Ireth
Myth Weaver
I've run into a problem with my WIP Summer's Pawn. The heroes are currently in a quieter part of their quest, with no villains or allies in sight. I decided it was a good place to dispense some plot-critical information, but I'm afraid of it coming across as too info-dumpy. What makes it worse is that there are two big clumps of information and one smaller one linked together, separated only by a chapter break (which I might change in revision to keep the whole sequence together). I did try to break it up with physical description, and having the other characters talk/argue/ask questions, etc., but it still feels like a lot of information to digest in a few pages. Your advice and critique would be much appreciated.
Here's the excerpt:
Dom guided his horse carefully after Lóegaire's, mindful of the downward slope of the landscape. He kept one hand around the reins and the other arm around Ariel, his eyes narrowing as he eyed the trees and bushes on either side of their path; he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Then he remembered the Kings, and a scowl pulled at his mouth. The horse snorted and tossed its head every so often, picking up on his unease. Dom sighed and tried to calm down, for the horse's sake if not his own.
The path widened enough for him to draw abreast of Lóegaire and Vincent; he looked over at them as he did. Both were silent and grim, keeping their eyes on the path ahead. After a moment Dom broke the silence, addressing Lóegaire.
"So what exactly is this punishment King Madoc has in store for you if we don't find the princess, or for her if we do? You looked about ready to piss yourself when he gave the sentence."
Lóegaire glared at him, offended by the implication; then he turned away and answered almost inaudibly.
Dom blinked and tilted his head. "Sorry, I didn't catch that..."
Lóegaire hissed through his teeth, and answered more loudly after a pause. "Ag nascadh. It means 'binding'. For a Fae to endure such punishment is for him to be stripped of all memory of life as a Fae, bound in the body of a human babe, and sent to the mortal world as a changeling. He will live and grow as a human, and upon his death will be reborn as such again, his mind wiped clean for the next cycle, and the next, and the next. It is not performed often, or lightly."
"That doesn't sound so bad," Ariel spoke up, raising her head. "How is it such an awful punishment if the victim doesn't remember being a Fae in the first place?"
Lóegaire halted his horse and turned in the saddle to face her; Dom quickly reined in his own horse, watching in silence. Lóegaire's eyes were hard as flint, his voice bitter.
"Imagine it. Imagine being one of us, ancient and strong, and having everything you are torn away, leaving you fragile and helpless. You may not recall just what you used to be, but you always know that you were once more than you are. Perhaps you have some features that do not seem fully human... angled eyes, slightly pointed ears, skin a few shades too pale. Imagine that knowledge, knowledge without memory, gnawing and nagging at the back of your mind, slowly driving you mad. Now imagine facing it again, and again, and again, unable even to find release in your many deaths. Not even oblivion, which is all true Fae have to hope for when we die. That is why it is a terrible fate. To be nasctha* is to die a thousand deaths, where even one would be hated and feared."
He turned to the fore and spurred his horse onward without another word.
Dom stared dumbfounded after him for a long moment. He had always known the Fae had a twisted sense of judgment, but that was a whole new level of disturbing. He shook his head and rode on, coming up beside Lóegaire again.
"How do you know so much about this punishment? Who was the last person to suffer it?"
Lóegaire turned to glower at him again, but answered with a sigh. "A thousand years ago, when I was a child, King Finvarra had a son named Aimhirghin. He committed treason against his Court and King, though what he did, I do not know. It took many members of both Courts to bind him; my father and mother were among them. As far as I know, Aimhirghin has not been released, nor broken his binding."
"Do you think you or Méabh have a chance to be released?" Ariel asked, hesitant.
Lóegaire shrugged one shoulder. "Whichever one of us takes the punishment will be released when the Courts decide we have learned our lesson, however long it takes. I do not anticipate either of us being able to break the binding ourselves for quite some time, if at all. I believe it would require us regaining our memories of being Fae, and that would not come easily. Such is the entire point of the ordeal."
Vincent looked over his shoulder at Lóegaire. "What I want to know is, if it's so common for Fae princes and princesses to commit treason against their parents, why in Faerie do the Kings and Queens keep having children? You're immortal, for heaven's sake--it's not as though you have to worry about producing heirs before you get old and die."
"I cannot justify or explain Aimhirghin's actions," said Lóegaire. "It may be his charge was overblown, as with Méabh's. As for children... some desire them more than others, but they are after all a natural occurrence, even with our low fertility rate. We tend to have more success when mating with mortals than with other Fae."
"Or stealing other people's children," Dom growled. "What on Earth would make you so desperate for a child that you'd try to take one right out of her father's arms--over her mother's body, no less?"
Lóegaire looked away again. "That is a long story."
"Well, it's not like we don't have time for it," said Dom. "I for one would appreciate knowing exactly why we all believe in Fae."
"As would I," Vincent added.
Lóegaire held his silence, until at last Ariel spoke up. "If anyone would appreciate knowing that, it's me."
