by Billy Wong
"You're a brave lass, and you won't have to worry about the 'monster' anymore. He's dead—I killed him."
"You did? I don't see his body."
"He ran, but he was mortally wounded. I wasn't lying when I took credit for his defeat."
Prue looked at Lance, who nodded. "She's telling the truth. Mildy's one of the finest warriors I've ever met."
The girl turned back to Mildy and gaped. "Wow, you must be just like Boudica, or Camilla..."
With a start, Ares turned to Mildy. "I can't believe she knows of Camilla."
"You can never tell, huh? I'd sure like not to end up as badly as them, though. Not looking forward to a tragic death."
"I'm sure God wouldn't do that to you," Lance said. "I can tell he loves you, just to have given you the prowess he has."
Mildy sighed. Even he couldn't accept that she was as good as she was, just because. It had to be divine favor. Not that she wasn't grateful to God, but she deserved some credit too, didn't she? After all, not many priests could have survived the battles she had.
#
Ironheart crashed through the forest with a wild desperation, barely able to keep going with the pain and dizziness which filled his head. He knew he was dying. His skull was crushed on the upper left side, and the blood running down his face had obscured the vision of that eye. His right eye too grew ever more glazed, but he realized now that his adversaries did not pursue.
A little longer and it'd be too late, but Ironheart knew exactly where he had left his salvation. He knelt, barely managed to remove his backpack without collapsing in a fatal swoon, and began to root about in it with leaden hands.
Feeling its unmistakable warmth on his numbing skin, he raised the chalice to his lips and drank, the elixir that would cure his ills filling his greedy mouth. He felt his skull knit together, God's grace saving him from certain doom. The clarity returned to his senses, and he smiled. His Lord would not allow him to fall so easily to the devil's allies, and he would soon deliver His justice upon the ones who'd wronged him.
#
As the sky darkened with the coming of night, the unicorn stirred and opened his black eyes. Raising his head off the ground, he looked around for something. Prue, Ares realized. But the girl had left hours ago, citing her parents' inclination to worry if she came home late. Ares petted Irethine's silky mane. "She's not here right now, but she's fine. I'm sure she'll come back to check on you soon."
The unicorn rose, shook his head like a great wet dog, and walked towards Mildy's weathered tent. He began to nudge it with his snout. Mildy, who had already gone to bed an hour ago, cried, "What the hell are you doing? Can't you see I'm trying to get a good night's sleep?"
She burst out of her shelter looking ready to give the equine intruder a thrashing, and Irethine knelt as if to invite her to mount. Ares' eyes widened. "Aren't unicorns only supposed to let virgins ride them?" he asked the nearby Laerin.
"Yes, which is why I'd conclude your friend's a maiden."
"Mildy, a maiden?" He had never seen her engage in sexual activities, but he wouldn't have expected to watch either.
"Absolutely. Unicorns know these things."
Surprised the rough and rowdy Mildy could still be a virgin, Ares tried to figure out why and suppressed a chuckle. Maybe everyone was too scared of her to bed her. He walked over to her as she stared at the unicorn. "I think he wants you to get on."
"Dammit—you know why, don't you?"
"Yeah, everybody does. It doesn't matter. Purity's a virtue in women, isn't it?"
She shrugged. "I suppose so, but loneliness isn't."
No, but not getting on a horse wouldn't make her any less lonely. "Come on, Mildy. This might be your only chance to ride a fey horse."
She swung herself up onto the unicorn's back, musing when he stood, "I just wish he didn't have to treat me like such a weakling, by getting down for me. I can mount a horse just fine standing."
"Gentlemanly courtesy. Not bad for a horse."
"I wonder if he understands what we're saying?"
"He understands every word," Laerin informed them. "Don't worry, I don't think he's offended yet. And you might want to ask him to give your friend Lance a touch of his horn, in case his head's hurt worse than he lets on."
"What would that do?"
"The touch of a unicorn's horn heals the ills of the body, be they wounds or sickness."
Lance probably could use some help. The wounded knight was still asleep in his tent, perhaps not a good sign considering the amount of noise Mildy had just made. Ares nodded at her, and she said patting her mount, "Could you help our friend out? He's injured, and I'd be very grateful if you could heal him."
