Chapter 3

Our next mission was not so simple. It required a visit to Tír na nÓg, the heartland of the Faere, humanity's (mostly) forgotten overlords and the Unseelie court of the Sidhe.

Forget all the folk tales of good and bad when it comes to the Faere. Yes, there are two courts, but it's not good and evil, they both hate mankind with a passion, it's the difference between lava and liquid nitrogen, both will kill you quickly and unpleasantly. There was no middle ground. You were either powerful enough to defend yourself or you were dead and either of the courts would take their time and stretch your agony for as long as possible. The courts represent differing Sidhe factions whose policies are ever fluid though mostly to do with reclaiming the lands of men and others as their own.

The Sidhe ruled various versions of Earth from about 250,000 years ago. They were slavers who used their power to keep hominids (men) and others as docile sheep for various tasks, including food. Yes, the Sidhe eat people, they aren't carnivores by any means, but they don't see people as being anything other than toys to torment or walking snacks. About 45,000 years ago though, there was a mutation and homo-sapiens burst in on the scene and were taken through various portals to the other Earths, far more aggressive than homo-neanderthalensis upon whom the Sidhe preyed at that time. Eventually they were capable, via their shamans (an early form of Mage we think), of defending themselves from the Sidhe glamour and mind control. The war was long and bitter and eventually led to the extinction of Neanderthals on our Earth at least and drove the Sidhe into areas mankind either didn't want or couldn't reach. The Sidhe held on tenaciously in those areas as old legends will tell. Their real end though came when the people of the various Earths they'd settled on began to develop iron weaponry, the Sidhe are ... allergic is not the right word, but deeply affected by magnetism and iron is both magnetic and poisonous to their flesh, though not fatal as some tales tell. It pierces their glamour and exposes them to real danger, something they hate. The Sidhe finally left our Earth in about 500 AD, when the Christians gained a foothold in Ireland; though there are suspicions they lingered longer in the America's. Either way, they still attempt to draw people via their glamour through portals into their realm. Needless to say there are no survivors unless a magician can get there quickly; even then the mental damage to their victims is often extreme. Many commit suicide, or have complete personality changes with often severely erratic behaviour, severely traumatised, occasioned by violent psychotic episodes, is probably the most accurate description.

Mages generally were safe, our minds work differently from mundanes and we aren't easily fooled by visions or the Sidhe glamour. Doesn't mean we can't get into trouble, but there are accords between the two Courts and the Council which the Sidhe mostly abide by if they think there's a chance of getting caught. Other Earths and their Mages have similar protocols, it's one of the few areas we co-operate in, no one wants the Sidhe back.

Morgana and I were there to check on a breach of the accords which seems to have happened in the death camps of Poland where the Sidhe were opening portals in the gas chambers thinking the Council would not notice.

Getting into Tír na nÓg is easy enough for a magician. We just stretch out our mind between the borders of our reality until we locate it, a parallel Earth in which mankind does not exist. It tastes of Sidhe, which isn't a totally accurate analogy, but it's the closest I can come to in the written word. Once we have it, we open a portal, often enough using a modified door frame and step through. Oh yes, we also carry cold steel, magnetised bladed weapons as the Sidhe have a word for an unarmed man, it translates as 'prey'.

Morgana stepped through first, scanning with all her senses including several magical ones for any dangers in the real and unreal world before beckoning me through. I stepped through at the base of a hill topped by what a mundane would see as a towering city of marble and glass it's beauty both unearthly and awe inspiring. To my inner eye it was a jumble of crude huts and tents surrounding some sort of natural amphitheatre, the home of the Unseelie court.

We were of course spotted the instant we emerged; the Sidhe can feel the presence of anything not of their own moving about near them and they are very dangerous predators on their home turf. They came riding at incredible speed from the surrounding area on their steeds, all glowing armour and wickedly spiked weapons, they may not have architectural skills, but they could make fine weapons of something they call adamantine, but which is just a form of artificial sapphire. This, along with their talents of creating images and mental dominance, is why they're so dangerous to normal mortals.

