Chapter 2 - De Mal en Pis

"From Bad to Worse"

It took almost 72 hours of near constant hallway stalking before Ailith saw Nuala again. Even then, she was usually attended by some combination of armed escorts, researchers, Abe, researchers and Abe. It wasn't until Nuala had managed to slip out of a rapid succession of hushed meetings in the library's main conference annex that Ailith found her chance.

From a point near the brown Wright Ocean Floor globe, Ailith watched as Nuala, now clad in a pale blue serf-hooded dress, made her way quietly down from the upper balcony towards the safety of Bruttenholm's massive mahogany desk tucked beneath, out of sight of anyone coming out of the conference doors above. The tattered Princess wasted no time in slumping wearily into the leather chair before a great sigh left her dragging the remains of herself into a small pile.

With little else to go on, Ailith opted for the concerned approach. "Are you ok?"

Nuala startled, the leather chair creaking through an unexpected swivel. But her reactionary terror was short-lived.

"Oh, I am sorry. I had not seen you there." Nuala made to stand.

"No, it's ok." Ailith pushed up from her artfully arranged rug furrows and padded delicately over to the desk. "I was just returning some of the poetry books I borrowed and I got caught up in the Many-Colored Fairy books again. I never get to take them out so I have to read them here."

"Colored Fairy books?" Nuala regarded her coolly.

"Yes." Ailith looked down at the book in her hands as she started to fidget. "The Andrew Lang fairy books. They're fairy tales." She coughed. "From all over the world. But the copies they have here are really old and the bindings are starting to fray. See?"

She offered the book, yellowed pages peeking out from underneath a gilded blue linen cover with embossed lettering reading "The Blue Fairy Book." As Nuala carefully examined it, Ailith continued.

"It has so many of my favorites; Why the Sea is Salt, Toads and Diamonds, The Brave Little Tailor, and Felicia and the Pot of Pinks."

Nuala smiled as she gently placed the time-bent volume onto the desk. "You like fairy tales?"

The girl shrugged. "Sometimes. With everything that happens here, they seem like the kind of thing one should know."

The Princess's lips evened to a line. "And where do you come from? What brought you to this place?"

"Hmmm? Oh. I'm not really sure." Ailith took a seat at the far end of the piles of desk papers on the lid of an old sea captain's chest. She had told this story so many times before it was nearly automatic. "It's all pretty dim. Sometimes I see fragments of what I think must be memories but then I start to think I'm just confusing them with dreams. Or maybe just scenes I made up in my own head. The only real concrete memory I have is from a few years ago, I think. There was a man in Rock Creek Park, he was shot by these two men trying to steal his wallet. His name was Tom, the man who was shot. I remember seeing him lying in the grass, he was bleeding and scared. I remember walking over to him and telling him not to be afraid, that everything was going to be alright. I'm not sure how I knew he was going to be OK but as I watched, I could see the blood that was spreading on his shirt was stopping, and then it was like it…. reversed, or something. It bled back just as it had come out. His shirt wasn't even stained. I held his head in my hands but he kept telling me to run away, that the men who had shot him would come back. Even stranger, I remember telling him that they wouldn't, that the men with the gun had angered the trees and that they wouldn't be coming back. Not ever. But I don't remember why I told him that or what I meant by it. I can only remember that it had something to do with the blood going back, something about blood and trees and the water from tears and something else. The last thing I can remember before here then was a light. There was a light in the trees and it was coming towards us. And then that's it."

She chuckled nervously under the unwavering gaze of the elven princess. "Or maybe I'm just too into fairy tales."

I vaguely remember coming here." Ailith continued after a moment. "They said that an agent found me wandering in the park, blood all over my hands and my face. I was cut up pretty badly and I guess someone had called the police to report a strange, injured, girl hiding in the trees. B.P.R.D monitors all of those frequencies and I suppose it's a good thing they got there first. I'm not really sure where I would have ended up if they hadn't. I found out later that there really were two men dead in the woods. One was found wrapped in the roots of a giant oak tree, strangled. The second was somehow buried in its trunk, like the tree had just grown over him. I never found out if Tom was OK, though. The agents told me they never found anyone else."

