Reckonings

by Carla Jablonski

  Fear crept into Mary, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. “What kind of trials will I face?” she asked, her voice quavering a little.

  Tamlin stroked her hair. “You must pull me down from the horse that I ride at the first stroke of midnight. You must hold me until the final one has sounded.”

  “That doesn’t sound so hard,” Mary said.

  “The Queen will fight you,” Tamlin explained. “She will transform me into all sorts of beasts. She will try to harm you through me. But if you don’t let go, I will be yours.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  The image faded.

  Tim had to find out what happened next. He tossed another berry into his mouth.

  It was cold and dark. There was no moon, making it darker still. Mary paced by a willow tree at the edge of a meadow. An enormous ring of toadstools circled the meadow—Tamlin had told her this was the sign of the spot at which they would enter from Faerie.

  Tim could feel both Mary’s fear and her resolve. She shuddered against the cold wind, terrified she’d fail and afraid of what she would face. But she was determined to win Tamlin his freedom.

  She started at the sound of tinkling bells. Her mouth dropped open as the air in the center of the fairy ring rippled and an enormous golden horse slipped through what seemed to be a slit in the atmosphere. The horse stamped the ground with its front hoof, then whinnied and reared on its hind legs, as if it were announcing its presence.

  As glorious as the proud horse was, it could not compare with the exquisite, haughty beauty of its rider.

  She is every inch a queen, Mary thought. Queen Titania seemed to be made of moonlight; everything about her shimmered, twinkled, sparkled. Even the moonless night sky glowed brighter around her. She wore the same flower garlands twisted through her long hair as those braided in her steed’s mane and tail.

  And yet, Mary thought, smiling, Tamlin chose me, plain Mary Cavanaugh from Birmingham, over that astounding and powerful beauty. Pride filled Mary with courage. She was ready.

  “Join me!” Titania cried. Dozens of horses and riders appeared. The horses pranced inside the fairy ring as their riders sang in a language Mary could not understand. If so much didn’t depend on her, if there were nothing to lose, the scene before her would have been enchanting. Instead, the lovely melody, the gorgeous people on their decorated horses, all made the situation seem more deadly. Like roses with thorns, Mary observed. Such beauty comes with a price.

  She spotted Tamlin on his milk-white mount—just as he had told her he would be. She knew she had to wait until the correct moment. Everything had to be done according to plan. Tamlin had been quite clear about that. Magic followed rules. If she deviated from the rules, all would be lost. But if she followed them to the letter, Queen Titania would have no choice but to release Tamlin.

  She checked her watch. The hands were approaching midnight. She made certain she was in position to reach Tamlin quickly. The Queen’s horse was at the other side of the circle, facing away from Tamlin. Thank goodness for that at least, Mary thought. That would give her the few seconds she needed to get to Tamlin before the Queen noticed.

  Yes! The first chime of the clock tower sounded and Mary raced out of her hiding place. She gripped the horse’s bridle, then dragged Tamlin down from his horse. He could do nothing to help her; the rules dictated that she was stealing him from the Queen. She released the horse and clutched Tamlin to her tightly.

  “Be brave, my darling,” he whispered in her ear.

  Another chime sounded as Tamlin’s horse shied and broke from the orderly circle. The Faerie courtiers had trouble keeping control as the riderless horse galloped erratically among them. What had been an orderly procession dissolved into chaos.

  “Who has broken the circle!” Titania demanded furiously.

  “Tamlin is off his horse, Queen,” a tiny, fluttering creature cried above the noise of the whinnying horses and shouting riders.

  The bells chimed a third time.

  The Queen rode her horse into the center of the circle. She pulled it to a stop a few feet from Mary and Tamlin.

  “Who interferes with my courtiers? Who dares to defy me?”

  “Don’t answer,” Tamlin instructed Mary. “Stay focused on me. On our love. On our future.”

  Mary shut her eyes tight and took comfort in his solid presence. Then that solidity began to change as the bells rang again.

  His arms released her, and she no longer embraced a tall, strong man. A thick, wriggling, cold creature squirmed in her arms. She opened her eyes just as an enormous snake opened its mouth and flicked its tongue at her. She shrieked, and she had to struggle to keep her grip, but she held on.

  It must be twelve feet long, she realized, straining to avoid its deathly grip. Its head bobbed around, as if it were looking for a place to strike. It’s so heavy, and slippery! Mary’s arms burned from the effort of hanging on to the flailing creature. Every time she thought she had it in a secure hold, a portion of its long body slid out of her arms. It hissed and writhed and tried to wrap itself around her. And still she clung to it, wondering if she’d lost count of the bells. Was that three? Or was it four?

  The snake reared its rubbery, boneless body away from her, preparing to strike. As it moved its head toward her, it transformed.

  Into a lion!

  Mary stared into the enormous gaping mouth filled with sharp teeth as the lion let out a roar and the bells chimed once more. She was too terrified to scream. Keeping her arms around its neck, she ducked down and around. She now gripped the lion’s mane from behind, and no longer had to see that terrifying face. The lion began to buck, trying to shake her off. She knit her fingers more deeply into the golden fur. My fingers are too weak, she thought, beginning to panic. I won’t be able to grip much longer. With a burst of energy, she scrambled up onto the lion’s back, so that she could cling to him with her whole body. Another bell chimed and Mary felt panic rising. She’d lost count. Could it only be chime number six? Was she only halfway there? Time itself seemed to have slowed down.