The unicorn trotted over to Lance's tent and nudged open the flaps with his muzzle. He ducked his head inside to touch his horn to Lance's face, causing the cut to disappear. Lance's eyes fluttered open.
"Oh? What are you doing, horsie?"
"You feel better now?" Mildy asked. She must have seen that Lance's eyes were no longer dazed, like Ares did. Lance nodded, and she grinned. "I wish I could have a unicorn with me all the time, considering how beat up I get. Now that I think of it, could you heal me too?"
Ares thought it a good enough idea, remembering her wound and the many heavy blows she'd received in the tournament. But when the unicorn touched his horn to Mildy's side, he neighed and reared, then toppled sideways.
"What happened?" Mildy asked in a small, bewildered voice. Irethine wasn't dead, his flank still rising and falling with breath, but he had dropped as though struck with a club.
"He's a young, injured unicorn," Laerin said.
"And?
"You exhausted his strength. His healing abilities aren't limitless, especially in the condition he is now, and he'd already healed Lance."
Mildy blinked. "But my wounds weren't that serious."
It certainly hadn't looked like it in recent days; she'd performed amazingly in spite of her accumulated hurts. But Ares said, "Let Lance take a look at your wound, will you? If you even made a magical creature faint trying to heal it..."
She lifted the edge of her tunic, her face reddening a bit at Laerin's stare. Ares wondered whether the fey was attracted to her or simply impressed with her strong build. "There's no sign of any wound," Lance said. "Looks like the beast healed you completely."
Mildy smiled. "It wasn't that bad of a wound. I suppose fey need their magic, what with such weak constitutions. But it would've made a big scar, if I didn't just get healed."
#
The next day, Prue came early in the morning to visit the recovered Irethine. She petted and spoke tenderly to the unicorn, but though he returned her affection with nudges and licks he did not invite her to mount. Now and then, her eyes glistened with tears. "He said goodbye," Prue told Mildy before leaving. "He'll go with you now. Take care of him."
When Prue had gone, Irethine again invited Mildy onto his back and immediately began walking towards an unknown destination. The others followed, Laerin riding Mildy's bay horse due to his lack of a steed.
"There's something I'm still confused about," she said. "Laerin, how is it that Adene died of a little scratch?"
"I wasn't sure before, but after hearing what he called himself, I think it was because of his iron weapons."
"Iron weapons?"
"Yes, iron is poisonous to us fey. Its very touch weakens us, and if it penetrates our skin, we are all but doomed."
Mildy remembered how Ironheart had miraculously overpowered the unicorn and smiled. "I suppose he wasn't superhuman after all. He cheated to beat you, didn't he?" Irethine actually nodded.
"One cheater deserves another, eh?" Lance quipped.
"Stop it. I could have taken him fair and square. I took Lamorak, remember?"
"So where do you think your horse is taking us?"
"I have no idea." But she was pretty sure it would make for a tale to remember. "Laerin?"
"I think he's taking you to the village
where I would have brought you, had I believed you."
"When will we ever go back for the dragon horde?" Ares asked. "We already stopped the killer."
"Yes," Mildy said, "and now we might get rewarded for it. Anyway, the horde's too far away, so let's wait until we have some spare time to get it."
Nothing had happened in Mildy's eyes to make anything seem amiss when suddenly Lance asked, "What the bloody hell? Where did Mildy just go?"
She looked back to see her companions only a few feet behind, though growing more distant as the unicorn continued walking. "I'm right here! Have you gone blind or what?"
They didn't seem to hear her, but she could hear Laerin perfectly well while he said, "She's crossed over into another realm. Take my hands, and I'll guide you in after her."
Lance and Ares did so, and stepping forward were able to see Mildy once more. "So this is the faerie land?" Lance mused. "It doesn't look any different to me."
"This place exists on a plane of existence which overlaps your own, which is why you can still see out of here to the mortal world. It may seem for now that not much is different from here to there, but this is a place few mortals have the privilege of seeing."
"What exactly need you do to get in here?" Ares asked.