We however were not normal mortals and Morgana simply spoke a series of syllables causing the Faere steeds to go berserk and start throwing their riders. It wasn't magic as such, simply old commands that the Fae steeds were programmed to respond to. The Fae consider it cheating, but we aren't Fae.

"Nice one," I said with a smile.

"The old ones are always the best," said Morgana. "Now let's go and see Oberon."

We wandered up the hill to the amphitheatre through packs of flailing, panic stricken Fae steeds all avoiding Morgana as if she were deadly poison and their helpless, hapless riders. At the entrance to the town we faced a single warrior barring our path.

"Who dares call unwanted upon the Unseelie court!" boomed out at us. "Speak now or suffer the consequences."

"Emissaries from the Council of the Wise, seeking an audience with Oberon, king of the Faere," said Morgana in even tones. "As if you did not know."

"What care the Faere of prey?" came the contemptuous reply.

"Small wonder they lost control of our world if they cannot even recognise how dangerous it is to insult a Mage," I murmured.

"They never learn," said Morgana. "It's like a flow chart with a set of arrows that always point to the box marked 'make serious error of judgement here.'"

"May I?" I asked.

"Certainly, John," she replied.

I walked forward a step.

"Out of the way, Elf," I demanded, feeling Morgana's wince without needing to see it. Elf is the equivalent in the Faere world of calling someone of colour a 'nigger' in our world. It worked though and the Sidhe lost control and charged at me, swinging his barbed sword with blinding speed towards my head. I simply raised my hand and the metal buttons on my greatcoat cuff did the rest, they were iron and I'd made them highly magnetic and, combined with a zone of increased inertia in front of them, interfered with the Sidhe's mind control running through the weapon causing it explode into a cloud of corundum dust when it got within a foot of me. It left the Sidhe warrior collapsed on the ground with what appeared to be severe burns along with a very badly charred hand.

"Did you have to be so rude?" Morgana asked.

"I didn't want him trying anything clever," I replied.

"He's a Fae warrior facing a human," said Morgana. "Clever wouldn't enter into it."

"I prefer not to take chances," I replied with a grin.

"Men!" muttered Morgana and led the way into the amphitheatre.

The Lords and Ladies of the court ostentatiously ignored us as we moved towards a raised dais where I presumed Oberon sat. At a certain distance, which to an untrained eye would have looked totally random but simply felt right to us, we stopped and simply waited.

It didn't take long; the presence of Mages couldn't be ignored for too long in a Faere court.

"Who seeks audience with Oberon, High King of the dark Fae, undying monarch and joint liege of the Sidhe, ruler of Elphame, Annwn, Avalon, Afallach, Emain Ablach, Brú na Bóinne, Cnoc Meadha, Cnoc na Teamhrach, Inis Vitrin, Mag Mell, Niðavellir and Rathcroghan," came the stentorian tones of what I presumed was some sort of seneschal.

This was my cue, it wouldn't do for Morgana to introduce herself.

"Lady Morgana, last chatelaine of Duntagell, elder of Dál Riata, forsworn of England and the Isles, keeper of the Spear of Longinus and speaker for the Council of the Wise," I boomed out in return.

"A human," came the contemptuous reply.

"Aye!" I mocked. "A human Mage of the many Earths from whence you were driven out, your tails between your legs!"

The seneschal reached for his weapon.

"Go ahead, little Elf," I said coldly. "The last one to try lies outside this court, his body ruined."

The court murmured in shock at my language, but at least I had their attention.

"You may address us, Lady Morgana," said a figure seated on the Dias.

"Your Majesty," Morgana replied. "It has come to our attention that once again Fae are breaching the Tara Accords and interfering in the lands of the Council of the Wise. Specifically Poland and certain Nazi camps there."

"You have proof?" Oberon stated coldly.

Chapter 4 »