Desperate Acts

Desperate Acts

  Kevin L. O'Brien

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  Text Copyright 2013 by Kevin L. O'Brien

  Cover design and typography copyright 2013 by Kevin L. O'Brien

  Celtic Hand font distributed under a free use license by Typographer Mediengestaltung

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  License Notes

  Please consider writing a review for this book on the retailer's website.

  If you see any misspellings or typographical errors, please notify Kevin L. O'Brien using one of his online social networks. Thank you.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents, including those based on the real world, are either products of the imagination of Kevin L. O'Brien or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Because some ebook platforms do not support special characters, certain words may appear misspelled, but this was done deliberately to avoid the problem of the platforms deleting the characters. Also, the LRF platform used by older models of the Sony Reader does not permit the use of links to external URLs, whereas the PDB platform used by Palm reading devices does not support any form of linking whatsoever.

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  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Desperate Acts

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kevin L. O'Brien

  Connect with Kevin L. O'Brien

  Sample Excerpts

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  Preface

  In "The Lions of Inganok", we discovered that the cats occasionally call on Medb hErenn's troubleshooting skills to help them with crises they cannot deal with themselves or which are too powerful for them alone. Considering how powerful the cats are as a political and social entity, they must be truly desperate to require her services.

  Back to TOC

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  The clearing inside the grove in the garden surrounding the Temple of the Great Ones in the town of Ulthar was a familiar sight to the massive woman. A baker's dozen of smooth and polished marble pillars sat in a semi-circle just off-center; on top of each laid a cat, while within the concavity lounged a mob representing every known breed, including various mixed breeds.

  As soon as she entered the assembly, a male, apple-headed, sable-point Siamese stepped forward from the pillars and cried, "Medb hErenn! You have been summoned before the Council of Elders for Her Most Serene Feline Majesty, the High Queen of All Cats Great and Small. Approach so that you may be interrogated." He spoke in the Sacred Tongue, which his people used for religious and civil ceremonies, but Medb had been initiated in the Central Mysteries of Bast long ago, and knew the language very well.

  The former queen made her way around the mob without protest. She had in fact been invited to render the Council a service, for which she would receive a handsome reward. She knew that the Herald's words were euphemisms meant to maintain an air of feline superiority over mere humans such as herself.

  Not that anything about her could be considered "mere".

  Twelve of the pillars stood only three feet high, and on these rested the members of the Council. She stepped up to the leader, a huge, scarred, gray and blue tabby tom, with ragged ears and one missing eye. He rose to a sitting position as she came near.

  She gave him a polite nod. "How may I serve this Council?"

  His reply went straight to the point: "We need you to raise a spirit."

  She narrowed her cold, emerald-green eyes. "To what purpose, Cucath?"

  "It has information that we need."

  She turned her head towards the last pillar on her right. It stood twice the height of the others, and on top in a pose identical to that of an Egyptian statue sat a sleek, cream-furred, female cat with tan points. Medb was tall enough to look directly into her golden eyes, which stared back at her with a look of majestic calm. "What sort of information?"

  The Queen spoke in a low, sultry voice. "That will be revealed when you have called it up before us."

  She turned to face her. "You know as well as I, that it is extremely dangerous to call up a spirit ill-prepared and for no good purpose."

  "You have the knowledge to accomplish it, and the power to protect yourself. And we shall aid you as necessary."

  "Very well, where is the grave?"

  "There is no grave; this is not a human spirit."

  "Then what is it?"

  "The banshee Cridedub."

  Shocked, she flinched and cried out without thinking: "You must be mad!"

  Neither the cat queen's expression nor her posture changed, but the assembled mob erupted into squalls and yowls of indignant protest, joined by a few council members. The tumult did not still until the Herald called out:

  "Let there be silence!"

  "You may well be correct," the Queen said, "but if so it is a madness born of desperation."

  "It would have to be, to take such a gamble."

  "We understand the risk."

  "I doubt that."

  "Then let us say that we are willing to take the risk, however much we have misjudged it."

  "But I am not."

  The Cat Queen cocked her head to one side. "So, you defy our command?"

  She responded with a tight smile. "You forget, Selgach Mor, the bansidh is not a spirit of the dead. It is one of the Daoine Sidhe, masquerading as a ghost."

  The cat narrowed her eyes. "On the contrary, the day I forget anything is the day I return to the Great Mother." She spoke with an edge to her voice.

  "My point is, I refuse as much for your safety as for my own. To summon one of the Daoine Sidhe against its will is to court disaster."

  "And my 'point', O Daughter of Cruacha, is that you have no choice."

  She sneered. "Are you threatening me?"

  The Queen's manner reflected one of perfect calm. "Yes, I am: you will raise Cridedub before this assembly, or you will not leave this clearing alive."

  Alarmed, she took an involuntary step back. The Queen had never threatened her before, and while she had no doubt she could escape with her life, she also knew that the mob would do her considerable harm before she could get free, and that she would have to kill a considerable number to do it. That would make her a fugitive, forever on the run, fearful of feline justice, with no place to hide.

  Still, her first thought was to refuse, and she would have if Cucath had not spoken first. "It is the advice of this Council, that should the woman Medb be reluctant to render us this service, the nature of the emergency should be explained to her, so that we may gain her enthusiastic cooperation."

  The Queen did not take her eyes off her. "Very well, I shall heed the advice of my Council. You are familiar with the machinations of the Fomorians."

  It wasn't a question, so she held her tongue. She wanted to make some suitable sarcastic remark, but she decided it wouldn't be prudent under the circumstances.

  "They once ruled the Waking World, but now they are scattered, their numbers greatly diminished, and in hiding, fearful of discovery."

  Again she said nothing. Those facts were already familiar to her, having played a significant role in breaking their power. Also, she recognized that the Queen was being pedantic.

  "In this they share common cause with the Faerie Host, who also once ruled the Waking World long before the Fomorians, and are also in hiding, fearful of human intrusion."

  That she also knew. She wished the cat would come to the point.

  "In the past, their mutually exclusive goals kept them apart, sometimes at war with each other, mostly just ignoring one another. Recently, however, we have received intelligence that Elatha, the leader of the Fomorians in the Land of the Dreams of Men, is seeking an alliance with the Fairies. He has
offered to allow them to claim the Waking World for themselves, if they help him and his brethren take over the Dreamlands. In this way, the two races may both achieve their ends without either discommoding the other."

  "Damnaigh!" She felt her blood chill. "I understand, but why take the risk of raising Cridedub?"

  "Among the Fomorians, only Elatha and his son, Bres, know the full details, but we have not the time to travel to Hazuth-kleg and seize one of them. Therefore, we must consult the Faerie Host."

  "Perhaps, but the bansidh is unlikely to know anything important."

  "True, but through her we may be able to extract what we need from those who do."

  She shook her head, her long, straight, loose gold-tinged bronze hair waving like a flag behind her back. "The Sidhe are not a...damnaigh, I forget the word."

  "Hive-mind. No, they are not, but their mutual telepathic link will allow us to search the minds of the leaders through her."

  "I cannot do that."

  "I can. All we need you to do is summon Cridedub to our presence and hold her; we