"And before that?"

"Nothing. There's nothing before that." She blinked rapidly in thought. "I mean, obviously there should be, but it's just…. gone. Whatever it was. Whoever I was."

Nuala studied the girl again, frustrated with herself that she could not tell what manner of fae she was. The Elves of Bathmoora, as the ruling class, had always been keen on knowing all manners, variations, and species of magical beings in their kingdoms but this one continued to confound her. She knew of many elfin creatures, some more in appearance like the elves of tradition and others less so, but she knew of none with crackled skin or any for whom the trees themselves might call upon Ogham itself to defend. She knew the signs of an ogam airenach, a Shield Ogham of The Trees Who Feed Upon Blood when she heard it. But such magic was unheard of in these times.

"And what about you?" Ailith countered with a wry smile. "What brought you here?"

"Abraham, apparently." Nuala smiled dryly. "Before that, my brother. How much do you know of this story?"

"I know it was you who saved everyone in County Antrim. I know you killed yourself to do it and that your death somehow caused the death of your brother before he could…. destroy the world?"

Nuala nodded. "My brother and I are twins. For Elf-kind this is a most rare and mystic event. He and I are bound by a sacred link wherein we share all that we experience. Whatever wounds we suffer, we suffer together. Whatever hurts or violations are meted upon one of us, it is meted upon the other as well. That is why, in the end, when Nuada would not surrender, when he rose up from defeat to kill, filled with hatred and anger, I slew us both." Sudden tears were quickly wiped away by the sweep of a lengthy sleeve. "It was the only way to end it. Or so, that's what I had hoped."

"So…. you came back…because he did?"

"That is the only reason I can think of. Nuada must have found a way to cheat his own death but I cannot even begin to imagine how. I cannot even begin to fathom the magic it must have taken to accomplish this and for that reason, I am afraid."

Ailith shifted uncomfortably atop the chest. "I've only heard bits and pieces. I know that the spear in the other vault belongs to him, right?"

"It does. There are great legends regarding that spear, and legends upon legends of how my brother was found worthy to wield it."

"But not anymore?"

"Oh no, he still is. But his worth is twisted now by anger. Ever since the Treaty of Caer Vevenir was broken, he has thought of nothing else but laying waste to all of humanity in revenge for the destruction of the fae world."

Seeing the young girl's confusion, Nuala continued. "Long ago, there was an ancient war between Man and the Fada, the collective races of all the denizens of the magical realm. This war was started by Man's greed, his desire to consume everything in the world and claim it as his own. After the defeat of our forces at the Battle of Annwn, the master of the goblin blacksmiths offered to build my father Balor, the King, an indestructible mechanical army. My brother Nuada championed the plan and my father had them build the Golden Army, the Arm Órga. Humanity was devastated in the ensuing battles. There was so much blood, and so much death, it was declared that nothing would grow upon the battlefields for a hundred years and a day. My father was sick with guilt and he formed a new truce with the humans: Man will keep his cities and the Fada will keep their forests. My brother did not agree with the truce and left into exile shortly after. The magical crown that controlled the army, the Crown of Bathmoora, was then broken into three pieces, one going to the humans and the other two kept by the elves. My father was steward of the right half-arch, I was steward of the spire. It was my brother's return in search of that crown that led to all this. And if he had succeeded, there would be nothing left of this city or this place. Nothing left of any of us at all, I feared."

Ailith continued to fret pensively, her hand once again finding the necklace and rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. "Do you think they will kill you then?"

"I don't know. When Nuada comes, and he will, they may yet again succeed in bringing him down in battle. If that is the case, it won't matter what I think. If not, then I'm not sure what happens. He won't stop, not ever, not until the world of mankind is utterly Undone. Or he is."

Ailith felt a deep sadness well up inside her. A painful, suffocating, pressure closing around her heart. Tragic stories and fairy tales were one thing but she could feel acutely the desperation and despair that chained Nuala to her misery. More than that, she felt drawn to the sorrowful Princess; kin to her in a way. For the first time, Ailith felt the absence of her own past acutely. She wished she had something to offer, some knowledge or comfort to add, but there was simply nothing there to give. They needed more than a blank slate right now.

