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Silver's Edge
Anne Kelleher
THROUGH THE SHADOWLANDS: Where the touch of silver was Protection, Power and Peril… UNWILLINGLY ENTWINED… There is more danger than usual in the Otherworld of the Sidhe and the mortal world of the Shadowlands. An unlikely group of conspirators–both mortal and Sidhe–plot to overthrow both thrones. They'd stolen the silver caul that protected the borders between the realms–and set into motion a perilous war….A BLACKSMITH'S DAUGHTER, A SIDHE LADY, A MORTAL QUEENThree women stand against the encroaching evil. All they have is a girl's love for her father, a lady's for her queen–and a queen's for her country. Nessa, Delphinea and Cecily are each driven by a personal destiny, yet share a fierce sense of love, justice and determination to protect what is theirs.Will the spirit and strength of these women be enough to turn back the tide of the goblin hordes waiting to overrun the kingdoms? Perhaps. But the battle must still be fought….
Praise for
ANNE KELLEHER
“I found it one of those books which keeps one’s eyes glued to the page…an outstanding piece of work.”
—Andre Norton on Daughter of Prophecy
“…displays vivid imagination.”
—Publishers Weekly
“…engaging and powerful.”
—Voya on The Misbegotten King
“Fascinating—a most ingenious blend of science fiction and fantasy.”
—New York Times bestselling author Marion Zimmer Bradley on Daughter of Prophecy
SILVER’S EDGE
ANNE KELLEHER
This book is dedicated, with love,
to my son Jamie, my intrepid little adventurer—
may you always believe that tall buildings
are made to be leaped with a single bound.
Glossary of People and Places
Faerie—the sidhe word for their own world. It includes the Wastelands
The Shadowlands—the sidhe word for the mortal world
The Wastelands—that part of Faerie to which the goblins have been banished
Lyonesse—legendary lost land that is said to have lain to the east of Faerie
Brynhyvar—the country that, in the mortal world, overlaps with Faerie
The Otherworld—the mortal name for Faerie
TirNa’lugh—the lands of light; the shining lands—mortal name for Faerie; becoming archaic
The Summerlands—place where mortals go at death
Humbria—mortal country across the Murhevnian Sea to the east of Brynhyvar
Lacquilea—mortal country lying to the south of Brynhyvar
Killcairn—Nessa’s village
Killcrag—neighboring village to the south
Killcarrick—lake and the keep
Alemandine—Queen of sidhe
Xerruw—Goblin King
Vinaver—Alemandine’s younger twin sister and the rightful Queen
Artimour—Alemandine’s half-mortal half brother
Gloriana—mother of Vinaver, Alemandine and Artimour
Timias—Gloriana’s chief councilor and the unacknowledged father of Alemandine and Vinaver
Eponea—Mistress of the Queen’s Horses
Delphinea—Eponea’s daughter
Finuviel—Vinaver’s son by the god Herne; rightful King of Faerie
Hudibras—Alemandine’s consort
Gorlias, Philomemnon, Berillian—councilors to the Queen
Petri—Delphinea’s servant gremlin
Khouri—leader of the gremlin revolt and plot to steal the Caul
Nessa—nineteen-year-old daughter of Dougal, the blacksmith of Killcairn
Dougal—Nessa’s father; Essa’s husband; stolen into Faerie by Vinaver
Griffin—Dougal’s eighteen-year-old apprentice
Donnor, Duke of Gar—overlord of Killcairn and surrounding country; uncle of the mad King and leader of the rebellion against him
Cadwyr, Duke of Allovale—Donnor’s nephew and heir
Cecily of Mochmorna—Donnor’s wife; heiress to the throne of Brynhyvar
Kian of Garn—Donnor’s First Knight
Hoell—mad King of Brynhyvar
Merle—Queen of Brynhyvar; princess of Humbria
Renvahr, Duke of Longborth—brother of Queen Merle; elected Protector of the Realm of Brynhyvar
Granny Wren—wicce woman of Killcairn
Granny Molly—wicce woman of Killcrag
Engus—blacksmith of Killcarrick
Uwen—Kian’s second in command
The Hag—immortal who dwells in the rocks and caves below Faerie; the moonstone globe was stolen from her when the Caul was forged
Herne—immortal who dwells within the Faerie forests, from which he rides out on Samhain night, leading the Wild Hunt across the worlds
Great Mother—mortal name for the Hag
The Horned One—mortal name for Herne
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Nothing I have ever written has not owed a great deal to the people who have to put up with me while I write. Thanks go to my agent, Jennifer Jackson, who lit a candle just as the lights were going out; to Patrice Fitzgerald, Olivia Lawrence, Robert Becerra and Laura Sebastian-Coleman, who gave me feedback and wonderful suggestions; to Anne Sheridan, who proofread the final draft—any mistakes are mine; to Laura at The Purple Rose and Bobbi at Maggie Dailey’s for providing tea and source material; to Loreena McKennitt, Julee Glaub and Bruce Springsteen, whose music made me see the OtherWorld; to GTimeJoe, who kept my head in the clouds; to the folks in the CT Over 40 chat room on AOL for being so unflaggingly supportive even when I was at my most cranky; to the wonderful members of the FMC for cheerleading; to my darling daughters, Kate, Meg and Libby, who bore the brunt of dishes, laundry and trash; and finally, to Donny. You made it all possible.
