honor, let discussions progress civilly, and remember that I—Ginty McClintlock, of the McClintlock clan of the Cascade Dwarves—am your moderator and mediator, and my rule as such supersedes all other authority while we are in this Waystation.”
After he finished reciting the Oath of Parley, he pulled out a long scroll covered in small print. “If you stay, you agree to the rules. If you disagree, leave now, or be bound to the parley. I have spoken and so it is done.”
He waited, but no one said a word. Now was the time for objections if anybody decided they didn’t want to proceed. After a moment, he set down the scepter and the scroll. “Then, if you are all agreed, I shall open the parley. Herne, son of Cernunnos, you have the rights of first speech.”
With a long sigh, Ginty sat down next to me. He looked harried, but he always took the parleys seriously. If something went wrong, it was up to him to put a stop to it. He was the keeper of the Waystation, with absolute authority.
Herne cleared his throat as he leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Queen Saílle, Queen Névé, we come to ask a boon from you. A serious situation has arisen. It seems as though Typhon is making his first move.”
“Continue,” Saílle said, her voice catching on the wind and vanishing almost before we could hear it.
Herne explained the situation, and when he came to the part about the reports we had seen on the news, Ginty pushed a television set over to where we could all see it. I wasn’t clear on how he managed to get the signal in here, but he did. He turned the TV on just in time to see the same footage we had seen before. Saílle and Névé watched silently, and it was impossible to read their expressions.
“This is only going to get worse. You know it. We know it. There’s no denying the fact that Typhon is here to stay until the gods can figure out what to do with him. And I will tell you this quite honestly, we are nowhere near to having an answer. We haven’t even figured out how he was sent into stasis in the first place. Until we know that, we can’t figure out how to send him back, or even if it’s possible to do so again.”
“This is troubling news indeed,” Saílle said. She glanced across the room at Névé. “Have you noticed any uprisings among the dead?”
Névé shook her head. “But then again, that’s not something we keep watch for. What do you wish from us, Herne, son of Cernunnos?”
“We would ask that you give us control over the Fae militia. Give us the ability to call them out on situations like this. Humans cannot stand against these creatures, and who knows what else the dragons have up their sleeves? We need patrols who can fight supernatural creatures. The Fae have an edge with their strength and speed.”
“Are we the only ones you’re asking to risk life and limb?” Névé asked.
Herne shook his head. “No, we’re also approaching the Shifter Alliance and the Vampire Nation. We hope to form a united front. I know that you aren’t especially fond of shifters or vampires, but this is a worldwide threat. Every single one of us faces the danger, and my father wants us to work together. I ask that you put aside your arguments once again to form a truce. I can’t tell you how much it will strain the Wild Hunt’s resources if we have to settle squabbles between the two of you, and go after those summoned by Typhon’s emissaries.”
I had the feeling neither Saílle nor Névé cared for his tone, but they weren’t stupid. I hoped they would make the right decision.
“How much control over the Fae militia do you seek?” Saílle gave me a long look. I couldn’t figure out why, but she was staring intently at me.
“I echo that question,” Névé added.
“We would like the ability to call out the militia when needed, and the authority to give them orders.” Herne paused, then added, “We don’t seek to co-opt them for good. But if we are to make a united front against Typhon and his children, then we must work together. I cannot stress enough that we don’t dare approach this haphazardly. Someone has to be in charge of the master plan against Typhon, and in this quarter of the world, I’m