Dusk Knight, page 16
You know, in the last few months I’d seen a lot of things. Little men with wings wasn’t one of them, much less little Confederate cavalrymen who sounded like they were from somewhere close to, but not in, Louisiana. Mississippi? Alabama? Either way, this guy had to be a pixie. Fuck it, roll with it.
“I am,” I answered.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” my guest said, making a flourish with his hat and a small bow. “I am Colonel Patrick Beauregard, commanding officer of the local Free Fae militia.”
Part of me distantly considered saluting the little guy. Good Idea remarked that he wasn’t in my chain of command, but NCO pointed out we saluted allied foreign officers. None of us were sure what the correct response was here so I went with the first thing that came to mind, a respectful nod.
“Pleased to meet you as well,” I said, winging the shit out of it and hoping I didn’t just piss him off by not saluting. Was that a faux pas? Fucked if I know. Still, when in doubt, reply in kind. “To what do I owe the honor of making your acquaintance, good sir?”
“You’ll have to pardon the awkward nature of our meeting. Normally, the Free Fae steer clear of humanity. Certain recent events, however,” the Colonel craned his head to the side, eying the van behind me. “Certain events have made us reconsider our no-contact policy in regard to you.”
I nodded and heard the door open behind me. The Colonel bowed deeply at Colleen’s approach.
“Madam,” he greeted her.
“Ah, Colonel Beauregard,” Colleen said with a smile. “It’s been quite some time since New Orleans.”
“That it has, ma’am,” the Colonel replied. “That it has. I’ve since retired from active duty, in fact. I am currently filling in up here, helping train the next generation as it were.”
”As befits a man of your august stature,” she commented. “The new generation could benefit from your hard-won wisdom.”
“Indeed,” the Colonel agreed. “I apologize for the lack of support earlier.”
“Not at all, Colonel,” Colleen said. “This isn’t New Orleans, and you weren’t sure that Tom was read in.”
“Quite so. Our leadership is quite confused about the whole thing, Miss. Given their lack of wherewithal and our mutual familiarity, I decided some initiative was called for. So here I am, hoping to extend the hand of friendship to our neighbors, both new and old simultaneously.”
I cleared my throat. “I see no reason why we shouldn’t be friends, honestly.”
“Given the alacrity with which you dispatched the Prince’s dogs, it would be a shame if we ended at cross purposes. The world would weep to see such talent wasted.”
I smirked. “Many have tried to kill me, Colonel. You’d find the task difficult.”
The Colonel grinned. “Not as difficult as you’d think, son. If you find yourself in a fair fight—”
“You’ve failed to plan accordingly,” I finished as I glanced about. I felt the Morrigan’s light touch in the back of my mind and broke out in a sweat as pinpricks of heat spread across my back and arms. There were other pixies, thirty of them, nestled in the trees and bushes around us. I blinked. Most of them were aiming pen-sized metal tubes at me. “Nice. Snipers.”
Colleen looked about, clearly not seeing the platoon of pixies.
“It seems your original statement might hold more weight than I thought. Few fae can see through our glamours. A human that can is unheard of. To be fair though, if my XO’s observations are accurate, human might not be the proper word for you anymore.”
“I’m going to decline to comment on that. OPSEC. I’m sure you understand.”
”As one does,” the Colonel said with a nod and at his sharp whistle, the pixies around us emerged from their hides and assembled on the car roof behind him.
Once the new arrivals were in formation, the Colonel noted, “We are at somewhat of an impasse. My people have lived here since before the Europeans came to these shores, yet we have much respect for you and yours, given your careful stewardship of the land. We’ve maintained observation posts throughout this area since before you were born.”
“I won’t object to continued operations,” I told the Colonel. “You’ve evidently guarded these lands long before I became aware of your presence. I won’t deny you the ability to defend you and yours.”
“Much appreciated,” the Colonel commented. “If I may, a detachment from Washington University has expressed interest in visiting your homestead.”
“Their purpose?”
“Our scouts have reported unusual perturbations in the ambient magic. Our team would like the opportunity to see if they can isolate the cause.”