Contents
PROLOGUE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
EPILOGUE
An Interview with Anne Kelleher
PROLOGUE
Then
Down dusty roads the child fled, heart drumming in her thin chest like the gallop of a thousand horses, chased from sleep by hulking hordes of goblins who grabbed at her with gleaming teeth and outstretched claws. She startled awake, the echoes of her dream screams dying in her ears, crying aloud at the sight of the banked grate, where the coals glowed like red eyes in the dark room. A cold wind was howling in the trees, and the window rattled in its frame. A gusty draft stirred the curtains just as something crashed onto the roof above her head. She cried again, louder now, and yanked her thick woolen blanket higher, the rest of her small body stiffening with dread, the whole house, it seemed, shuddering under the impact.
“Nessie? You all right?” Her father’s broad face loomed out of the shadows of the doorway, his white nightshirt luminous in the gray light. He came closer, feet bare, the black hair on his chest curling out of the open collar of his nightshirt. A dark haze of beard shadowed his chin. Disheveled and bleary-eyed as he was, the sight of him relaxed her instantly, even as the sound of something scraping against the windowpane made her eyes widen once more.
“Papa, the goblins,” she moaned. “They’re chasing me—there’s one outside my window—”
“Hush, now.” His voice was a gravelly rumble as compelling as distant thunder. “That’s nothing but the branch I should’ve had the sense to cut down long before this. The wind brought it down, that’s all. There’re no goblins outside, not now, not ever.”
Cautiously the child peered over the homespun sheet, which was soft with many washings. Her father had spoken, her father who was the rock at the center of her world. Her father was Dougal the village blacksmith and the best armorer for leagues around. Even the mighty Duke of Gar came to Dougal when he wanted a new sword or dagger. “But, Papa,” she whispered, “Granny Wren, tonight, at the Gathering, she said the goblins come a-hunting little children—little children is what they like best to eat.”
With a stifled hiss of exasperation, the blacksmith crossed the small space to his daughter’s bed and knelt on the ragged scrap of rug. “Ah, little one, Granny Wren likes to hear herself talk. It’s how she knows she’s still alive, I think, for there’s no other reason for half the things she says. But come now, didn’t you also hear her speak of Bran? Bran Brownbeard, the greatest smith there ever was, in either Brynhyvar or the OtherWorld, the place called TirNa’lugh?” He paused. Her dark eyes were bright in her rosy little face and she shook her head, falling readily into the spell his whisper wove. “Perhaps you’d already gone to sleep by then? Hmm? Such a tired little girl I carried home tonight.” He smiled and smoothed the dark, damp curls off her forehead, his thick slab of a hand bigger than her entire face. “Bran Brownbeard was a mighty mortal man, who with the help of the Queen of the sidhe and her magic, forged the Silver Caul that lies upon the moonstone globe in the great palace in the very heart of the Other World.”
“What’s a call, Papa?”
“A caul, sweetling. It’s like—like a net, or loosely woven blanket, made of purest silver.”
“How’d he do that, Papa?”
“He took silver, for silver hurts the goblin, and the sidhe, too, more than anything else—it burns them and that’s why a mortal man was needed to do it—and with the sidhe Queen of the OtherWorld, who hates the Goblin King, for he would take her kingdom if he could, together they worked great magic and made a powerful web of finest strands of purest silver. They called it the Silver Caul, and the Queen took it to her palace, and there she placed it over a great green moonstone, and there it lies to this very day, keeping the goblins out of Brynhyvar.”
“Why does silver hurt the goblins?”
“I don’t know rightly, sweetling. But it’s why we wear these—” He fumbled at the neck of his nightshirt and dangled his silver amulet on its leather cord before her.
“That’s why we must never take it off?”