"When will he come, do you think?"

"Soon."

And soon it was.

The anticipated assault came four days after the first snows of winter. It wouldn't occur to Ailith until later that the rather scripted nature of the attack should have been suspicious. Looking back on it, that it would end almost as theatrically as it had begun could have easily been predicted. There was even a curious sense of warning, as Nuala had been able to predict her brother's arrival several minutes before the first explosion.

It began as shockwaves rocked the main port door. As sections of the walls began to separate, staff and residents of the headquarters below were quickly evacuated into the stone shelters beneath the main hall. But for all their planning and anticipation, the attack was more coordinated than any of them had initially conjectured. Even Abe and Hellboy seemed surprised at the ferocity of the offensive. The first wave consisted of swarms of small fae, tooth fairies and pixies armed with fire-hardened trunnels. Leading them was a small band of Boxwood kobolds and two Welsh Coblyns each dressed in brightly colored, needle-felted, jackets and Phrygian caps. But even before they had fully engaged the swirling horde, the second wave broke through the east wall. Consisting of organized troupes of orcish-like Hags and sorcerous Ljósálfar, they made beelines for the vaults, breaking locks and cracking hinge gears like glass.

It was Abe who had first surmised that Nuada's forces would attempt to make an immediate bid for the spear, and as such, the vault of Claidheamh Soluis was the most heavily fortified. But it proved to nearly be the B.P.R.D.'s undoing, as the fae army opted for a more concentrated attack on the main archive sections rather than making any kind of recognizable attempts to free the legendary weapon from its iron confines. It was all-hands-on deck, but despite her willingness to fight against the invasion, Ailith found herself relegated to support tasks, though not all that far away from the sounds of battle.

Nuala remained below along with the rest of the non-combatants. Clearly tense and nearly driven to fits with each passing onslaught, she regardless maintained her composure well enough to help the others load rounds of phosphorus, suspended silver, and wrought-iron bolas wiring to be delivered to the soldiers still holding out above them. Ailith cringed each time a runner arrived with spent ordinance. Despite having no memory of any life before her time in Washington D.C., she didn't like the idea of such senseless violence and death, be it human or fae. She still didn't quite understand everything she felt she needed to, but for the moment, in the heat of conflict, it all seemed to boil down to the fae out there and the fae inside here and whoever or whatever it was that stood between them. She wasn't sure if the violence of the attack was made worse because Nuala was standing with them and not her brother or if this was just the inevitable backlash of the battle that had taken place in the Giant's Causeway. No one was interested in explaining more to her and the politics of the secluded meetings leading up to this day still eluded her. It was frustrating beyond measure. She wished that she'd had the time to speak to Nuala again, but she never seemed to be alone long enough following their last meeting; once again immersed in hushed planning sessions for precisely the current moment. The only contact they'd had was a few fleeting but knowing nods as they passed one another in the tunnels. In the end, she still felt drawn into a conflict she was now subject to but had no real part in.

It was chaos.

Ailith glanced up from her assembly table for the hundredth time. Eyeing the distance to the spiral staircase at the far end of the stone cellar serving as their hideout. A fresh plume of dust and debris filtered down through the cracks in the door above.

"You can't help them up there." Nuala offered from the far side of the table. Ailith scowled.

"Why not? My hands are already raw from these horrid wires and I understand the basics of magic. It might not be anything more than a trick or two but it can't be any worse than what they're trying now!"

Nuala held back a pained sigh. "I know, I know it's difficult but you must understand my brother is dangerous. He won't spare you because you're fae-kind as long as you stand between him and his prize."

"Prize? So, you think he's come for the spear then?"

The Princess gave an ambivalent shrug. "I can only hope that is all he seeks."

Stress finally broke Ailith's resolve. "Fine! Give it to him then! It's his after all. Why are we even doing this?!"

Troubled by this fit of temper, Nuala gave a firm response. "Because of what he will do with it once he gets it. My brother might be willing to pass over me in the interests of self-preservation, but do not be deceived! He does not mean to fight for the safe-guarding of our people, he means to bring the world down with them. This is not a war of righteous revolution, this is annihilation! He merely intends to be the last one to die."

