Astra and Aethir

That at least rang true, Astra thought. And it would explain why her fur cloak - a valuable item - was also missing. She looked around her. The forest appeared lush and green again. Assuming that she was awake, that must mean that at least one - and probably all - of her companions were still ensnared. Then she concentrated as hard as she could on the figure of Aethir, but this time she could not detect any flaw in the illusion, if such it was. I must remain on my guard, she thought, but for the moment I will have to take things at their face value.

With no weapon to aid him, it took several minutes for Aethir to complete the freeing of Astra, even with her own assistance. As they both tore at the vines (Astra noting that her fingernails had grown noticeably longer), Aethir said: "I should introduce myself. I am Aethir MacFionn." "I know. And I am Astra the Cursed."

Aethir frowned. "There must be a story behind that, which perhaps someday you will tell me. Though anyone who comes to the Fey Wood may be considered cursed. So how came you to the Wood on your own? Were you not warned about it?" "I might ask you the same questions. But I am not on my own - or at least I wasn't. I had three companions, and I rather expected to see them entangled in the same tree as myself, but since they are not here I assume they must be in the grip of other trees elsewhere in the forest. We must rescue them." "Who are they? And my wits must be addled, for I never thought to ask you how you knew my name."

This was the moment of truth, Astra thought, when she must decide whether this really was Aethir and, if it was, whether she should trust him in the light of what the Huntsman had claimed about him. She felt that she couldn't hope to rescue the others on her own, so it seemed as though she had no alternative. In any case, the faeries had seemed to be privy to many of her thoughts, so any attempt to be less than frank might be futile. Taking a deep breath, she began a brief recounting of how she and her companions had come to be in the Wood.

Frederigo the Oathbreaker was content. He had betrayed Astra, by abandoning her to the faeries. True, it would have been even better had she known that he had betrayed her, but it would suffice. And he had Andrea back in his grasp. He guessed that the little fool thought that through her magical ability she could control the beast within her. Though part of his bargain had been that the faeries should return Andrea's cloak to her, before they had done so he had been able to see just how far the change in her had gone. It could surely not be too long before the bestial side of her took over completely. Then she would be lost. Didn't she know that werewolves were Hell's creatures? She would have to dance to his tune then, and use her magic as he directed.

Things had worked out so conveniently. He had been very slow to realise the opportunity that the lycanthropy had presented him with, perhaps because Astra had been so resolute in holding the insidious long-term effects at bay. Andrea was a very different character, however. How lucky he had been that Astra had passed on the contagion to Andrea, especially since at the time he really had been doing his best to prevent it.

And Simon, who had posed such a threat to his plans, was no longer a problem, captive of the faeries as he was.

Queen Mab sat brooding on her bramble throne. Things had not been going well. When a party of four had entered the Fey Wood, it had given the Unseelie Court a great opportunity, for the evil reputation of the Wood meant that visitors had long been a rarity. Though Aethir MacFionn's dreams had been sustaining the Rath, yet he had not been broken, which meant that it was dangerous for the fey to rely on him. And in any case, sooner or later they would need a replacement dreamer, for even in the Wood, time - though it passed much more slowly than outside - did not stop altogether. But Aethir MacFionn had been freed, and then Mab had been forced to let two of the others go as well. At least that had meant that the overdue tithe to Hell - which her Court was at present in no position to pay - had been set aside. And now the warrior- woman had been freed. She had been young and strong, and might have given many decades - maybe even centuries - of service. That left only the old man in their power. MacFionn and the woman must not be allowed to get to him. But even if they did not do so, who could say how long he would last? The dreaming exacted a toll from the sleeper, and he was not a young man. Suppose he died within a year or two? What would they do then?

1. Meanwhile Astra had finished her tale.

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