I looked askance at Colleen.
“You won’t find a group more opposed to Alexei and his ilk,” Colleen told me.
“These perturbations, they’ve happened six times, in pairs?” I asked the Colonel who nodded slowly and with budding suspicion. “I’ll save your team part of their inquiry. Your perturbations are the result of travel to and from the Nevernever.”
More than a few of the pixies cast furtive glances at each other. The Colonel’s only reaction seemed to be an absent-minded tugging at his beard.
“Curious,” the Colonel finally said. “Our boys will have to verify this, but for the moment I’ll presume it is as you say. How fairs our ancient homeland?”
Colleen spoke first. “We weren’t forsaken, Colonel. Our homeland is no more.”
For the first time the Colonel’s composure cracked. “Pardon?”
“The Nevernever is a veritable wasteland of ash, Colonel. I’ve seen it myself. I was with Tom when he traveled there yesterday.”
Colonel Beauregard stood transfixed along with the rest of his men for several moments. “Gods above. Do we know why? What of the Queens?”
“Their deaths sealed the veil and burnt the Nevernever to cinders,” I answered.
Every pixie, including the Colonel, paled and reflexively made the sign of the cross.
“Dark times,” the Colonel finally managed as he doffed his hat and cupped it over his chest. “Were there any survivors?”
”Aside from an uncharitable number of Cat Caorthannach? Only one that I’ve made the acquaintance of,” I answered. “The Morrigan sends her regards.”
This announcement spooked the pixies arguably as much as the news of the Queens’ deaths.
“How did Badb Catha survive where no other has?” the Colonel asked.
“The Battle Crow is a hard one to kill, Colonel. As am I. Not to insult your men, but any more than that must be said in strictest confidence.”
The Colonel looked to the pixie on his left and gave a curt nod. Within a heartbeat, the platoon scattered. As he donned his hat, the Colonel commented, “We can retire inside should that suit your needs. My men will ensure no curious eyes or ears approach.”
I held out my palm, which evidently amused the Colonel to no end. Still, he stepped aboard and made his way to my shoulder as Colleen and I went back inside.
While Colleen closed both doors I walked to the kitchen and helped my potential ally to kitchen table.
“Now then,” the Colonel said. “Where were we?”
“The Morrigan has entrusted a task to me.” That made the Colonel squint. “She asked me to find the assassins and deliver justice to them.”
The Colonel breathed in deeply. “Do you know who they are? Or have any suspects?”
I shook my head. “You’ll have to pardon me for not knowing the histories and customs of the various fae, but I could have sworn the dullahan are generally solitary.”
The Colonel regarded me silently for several moments before giving a slow nod. “That is the case as far as I am aware.”
“Two groups of dullahan, thirteen for each Queen. That level of cooperation from solitary types would seem to suggest some unseen puppet master.”
“I’d be inclined to conclude much the same. High command will wish to know of this.”
“Tell them. And tell them that so far, I don’t have specific people in mind, but if I were a betting man I’d be putting my money on at least one of the Princes being involved. Power corrupts and all that.”
The Colonel nodded and added, “A reasonable bet, if you ask me.”
“That covers everything I’m prepared to discuss at the moment,” I told the Colonel. “Colleen and I were on our way to get food, though I do have one question. If we have anything to spare before we go back home to St. Louis, would you and yours be interested?”
I figured he could use the lift again and held out my hand as he answered, “If it’s foodstuffs, we’re always interested.”
On the way outside he added, “Do you have any plans for the van?”
I thought a bit on my answer and set the Colonel down where he pointed, next to Colleen’s car.
“Honestly? No. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get rid of it.”
“Consider your problem solved,” the Colonel said. I wasn’t sure how exactly a group of pixies was going to vanish a van, but I was pretty sure I was better off not knowing. He gave a keen whistle, signaling his troops I presumed. “Thank you for your time and your hospitality.”
“Thank you, Colonel, and it’s no problem. You and yours are always welcome here,” I said as Colleen locked the front door.
