The Pillars Of The World

wingstroke, two.
    She flew over the dark horse’s head close enough for her wings to brush his ears. She glided a few feet before landing and changing shape.
    The road was fading.
    She ran back to it, throwing herself to the ground as Morphia flew out of the mist. She placed her right hand on the road and her left on the ground, digging her fingers into the earth. There was power beneath her left hand, magic enough to hold the road open a little while longer. But she couldn’t find the key to unlock that magic, so she poured what power she had of her own into the road. It gulped down her strength, sucking her dry.
    “Cullan!” Morphia cried. She threw herself on the other side of the road, following Morag’s example.
    She heard some the Fae who were still on the road shouting, screaming. A hawk flew past her. Then a swan. She caught a glimpse of a stag leaping into the human world. And she heard Morphia cry out.
    Then something clamped on her right arm, pulling her hand away from the road, cutting off the drain of her power.
    Her chest cramped. She curled into the pain, fighting to breathe. That made it cramp more, so she rolled onto her back, forcing her muscles to stretch. That hurt, but at least she could breathe.
    She opened her eyes—and stared at the dark face hovering over hers.
    “I’m all right,” she said weakly.
    The dark horse raised his head and snorted.
    “Morphia.” Morag turned her head.
    Morphia was on her feet, staggering toward Cullan, who stared at the road with shocked eyes. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. His arms came around her, but limply.
    Morag struggled to sit up. She looked behind her.
    The road was nothing more than a sparkle in the air, and even that was fading.
    “Oh, Cullan,” Morphia said. “You shouldn’t have looked for me for so long. You could have been trapped there.”
    “I—”
    Morphia had her face pressed against Cullan’s chest, but Morag saw his eyes.

    She is the Sleep Sister , Morag thought sadly. The Lady of Dreams. But some dreams are found in the heart and not in sleep, and even some of the Fae are vulnerable when it comes to those kinds of dreams. He wasn’t looking for you, Morphia. He waited because he didn‘t want to believe that what had happened to other Clans was happening to his own. He was leaving his Clan and going with you for his own reasons. Yes, he cared enough to tell you to go, but he wouldn’t have risked himself. If you had been lost, he would have found another lover soon and not looked back. That is our way . She wondered why the truth of that tasted so bitter.
    Cullan looked around. “Is . . . this all of us? All that is left?”
    “This is all who came through the Veil,” Morag said, slowly getting to her feet. She gripped the dark horse’s saddle for support.
    “Why did this happen?” Cullan said. “Why was this done to us?”
    “I don’t know,” Morag replied. “But the answer is here.” This road had ended in a glade. She scanned the surrounding trees, drawing on her diminished power to find another spark of magic. She found one in a tree set a little apart from the others. “I think there’s a dryad living in that tree. She might know something.”
    Near the trees was a mound of barren earth. The ghosts of a woman and a newborn babe sat on the mound, watching them sadly.
    Cold filled Morag as she stared at the grave. She wasn’t sure she wanted her questions answered, but she walked toward the tree, keeping her hand on the saddle for balance. The other Fae followed behind her.
    “I am the Gatherer,” she said when she reached the tree. “I wish to speak to you. Please.”
    Nothing stirred.
    Cullan stepped forward and said in a commanding voice, “I am a Lord of the Woods. You will attend and speak.”
    Silence.
    Then the dryad appeared from behind the tree. There was hatred in her smile.
    “The Lord commands us to attend and speak,” she said. “How grateful we are that the Lord notices us at all.”
    Cullan pointed toward where the road had been. “The road between the Veil has closed. Do you know why?”
    “I know why,” the dryad taunted. “All the Small Folk know why. Don’t the powerful Fae know why?”
    “You will remember to whom you speak and answer respectfully the questions put to you,” Cullan said.
    “Take care, Lordling,” the dryad said. “I’ve killed one man, I can kill another.” Before anyone could respond, she continued, “Why should we tell you