He closed his eyes briefly and sighed, then kept his gaze firmly on the path ahead. "Very well. But I will warn you now, I doubt that you will like what you hear. Do not think too ill of me."
"We'll decide that for ourselves," said Vincent. "Go on, then."
[chapter break]
"Many years ago," Lóegaire began, "Princess Méabh and I held deep affections for one another, but King Madoc forbade us from courting. Still we met in secret, disguised under Glamour and giving false names to avoid detection. One night she told me that she had grown tired of us hiding our true selves from each other; she wished to make love to me as herself, and asked that I would do the same. And so we did. But our sweetest night together turned into our bitterest. Fiachra beheld us together and rushed to tell the King, and we were brought before him in shame."
Lóegaire's mouth twisted, and his voice grew harsh. "King Madoc cursed us both, so that neither of us would ever bear or father a child by any lover, for to be a parent was my chief desire aside from my love for Méabh. From that night forth I grew ever more desperate to have a son or daughter to call my own, someone whom I could cherish without fear of reproach."
"Even if you had to steal someone else's child to do it," Vincent concluded. He clenched his fists until the knuckles turned white. "I understand that's the normal way of things among your kind. But why Ariel? Why this one girl out of thousands, millions?"
"Initially it was you who drew my attention, as you sang to your dying wife," he answered with a rueful smile. "I saw her beauty even in death, and I knew the babe clutched in your arms would surely bear the same."
"But we were in a hospital, surrounded by steel. Were you really so desperate as to risk that sort of discomfort or even harm, even with two other Fae beside you?"
"Anyone may do what seems insane in the name of love."
"That doesn't make it the right thing to do," said Vincent. "You tried to tear my family apart. I had just lost my wife, and you wanted to take my daughter from me as well. You call that love? Did you even stop to think about what your actions might mean to the people whose lives you would have ruined? You and your friends are the reason my family and I believe in Fae! Which means--"
He stopped, then laughed bitterly at the thought. "That means everything that happened to us this past winter was your fault!"
Lóegaire turned on him, bristling. "How dare you! I had no hand in Fiachra's ambitions!"
"Maybe not," Vincent seethed, "but you're the one who made it possible for him to kidnap Ariel. He only took her because she believed in his kind, in your kind, aside from thinking her beautiful. She believes in you because I do, after I saw your friend bleeding and knew he wasn't human. If you hadn't chosen her above all others, we'd still be living in blissful ignorance of your people, and nothing that happened last winter would have gone as it did. King Madoc would still have his son, you and Méabh would both be free, and I wouldn't have to choose between giving up everything I know and love or letting a friend suffer a fate worse than death!"
Lóegaire shook his head. "Not everything. You will still have your family. I stand to lose all that I hold dear, whether we succeed or fail. I will lose either my beloved alone, or my life as I know it, including her."
- - -
Translation: nasctha = bound
Here's the excerpt:
Dom guided his horse carefully after Lóegaire's, mindful of the downward slope of the landscape. He kept one hand around the reins and the other arm around Ariel, his eyes narrowing as he eyed the trees and bushes on either side of their path; he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Then he remembered the Kings, and a scowl pulled at his mouth. The horse snorted and tossed its head every so often, picking up on his unease. Dom sighed and tried to calm down, for the horse's sake if not his own.
The path widened enough for him to draw abreast of Lóegaire and Vincent; he looked over at them as he did. Both were silent and grim, keeping their eyes on the path ahead. After a moment Dom broke the silence, addressing Lóegaire.
"So what exactly is this punishment King Madoc has in store for you if we don't find the princess, or for her if we do? You looked about ready to piss yourself when he gave the sentence."
Lóegaire glared at him, offended by the implication; then he turned away and answered almost inaudibly.
Dom blinked and tilted his head. "Sorry, I didn't catch that..."
Lóegaire hissed through his teeth, and answered more loudly after a pause. "Ag nascadh. It means 'binding'. For a Fae to endure such punishment is for him to be stripped of all memory of life as a Fae, bound in the body of a human babe, and sent to the mortal world as a changeling. He will live and grow as a human, and upon his death will be reborn as such again, his mind wiped clean for the next cycle, and the next, and the next. It is not performed often, or lightly."
"That doesn't sound so bad," Ariel spoke up, raising her head. "How is it such an awful punishment if the victim doesn't remember being a Fae in the first place?"
Lóegaire halted his horse and turned in the saddle to face her; Dom quickly reined in his own horse, watching in silence. Lóegaire's eyes were hard as flint, his voice bitter.
"Imagine it. Imagine being one of us, ancient and strong, and having everything you are torn away, leaving you fragile and helpless. You may not recall just what you used to be, but you always know that you were once more than you are. Perhaps you have some features that do not seem fully human... angled eyes, slightly pointed ears, skin a few shades too pale. Imagine that knowledge, knowledge without memory, gnawing and nagging at the back of your mind, slowly driving you mad. Now imagine facing it again, and again, and again, unable even to find release in your many deaths. Not even oblivion, which is all true Fae have to hope for when we die. That is why it is a terrible fate. To be nasctha* is to die a thousand deaths, where even one would be hated and feared."