“You’re quite welcome,” came the reply as I turned to go to the passenger side. “Oh, Staff Sergeant?”
“Yes, Colonel?” I responded and glanced back.
The little man stood rigid and snapped a parade ground salute. “Good luck, Edwards. Someone will be in touch.”
I returned the salute.
Chapter nine
Friends, Fae, Countrymen
“Well, you don’t see that every day,” I said to Colleen as she started the car.
She glanced over at me as she backed out onto the trail. “See what?”
“Pixies. Militia pixies. You know— I’m sorry, but pixies in military uniforms is pretty much the last thing I think I expected to ever see once I got over the fact that you guys, the fae were a thing. Since when do pixies carry guns, Colleen?”
“Guns?” she responded with no small amount of disbelief. “I didn’t see any guns.”
I blinked. How could she miss them? Right, glamours. Glamours evidently only I can see through.
“Yeah,” I said, “About the size of a pen, but a little thicker. Looked like tiny recoilless rifles, like little Carl Gustavs. I guess would make sense. I mean, pixies don’t really have a lot of mass to absorb recoil. Still, little pixie Gustavs chambered in, uh, .22? Something small like that. Maybe .17 HMR?”
Colleen didn’t say anything while we bounced and wove down the trail, but when we got back on the main road she said, “Well, first off, the pixie militarization is relatively recent. I think they figured after the Free Fae lost that Alexei would eventually ignore them like everyone else does. Would’ve been nice, but that’s not what happened. He cleared a good chunk of the country of them before the survivors banded together to form the first militias. That was the ’20s, I think, give or take a decade or two. If you think the militia was cute, you do realize that’s just the local defense force, right?”
I glanced over at her. Yeah, she was serious.
“So, like, classic colonial militia type unit? Locals? Reservists? They didn’t seem like modern human militiamen. They weren’t three hundred pounds, selling beef jerky at the local gun show, owned more kit than they could carry, and I didn’t notice anyone recording the conversation for the FBI,” I said.
“I think reservists or National Guard is closest,” she answered with a smirk while making a turn to get on the highway back up to Festus. “They actually have an active-duty army, Tom.”
I just stared at her. “For what? They’re fuckin’ pixies.”
“Well, for one, they’ve been waging a war the last twenty years in New York City,” she answered.
Okay, stop the car, I think I’d like to get off the planet now. “Against who?” I asked incredulously.
“The rats. Have you seen a New York City rat? They’re a serious threat to pixies, hence the war of extermination. You’ll note St. Louis doesn’t have a serious rat problem. Thank the pixies.”
“But, but couldn’t they just fly away?” I said, gesturing with my hands. “Pixies have wings.”
She laughed. “Oh Tom, sorry, there’s just so much you don’t know. Not all pixies can use their wings. Shit, when did that get to be a thing? The 1600s? 1700s? I don’t remember. The centuries just kinda bleed into each other after a while. It’s a good thing you didn’t comment on the fact the Colonel has issues flying. That’s a hurtful topic for most urban pixies.”
I sighed. “Okay, break this down for me, barney style. Why can’t they use their wings? And what’s this about Alexei?”
She chewed on her lip for a half mile or so before trying to fill me in. “So, pixies are minor fae, right?”
“Right?”
“How many minor fae do you think survived being cut off from the Nevernever? Most magic here before then was bleed-over through the veil, Tom. When the veil closed to us, that flow stopped. Ley lines are the only show in town if you need any serious ambient magic.”
I shrugged. “Honestly, how should I know? I mean, they’re small, but does size have anything to do with how much magic any given fae needs?”
“Point. In truth, it doesn’t really, but it’s a decent enough guide,” she said and then shivered before continuing, “Tom, the first five years after the veil sealed us off was a bad, bad time to be fae. Imagine the stories you heard as a kid about how nuclear winter would kill off humanity with mass starvation. It was— shit, like you suddenly found yourself at the top of Mt. Hood. No matter how hard you breathe you simply can’t get enough oxygen, except instead of a quick suffocation like honest asphyxiation, it just drags at you. You get slower, your mind moves slower. Your glamours simply don’t work and only leave you even weaker for trying. The color in the world seems to bleed away to nothing but grays as you get progressively weaker. The lucky ones lose themselves in this and meet oblivion unaware. The unlucky ones are the ones who realize what’s going on. They pray for death. Some didn’t wait the months it took for most fae to starve out.
