Page 61 of Burying Venus

Dermot stood beside her, watching as waves collided into rock and diminished to nothing.

‘This man observed my husband’s skill at concealing our island, and it angered him. He would not address my husband as a man. He called him a viper and announced that he would cleanse the land. I recall as if it were yesterday. He drew his blade.’ Fand stuttered, wringing her hair and pulling sharply. ‘I did nothing! Yet this mortal man, stronger than my husband despite the magic I gave to him, killed him before my very eyes! My husband ruled for years with the approval of the people. Yet as soon as the sword ran him through, the stranger took him with his own bloodied hands onto sand, finally throwing him into the ocean. My husband had been called god of the sea, then it was as if he never existed at all.’

Dermot said nothing, staring idly as flecks of tide flew onto his cheek.

‘You must pity Maldred, even if just a little. His father was murdered in front of him, and a child is not quick to forget. I can’t tell you if he can distinguish between your lords. They come from the same place, after all. Humans produce strange babes with faeries,’ Fand said.

‘Your husband was a mortal man?’ Dermot asked.

‘Did I not say? That is why he required some of my magic occasionally, else he would’ve perished.’

Fear permeating all they did, immortality was mankind’s loftiest goal. If presented with such a reward, Dermot might’ve set the castle on fire, else whittled his time away in pleasure, Maldred by his side. Rare was the man who dreamt of doing good.

Metal rattled below. Dermot faltered, dirt squelching on his heel as he watched his modest dagger transformed into a sword. Fand held it aloft as it scintillated against the rays of the sun. The hilt was embellished with an elaborate motif, one typical of their people. But the blade held no illusions; its sharpness told the tale true.

‘It is yours, Dermot,’ Fand said. Her cold hands guided him to the hilt. ‘The blade is iron. All that is needed to kill a faerie, else greatly wound. I will leave the rest to you.’

She leapt back and, with a snap of her fingers, the grey sky dispersed. The day melted into a great purple sheen that tore away heaven. It pierced across from where Dermot stood, eclipsing the sea, giving light to a murky forest that stirred and shifted with the tide.

‘The portal is open. Ordinarily, no mortal man can reach Maldred’s realm. I warn you to step lightly and fall for no wiles. And do not fear me, strike him true if you must. I have other children.’ Fand’s pale arms stretched forward, guiding Dermot. She was so thin that a mere glance revealed every bone, yet she stood as a great wraith, taller and mightier than any woman had right to be. ‘We have been away from the world here. Every word has been disguised. Whether you wish to reveal all or nothing to your companion, I will let you decide.’ She took Aubrey by the hand and led him to Dermot so they stood next to the abyss.

Dermot couldn’t even acknowledge Aubrey. He stood fixed with the sword clasped by his side, hand loosely clutching it.

‘Maldred and his kin rally and wail for the past. It is the same everywhere. Old gods have noses chiselled off, their foreheads marred, falling from their pedestals as new men come with crude tools to tear them down. Venus has been buried, but you can always dig her back up.’ Fand’s hand pressed lightly against Dermot’s back. With one humble show of strength, she pushed them both into the portal.

Chapter Thirteen

The unnaturalness of the scene was quickly made apparent. A gale hit as soon as they emerged, a familiar chill on Dermot’s skin. Trees bore no leaves, branches languished in perpetual winter though they knew no snow. A perfect misery that made a pantomime of their island.

‘Dermot,’ Aubrey said as a particularly strong gust struck. ‘Please, won’t you tell me what’s going on?’

The world revealed itself as though distorted. Trees manoeuvred themselves so that, when seen again, they were out of place. Even the colouring of the realm was twisted, black but dusted with enough light to enable them to move forward.

Dermot sighed and walked away. It would do no good to linger in Maldred’s realm. ‘It is how Fand described. Your family have been poisoned by this creature.’ He spoke haltingly and without conviction, trusting Aubrey’s naivety. The cruellest thing about the exchange was that he didn’t feel a tinge of guilt for his deception, only worry that Maldred might reveal the truth. So content was he with Aubrey’s ignorance that, given an eternity, he would’ve willingly spoken not one word more.

‘I never knew there were such things!’ Aubrey cried, quietened only by Dermot shushing him. ‘Perhaps you did, being native to these lands, but I cannot believe how we’ve been treated. That poor woman and child, and my family! Do they even know themselves?’

At Aubrey’s audacious comparison, Dermot urged him on. He couldn’t bear to listen to any defence. Aubrey was an ignorant, sheltered as he was, seeing none of the tyranny below. He was unlike Maldred, unsuspecting and without malice. Though now,for the first time, innocence grated. Robert and Tristan certainly knew themselves, the fiends, and Lord Stanley had tried to deprive them of their ancestral property.

The road was covered with dirt and became twisted as they advanced. With every step, the scene altered infinitesimally. Though Dermot was resolute, the woods themselves faltered, seemingly as bewildered as he.

‘Why would this creature torment us so?’ Aubrey said. ‘Doesn’t it see that everyone has been hurt?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dermot said. If Aubrey saw them together, surely a conclusion would be drawn. ‘Fand told me he may not be able to distinguish one human from the other. If he believes himself wronged, he will punish us all.’

‘I’m scared. What if he casts a spell on us? We don’t know…’ Aubrey murmured, startling as the path twisted again.

‘I think we’ve had enough speculation there,’ Dermot said. So far, faeries hadn’t proved particularly strong. Their power was trickery and subterfuge, not brute force.

‘Will killing this creature save my family?’ Aubrey asked.

‘It can’t undo what’s been done,’ Dermot said slowly. Rancid smoke struck them as he discerned a pair of faeries through the smog. A man and a woman were gazing sullenly at them, lying nude beneath a tree.

Seizing Aubrey by the shoulder, Dermot continued in the other direction. The hilt of his sword sheened in the light of the crescent above. He watched the moon haltingly, incredulous as it shifted into aunt and nephew, hanging dead from the pyre. His actions repeated in the vision, including the night’s pleasures with Maldred. His own wretched desire lay bare as innocents were snuffed out, and he could do nothing but cry out in horror.

‘No!’ Dermot screamed. He went down as though he’d been stabbed himself. Laughter was the only reply, sweet and saccharine, as he cried, ‘I lit the pyre. I struck the boy first!’

Dermot lurched, mud squelching uncomfortably against his backside. Chest heaving with exertion, he met Aubrey’s eyes again, so black that flames reflected like a mirror to his soul. ‘You Stanleys are the bane of my life! And you, Robert, by far the worst! Why did I have to light it? Why couldn’t you have done it!’