneered at them from across the centuries. Arthur would never have wanted this. Though he had his failings, the Fae had coached him well on a sense of humility and justice.

The doors behind her slammed open, and Nyx spun in place along with the mortals. For a moment, she feared that she had been found, but this was still just a memory. A small group of armed men forced their way in, their features hidden behind dark armor. The royal knights moved to intercept them and protect the occupants of the room, but they were quickly disarmed and shoved back by the invaders. The dark-armored warriors were far stronger than a mortal should be.

As the nobility in the room were pressed against the walls and trapped, the king rose from his throne and drew his blade. The queen was escorted toward the back of the room where they attempted to flee through a secret exit. They were met by a pair of warriors who chased them back inside.

“Who dares to take Camelot?” shouted the unknown king. His honor guard rallied around him, ready to attack.

A large man wearing midnight armor walked into the room and laughed. He didn’t respond to the king’s question, instead barking orders in a language that only his people knew. Nyx scrunched up her face. Was that Greek? Or Roman? Languages were hard, especially when people were just making up sounds all the time that meant things.

“Your King commands you to answer!” shouted a brave warrior. The newcomer stepped forward and slapped the man aside hard enough that he crumpled to the ground.

“This place may be Camelot,” said the black knight. “But you are not its king.”

“I have a divine right,” shouted the king, but his face turned red as the black knight’s magic stretched across the room.