“And everyone who could find a ley line piled in, but ley lines only emit so much so fast, Tom. Too many fae and there isn’t enough to go around. You starve out even slower. And then the fighting starts because nobody wants to die but they’re more than happy to kill others to keep living.”
“Fuck. That’s grim,” I managed to comment after a few heartbeats of cold contemplation.
“Human population, all of it, in 1400 was about as many as are in this country now. 350 million, more or less. Fae have never come close to matching humanity’s numbers. I figure maybe twenty million were on this side of the veil when we were cut off. Less than a single million survived the culling. I figure the worst of the mass die off didn’t really end for another five or six decades. Not everyone had the same needs or reserves.”
“Shit,” I managed.
“Yeah, shit,” she echoed mirthlessly. “I lost a lot of good friends back then, Tom.”
The sudden dark chill riding under those words banished any idea I might’ve had of asking what she’d done to survive. Not that I was seriously considering asking in the first place. I’d seen enough fucked up shit in all the places the Army had sent me to know past a certain point you just do what you have to and then do the best you can to live with the consequences. I reached over from the passenger seat and rubbed the top of her leg despite the stick shift’s best efforts to get in the way.
“But that was the worst of it. The die off is still on-going. Hit the minor fae the hardest. Larger population but smallest reserves. More than a few, it wasn’t just the lack of magic. What do you think happens when your breeding population gets too small? It’s not pretty. That’s why there’s no brownies or leprechauns anymore. Selkies and Unicorns, too.”
She gave a humorless chuckle. “Weird how easy it is to just accept things as they are and just not think about it anymore. I hadn’t thought about those days since, uh, the Civil War?”
“The mid-1800s?” I asked.
“No, the English Civil War. Mid-1600s. Got to kill quite a few Englishmen,” she said with a grim smile. “So, getting to the pixies here. They’d mostly died off in Europe. Nigh complete extinction everywhere else too as far as I’m aware, but right before the English Civil War their population stopped plummeting and then children started being born again. They weren’t the same as their parents. Their lifespans were shorter; they were weaker with magic. The pixies I knew before getting stuck here might see five or six centuries if nothing untoward happened to them. Their descendants are lucky to manage five decades. Some would say they’re stunted, but they wouldn’t say that anywhere a pixie might hear.
“All the pixie survivors lived on ley lines back then. They couldn’t get terribly far away before succumbing. Well, until that changed. It started in England. Cambridge if I recall correctly. A handful of pixies from a neighboring ley line made it to the college there and made it their home sometime around 1660. More followed and eventually spread to other places, like Oxford.
“That group’s descendants changed even further, and by the 1800s their wings were basically vestigial. They can glide but for most of them that’s about it. A few, like the Colonel, can fly, barely, and it takes a lot out of them. The pixies that never left the ley lines kept their wings, but they don’t have quite the same vigor as the urban pixies. I’m not a sociologist or biologist, but I’m fairly certain by the ’50s the urban pixies were almost back to birth rates from before the fall.”
“Interesting,” I commented. “Which century for the ’50s?”
I mean, it was an honest question. We’ve danced through most of a millennia’s history in less than five minutes.
“This last century. No idea why either,” she said. “The urban pixies are the only minor fae that have sprung back. Hell, despite Alexei’s attempt at running a pogrom, they’ve flourished. He caught quite a few, but, well, up until the 50s the pixie answer was to scatter. After that, they fought back any time they were cornered. They’re only getting more vicious every year. You said they were carrying guns, Tom. I’ve never heard of them doing that. If that’s the case, pretty soon Alexei’s going to have to start worrying about why his people keep disappearing, assuming he isn’t already.”