"You can walk right in if you know where you're going—the portals are always open. But since you have to mean to enter to do so, you wouldn't exactly just stumble in. You can only see them if you're a fey, or use magic."
"You think Ironheart was a wizard?"
"It's possible, but I doubt it. I've never seen any evidence of him using magic, except perhaps to enter our sanctuary. If he had a wizard helping him, they could simply cast a spell to allow him to see the gates."
Mildy did notice a difference in the environment here, in the brighter and more vibrant coloration of the vegetation which surrounded her. The flowers and bushes and trees possessed a beauty that subtly dwarfed those of the mortal world, as if every leaf and petal were frozen in the lushest moment of its prime. Mildy even thought she beheld shades she had never seen before. "It's lovely, isn't it?"
"Looks just the same as the usual forest," Ares replied.
That didn't surprise her too much. Everybody knew women were better at seeing color, and beauty, than men. But then Lance said, "No, now that I'm looking, it is beautiful. Magnificent."
The unicorn continued into the glen, and a trio of long-haired, loosely clothed fey children ran forth to greet them. "Morties!" yelled one faerie-girl in a bright orange dress. Child talk for mortals in these parts?
"Let's play!" a boy in a light blue tunic said.
Though Mildy wasn't sure what game the children tried to play, she dismounted and let them run around her for a bit, a smile on her face. The sweet smell of flowers grew uncomfortably intense. Soon a short, willowy woman, built like a child herself, appeared and made the kids take their fun elsewhere with a glance.
The woman faced the visiting group. "Laerin. What brings you here, and why have you brought these humans into our realm?"
Laerin explained about Ironheart and his deeds. The faerie woman, revealed to be named Triona during the conversation, turned to Mildy. "So you're a warrior."
"Is there something wrong with that?" she asked. "I'm no pretender, if that's what you think. I can hold my own pretty well no matter who I fight."
Triona shook her head, smiling at Mildy's tense expression. "No, no! We've no problem with a female warrior, not like foolish humans. Though it is a curiosity, to see one like you out there in the world of man."
"I'm a bit of an outcast anyway, even without the warrior part. I'm an illegitimate princess."
"Mildy!" Lance said.
"What? It's true."
"You don't need to go around announcing it everywhere you go, even if it is."
"It is."
She realized Triona was staring at her. "Truly?"
No matter who believed otherwise, Mildy would not let go of her faith in the vision she'd had the night she became a woman. The dream in which she'd seen Arthur stab a woman with his sword, and herself form out of the resulting blood. Leveling a silencing glare at Lance, she replied, "Yes, it is."
"Who is your father?"
She stood straight and proud, holding her chin high. "King Arthur, the greatest ruler the world has ever known."
Triona's eyes widened, and Mildy knew she believed her. But why was she so shocked? The answer nearly made her faint. "Princess Mildred, your mother is here, lost in the depths of her despair. And perhaps you are the only one who can save her, Morgan le Fay, from her sickness of the soul."
Chapter 4
"But doesn't that mean I'm a product of incest?" Mildy asked numbly as Triona dragged her deeper into the faerie village, a small, disordered array of little straw and tinder huts with colorful leafy decoration and curious asymmetry. Singing and lovely music filled the air, not the product of any magic but talented fey folk dancing and playing like they had no need to do anything else.
Of course, Mildy only gave passing notice to any of this; she was quite busy feeling aghast at the prospect of being a product of sibling incest. Her heart pounded, and she held little of the anticipation she might have expected for confirming her parentage. Instead, she was stricken with dread, fists clenched and nails digging deep into her palms. Even the overwhelming flowery smell proved easy to ignore now.
"Yes, you are," Triona said. "But it wasn't your mother's fault."
All Mildy knew of her supposed mother was that she was a witch, and a fierce warrior-woman who Arthur had defeated along with her pagan allies to free Britannia from the tyranny of brutal superstition. Apparently Morgan had survived their final battle to hide among the faeries, never to be seen by mortal eyes again. Mildy wondered if her mother could have sunk so low as to seduce her own brother into giving her a child.
Triona led them before a hut with a black flap of cloth for its door. "Here she is."
Hesitating to go in, Mildy looked back at Lance and Ares, who had been quiet for some time now. The former frowned. "I suppose maybe I was wrong after all, eh?"