"They've broken through the operations agents!" A breathless Aodh burst in, rushing in from the stairwell with an armload of broken phosphorus canisters. Aodh was a young Changeling, if not a particularly bright one, who had been living under B.P.R.D. charge since his parents had inadvertently run afoul of the pair of Unseelie fae that had been in the process of exchanging the human baby for their own. This peculiar fact had earned him the nickname "Cowbird" at some point, now shortened to "Cowby," but he never seemed to mind as long as he could make use of himself as a lab assistant or occasional ad-hoc cleaning staff.

Ailith winced through another pillar-shaking blast. "Did they break the vaults? How close are they?"

"I don't know. Manning is redirecting everyone to the library though. I heard that the Prince appeared in there, wielding fire magic or something. There's fire everywhere!"

"Cowby, this is no time for glee. People are dying up there!" They both ducked as pulverized stone and splinters of wood rained down from the ceiling. Several canisters, already fragile from overuse, clattered to the floor and broke apart. A series of screams echoed through the cracks from above.

"Auugh, I can't take this!" Ailith screamed.

Nuala grabbed her arm. "Ailith, it's alright. Please, you must temper yourself. We need you."

Ailith did everything she could think of: imagine a calming scene, sing her favorite song, remember her favorite poems and stories. Sourly, the only thing she seemed to be able to remember at the moment was Gailey's sad tale of "Allerleirauh Reveals Her True Self to The Prince." She cursed the obvious grasping nature of her mind's choice but the strains and verses were already playing over and over on her tongue.

I'd rather be mistaken for an animal.

If you knew what I ran from,

how my mother cursed me with golden hair, this face.

A chattering wail momentarily shook the flagstones. A stifled gasp churned through the group below.

She left me a father obsessed with her image.

I fear your eyes, just as I feared his.

This coat offers shelter.

Ailith could feel the walls closing in on her. She couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just an attack to retrieve a lost spear or a lost sister, for everyone above her, it was a last stand for any shred of hope that any future lay ahead at all.

So you put me to work in your kitchen, assumed

I was a magical beast, or a lunatic child,

and I keep dropping hints in your soup:

She dropped her work, the shards of metalwork and glass hopping away on the vibrations of battle.

one night, a tiny spinning wheel,

the next night, a gold ring

trying to tell you who I used to be.

I can dance just as I used to dance,

in dresses shining as the stars,

in dresses pale as the moon,

Suddenly, Nuala sobbed out a wrenching sound. As she fell to the floor, Cowby leapt forward to break the impact, catching the wounded Princess in his arms as he struck the paving shoulder first. A deep gash was quickly forming across her chest. From the tip of her collar bone on the right side, all the way down to her hip, the blood swelled into the fabric of her dress.

"Nuala!" Ailith yelled, nearly tripping herself on the table leg in her haste to get to her.

"No!" The Princess cried in return. "No, this is as it should be. It is almost over." The tears she shed were not entirely her own.

but I am not the same princess.

In older stories, where I am a saint,

I never even get to the safety of you.

A second insult opened up Nuala's left thigh. Biting back her pain, she barely noticed the third wound beginning to trace its way from her ear down her neck, snaking backwards towards her exposed shoulder blade.

Cowby was at an utter and helpless loss. Doing his best to stanch the wounds, he clearly could hardly believe his own eyes as new cuts and slices began appearing everywhere out of nothing on the frail body held tightly in his lap.

"Nuala!" Ailith took hold of the Princess's hands. "Nuala, what do I do?! How do I stop it?"

The lady was calm, almost a statue once again. "It's ok." She smiled through mourning eyes. "It's ok, I'm ready. It's going to be fine…. I…."

My disguises fail. I am found by my father.

Sometimes, he cuts off my hands;

other times, he cuts out my tongue.

She didn't stop. She didn't think. She was driven by a force outside of her control.

"Wait!" Cowby managed before the girl vanished into the choking clouds and out of the small room. By the time the Changeling had figured out which direction she had gone, Ailith was already up the stairwell and half-way down the main corridor. She wasn't entirely sure what it was that she had planned, but she hoped to all that was divine in the world that she would know what to do when the moment came.