He turned to the fore and spurred his horse onward without another word.
Dom stared dumbfounded after him for a long moment. He had always known the Fae had a twisted sense of judgment, but that was a whole new level of disturbing. He shook his head and rode on, coming up beside Lóegaire again.
"How do you know so much about this punishment? Who was the last person to suffer it?"
Lóegaire turned to glower at him again, but answered with a sigh. "A thousand years ago, when I was a child, King Finvarra had a son named Aimhirghin. He committed treason against his Court and King, though what he did, I do not know. It took many members of both Courts to bind him; my father and mother were among them. As far as I know, Aimhirghin has not been released, nor broken his binding."
"Do you think you or Méabh have a chance to be released?" Ariel asked, hesitant.
Lóegaire shrugged one shoulder. "Whichever one of us takes the punishment will be released when the Courts decide we have learned our lesson, however long it takes. I do not anticipate either of us being able to break the binding ourselves for quite some time, if at all. I believe it would require us regaining our memories of being Fae, and that would not come easily. Such is the entire point of the ordeal."
Vincent looked over his shoulder at Lóegaire. "What I want to know is, if it's so common for Fae princes and princesses to commit treason against their parents, why in Faerie do the Kings and Queens keep having children? You're immortal, for heaven's sake--it's not as though you have to worry about producing heirs before you get old and die."
"I cannot justify or explain Aimhirghin's actions," said Lóegaire. "It may be his charge was overblown, as with Méabh's. As for children... some desire them more than others, but they are after all a natural occurrence, even with our low fertility rate. We tend to have more success when mating with mortals than with other Fae."
"Or stealing other people's children," Dom growled. "What on Earth would make you so desperate for a child that you'd try to take one right out of her father's arms--over her mother's body, no less?"
Lóegaire looked away again. "That is a long story."
"Well, it's not like we don't have time for it," said Dom. "I for one would appreciate knowing exactly why we all believe in Fae."
"As would I," Vincent added.
Lóegaire held his silence, until at last Ariel spoke up. "If anyone would appreciate knowing that, it's me."
He closed his eyes briefly and sighed, then kept his gaze firmly on the path ahead. "Very well. But I will warn you now, I doubt that you will like what you hear. Do not think too ill of me."
"We'll decide that for ourselves," said Vincent. "Go on, then."
[chapter break]
"Many years ago," Lóegaire began, "Princess Méabh and I held deep affections for one another, but King Madoc forbade us from courting. Still we met in secret, disguised under Glamour and giving false names to avoid detection. One night she told me that she had grown tired of us hiding our true selves from each other; she wished to make love to me as herself, and asked that I would do the same. And so we did. But our sweetest night together turned into our bitterest. Fiachra beheld us together and rushed to tell the King, and we were brought before him in shame."
Lóegaire's mouth twisted, and his voice grew harsh. "King Madoc cursed us both, so that neither of us would ever bear or father a child by any lover, for to be a parent was my chief desire aside from my love for Méabh. From that night forth I grew ever more desperate to have a son or daughter to call my own, someone whom I could cherish without fear of reproach."
"Even if you had to steal someone else's child to do it," Vincent concluded. He clenched his fists until the knuckles turned white. "I understand that's the normal way of things among your kind. But why Ariel? Why this one girl out of thousands, millions?"
"Initially it was you who drew my attention, as you sang to your dying wife," he answered with a rueful smile. "I saw her beauty even in death, and I knew the babe clutched in your arms would surely bear the same."
"But we were in a hospital, surrounded by steel. Were you really so desperate as to risk that sort of discomfort or even harm, even with two other Fae beside you?"
"Anyone may do what seems insane in the name of love."
"That doesn't make it the right thing to do," said Vincent. "You tried to tear my family apart. I had just lost my wife, and you wanted to take my daughter from me as well. You call that love? Did you even stop to think about what your actions might mean to the people whose lives you would have ruined? You and your friends are the reason my family and I believe in Fae! Which means--"
He stopped, then laughed bitterly at the thought. "That means everything that happened to us this past winter was your fault!"
Lóegaire turned on him, bristling. "How dare you! I had no hand in Fiachra's ambitions!"
"Maybe not," Vincent seethed, "but you're the one who made it possible for him to kidnap Ariel. He only took her because she believed in his kind, in your kind, aside from thinking her beautiful. She believes in you because I do, after I saw your friend bleeding and knew he wasn't human. If you hadn't chosen her above all others, we'd still be living in blissful ignorance of your people, and nothing that happened last winter would have gone as it did. King Madoc would still have his son, you and Méabh would both be free, and I wouldn't have to choose between giving up everything I know and love or letting a friend suffer a fate worse than death!"
Lóegaire shook his head. "Not everything. You will still have your family. I stand to lose all that I hold dear, whether we succeed or fail. I will lose either my beloved alone, or my life as I know it, including her."
- - -
Translation: nasctha = bound