"I-I'm scared, Lance. This is nothing like what I'd imagined my parentage would be. I mean, I could have dealt with my mother being some barmaid, but all the stories of Morgan I've heard say she was terribly evil."
"Don't worry. Whoever your mother is, you're still you, and I love you." Her eyes widened. "Not like that, silly. You're just like the little brother I always wanted."
Little brother? Whatever.
"It... it can't be worse than not having a mother, can it?" Ares added.
Maybe. But probably not. "That faerie wasn't necessarily telling the truth either," Mildy said. "Maybe she's trying to trick me, like Laerin thought we would trick him. I'll decide what to believe after I hear it." She stepped into the hut.
On a dirty mat which passed for a bed lay a tall, scrawny woman of about fifty years. Her raven hair was a tangled mess strewn about her haggard high-cheekboned face, which must once have been lovely before the ravages of time and pain.
"Morgan?" Mildy asked.
The woman looked up with sunken eyes. Her voice came out raspy, perhaps with disuse. "You're a human. Who are you?"
"My name's Mildy, and I'm a knight. I fought a man who hunted faeries, and a unicorn I saved brought me and my friends here. Triona tells me I'm your daughter."
"Mildred?" Morgan asked, wonder widening her eyes as Mildy finally admitted this was probably indeed her mother. Even in Morgan's condition the resemblance was apparent, and while that could be attributed to faerie magic, the circumstances leading to their meeting seemed too random to be one big scheme. "You're nothing like I imagined you'd be."
"What did you imagine I'd be?"
"Skinnier. And not in the dress of the oppressors."
"Oppressors?" Mildy looked down at her armor and smiled. "No, I'm no friend of Meleagant. I killed him, actually." Then, she realized Morgan had likely never heard of Meleagant.
&nb
sp; "Knights, I meant. Knights."
"Mother, all knights aren't oppressors. We protect the people, and most of us simply expect our fair due in return." Though of course Mildy didn't get much in the way of rewards, but that was what she got for going against the norm.
Morgan's eyes lit up with rage, and her voice became a snarl. "Protectors who destroy their own kin for the sake of erasing tradition, in the name of their cruel God?"
Mildy wasn't sure what to think. On one hand, there was always bitterness on the losing side of a conflict. But she herself had seen the cruelty of some knights against people whose beliefs contradicted their own. But religious debate wasn't what she'd come here for.
"What about me, mother? How did I come to be? And why didn't you keep me?"
Morgan swallowed. "It's hard, Mildred. He harmed me greatly, more than you want to know. I don't want to relive that horror again."
"I need to know. I want to be able to trust you, but I have to hear the whole story."
"Your father, my brother, raped me." At the words, Mildy's mouth dried up like a desert. "I was too ashamed of it to keep you, and you're lucky just to be alive. I considered killing you, but instead only abandoned you, and even named you on the writing in your basket. I suppose fate intended you to live, as someone did find you in time."
"Yes, a fisherman found me and brought me to be raised by nuns, and I never knew who I was until I dreamed it. It didn't take long then before I resolved to be a knight, even if I should have dreamed of being a lady. But King Arthur would never rape anyone, least of all his sister."
"But daughter, he did."
"How? Why? Tell me everything."
"All right," Morgan said with a sigh, "I'll try. Arthur wanted to unite all of Britannia into a glorious Christian realm, but many of its people refused to submit to his rule. So with his knights, he waged war against each tribe in turn and forced their obedience. In fear of his great power, the followers of the old ways decided to band together against him."
Morgan sniffed once, and stifled further tears before continuing. "I wasn't the warrior you might think I was, though the faeries tell me legend has reshaped me in the image of an Amazon. No, I was only an ordinary noble girl, who lived in Camelot with little knowledge of violence. But the traitor knight Byron kidnapped me and gave me to the rebel tribes, who girded me in armor and forced me to march with them into many battles against Arthur's troops. I had no power to resist them, and could only watch as the people around me killed my friends. But I was no trained warrior, and my purpose only to draw Arthur's ire and hopefully cloud his wisdom with worry and rage.
