Half the clansfolk called out their agreement.
“We’ll take the word of the gods to the Clancies next,” Gar assured her. “If they march against you, the Little People will mow them down!”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Grandma snorted, “but if you’re going to talk to them, stranger, you’d better hurry. Night’s fallen, and they could be sending out ambush parties this very minute!”
“Oh, we’ll tell them, and quickly,” Gar assured her. “Come, friends!” He whirled away toward the door.
Alea pivoted to follow him. Kerlew and Moira stared, caught flat-footed, then hurried to catch up.
Gar turned about in the doorway, raising an arm in warning. “You’ve heard the word of the gods, and if you disobey it, there will be nothing I can do to save you! Farewell—and whether you believe in them or not, honor your gods!” With that, he spun about, cloak swirling, and strode off into the night, his companions around him.
The door closed behind them, and the clansfolk stood staring, frozen by the enormity of having seen and heard the unthinkable.
Then Grandma thawed and turned to Rhys. “Hurryl Send the captains out to the north pasture! Patrick’s squad to the east boundary, hiding in the scrub brush! Caitlin’s squad to the west windbreak, in among the pines! The rest of you move from cover to cover! If the Clancies are coming, we’ll outflank them, and if they aren’t, we’ll take them by surprise while they’re still numb from listening to those preachers!”
“But-but Grandma,” said one of the middle-aged men, “the Old Ones…”
“You really believe what those addlepates said?” Grandma scoffed. “Mooncalves, every one of ‘em—crazy as loons and walleyed as pikes! Old Ones obeying the New People’s gods indeed! When have you ever known the Wee Folk to strike at more than one person at a time? What are you all, a bunch of overgrown children, ready to believe whatever song you’re sung?”
That stung; the people frowned, anger stirring, muttering darkly.
“Out upon ‘em, then!” Grandma called. “The Clancies just might believe those preachers, like the half-wits they are, and if they do, we’ll never have a better chance of catching them with their guards down! Get out there into those woods and move silent as moonlight! Surround their house, then bust in and clean them out! when you’re done, burn the place down for good measure! Go on, now, GO!”
16
Alea led the way out of the Clancy clan’s great house and gazed up at the stars, drawing her cloak about her and shivering. “Midnight, Gar.”
Gar nodded. “A good time for bad things to happen.”
“Bad things indeed,” Moira said darkly.
“You can feel them, can’t you?” Alea asked Gar. “The Learies, moving up through the pitch-dark woods to surround this house?”
“How do you know that?” Kerlew asked, eyes wide.
“How do you make your satires actually hurt?” Gar countered.
“You’d better start composing them,” Alea said, “one for the Learies and one for the Clancies.”
“This can’t be!” Kerlew protested. “They believed us!”
“Grandma Clancy didn’t,” Alea told him.
Moira’s lips thinned. “She will when the Old Ones have done with them.”
“The Learies are still half a mile away,” Gar said, “and Grandma Clancy is back inside that house whipping her people into a fighting rage at the thought that the Learies might be creeping up on them like treacherous snakes—”
“She should know,” Moira said sourly. “Make that one satire against any who fight in defiance of Danu’s wishes, Kerlew. Both bands mean mayhem.”
“They do indeed,” Alea agreed, “and we don’t want to get caught between them when the bullets start flying. Come on, friends! Away from this place!”
They struck out uphill. Half an hour later and well above the treetops, they looked down on the Clancy homestead, tranquil in the still night—but Alea could read the homicidal thoughts both inside it and out, and shuddered.
She wasn’t the only one. On the hillside across from hers, a furry globe-shaped alien with tiny cat-ears grinned, showing very sharp teeth. “Strike at the first shot,” she told the gauzy-winged creature that hovered before her face. “Don’t worry, I’ll lend your minds more than enough power to lay them low. Has each one of your people chosen a Clancy?”
“Yes, and each elf is pacing a Leary, ready to fire a bolt,” the fairy answered. “Speak, Bighead; and we shall loose our wrath upon them!”
A burst of flame blossomed in the woods below. “Loose!” Evanescent snapped.
The sound of the shot reached them as several more fireflowers bloomed at the narrow windows of the great house. “Now do as my New People have promised,” the alien purred, and sat back to watch the shortest war humans ever waged.
Aran Leary cried out and dropped his rifle, clutching his head as he sank to his knees.
“What ails you, Aran?” Caitlin cried.
Aran screamed and rolled on the ground.
“Rhys, see where he’s shot!” Caitlin snapped. “Aran, cease that weakling’s wailing! You want every single Clancy to know where we are?” As Rhys dove to see to Aran, Caitlin turned back to business, raising her rifle and sighting.
Fire flared in her belly. She dropped her weapon, folding over the pain, trying to stifle a scream and failing.
On the other side of the house, Patrick hissed, “Fire!” and a dozen Learies leveled their weapons, not seeing the darts that flew at them out of the darkness.
“Ow!” One swatted at his neck.
“Blast!” another clapped a hand over her arm. “What the blazes…”
“Damn big mosquitoes here!” A third clamped his lips against the urge to cry out. Then they all went rigid.
“What ails you slackers?” Patrick hissed. “Fire!” Then pain bit the back of his neck; he slapped at it, then froze. He tottered and fell just as his squad did, then screamed in agony as fire seemed to course through his veins.
Inside the house, Zachariah Clancy wondered, “Why the hell don’t they shoot again?”
“We saw their rifle flashes,” Amanda told him. “We can fire there again.”
“A Leary just might be stupid enough to hang around waiting for a second shot,” Zachariah allowed. “Let ‘em have it!” Then he looked up, staring in disbelief out the window.
“Zachariah!” Malcolm cried. “Look there—a fairy!” Then he clutched his head and roared with pain.
Zachariah didn’t pay much attention. He was too busy rolling on the floor and bellowing with pain of his own.
Atop the northern hill, Kerlew stood with his arms upraised, chanting,
He stood a moment, frowning down at the valley uncertainly, then turned to Gar and Alea. “How was that?”
“Not exactly great literature,” Gar judged, “but it seems to have been effective.”
“Too effective.” Alea’s face was strained; drops of sweat appeared on her brow. “At least, with help from the Old Ones, it is. Give them relief, Kerlew: Let’s see if they’ve learned their lesson yet.”
“As you say.” Kerlew spread his hands and began to intone a verse that would relieve the pain.