  The lion roared again and twisted around trying to see her, to bite her, to shake her off. And still Mary held on.

  “You’re winning,” a small voice said in her ear.

  Startled, Mary nearly lost her grip. A tiny creature with sharp pointy features and rapidly fluttering wings flew at her shoulder.

  “You’re doing well, human,” the creature said. “Keep at it!”

  Mary shut her eyes, forcing herself to concentrate on not letting go. But she appreciated this tiny cheering section. Perhaps this little fairy was also a prisoner of the Queen’s. Maybe she could save him, too. But for now, she had to focus on the chimes and Tamlin. That was eight, she thought. And again: nine.

  The lion let out another bellowing roar, then transformed once again—into fire!

  “Aghh!” Mary shrieked. The flames licked at her, singeing her flesh. The heat seared her eyes, but she could see that what she held wasn’t just fire but Tamlin himself in flames. He was burning up!

  “Water!” the little voice beside her urged. “Douse the flames and you’ll save him.”

  The clock tower rang again. Surely the ordeal was almost over.

  Mary looked at Tamlin’s features, contorted with pain inside the column of fire. The river! She had to save him. She dragged the burning Tamlin toward the river as the chimes sounded once more, feeling blisters forming on her hands, her arms. She crossed out of the fairy ring and jumped into the rushing water just as the bells chimed again. Twelve, she thought with relief.

  The moment they hit the water, the current pulled them apart. The cool water soothed Mary’s burns, and she knew it must be doing the same for Tamlin. She burst up through the surface and gulped in air. “Tamlin!” she called. Where was he? She whipped her head back and forth, peering into the dark night, trying to find his beautiful face above the water.

  “Tamlin,” she cried, fear chilling her more than the water. “T
amlin!” Could he still be underwater?

  With a sound that sent horror plunging through her heart, the clock tower chimed one last time. That’s when Mary realized she would not find Tamlin in the water with her. She had not held on to him through the last chime of midnight. She had failed.

  “And you were so close,” the little fairy creature taunted from a nearby tree branch. “You really should be careful whose advice you take, human.”

  Mary swam to where she could stand and stared at the creature. “You tricked me.”

  “You were willing to be tricked,” the fairy retorted. “As I said, you should check your sources. I am Amadan, the Queen’s jester. Why would I do anything to help you do her harm?”

  Mary gazed back up to the fairy ring. Tamlin was slouched on his white horse, glowing ropes wrapped around him, a gag in his mouth. Mary noted that even his eyes were covered, so that they could have no contact at all.

  Titania glared at Mary. “You should take care, mortal. I am not one to cross.”

  She gave an order, and the invisible doorway between the worlds opened once again.

  Mary scrambled out of the water and up the bank to the meadow. “Tamlin, I’m sorry! I love you, Tamlin!” Mary cried.

  She could not tell if he heard her or not; he simply disappeared through the door with the other riders. The Queen placed her horse directly in front of Mary. She peered down imperiously.

  “This is over,” the Queen declared. “You will never see him again. I will create bindings that will prevent any further contact between our realms. Forget him.” The Queen galloped her horse around the fairy ring three times, then it leaped into the air. At the height of its jump, the horse and rider disappeared.

  Mary sank to the ground and sobbed.

  The image faded.

  Tim found himself on the ground, shaken from Mary’s ordeal and engulfed in the pain of her separation from Tamlin. It took him a few minutes before he could stop himself from sobbing Mary’s heartbroken sobs. Finally, he sat up and leaned against her headstone.

  “How horrible,” he murmured. How sad for them both. No wonder Tamlin seemed so angry and sad inside. While Mary was ashamed that she had failed and devastated that Tamlin was gone forever.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Tim told the headstone. “Titania cheated. She used Amadan to trick you.”

  He didn’t want to leave this experience yet. He needed to reassure himself that Mary had found a way to be happy. Though it was hard for him to imagine she’d found that happiness with William Hunter. And he wanted to know—how had he come into the picture?

  He ate another berry. And found himself as Mary, talking to a much younger version of a man Tim knew well: William Hunter. A Mr. Hunter who still had both his arms.

  “It will be all right,” Mr. Hunter said to Mary. Tim could feel tears trickling from Mary’s eyes.

  She wiped them away quickly. “I just feel so stupid. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t bother you with my problems. But you’ve always been such a good friend to me. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  “I’m glad you did. Having a baby isn’t so hard. Lots of people do it.” He gave her a little smile. “Even hopeless cases like you who’ve never learned to cook or clean or anything useful.”

  Mary laughed. “You’re such a jerk,” she teased.

  “That’s why you like me.”

  Mary dabbed her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m just so afraid. I knew my parents would be disappointed, angry even. But I never thought they’d throw me out.”

  “They’ll come around,” William Hunter offered.

  “No, Bill,” Mary replied. “They won’t. Besides, I’m an adult. Twenty-five years old. This is my responsibility.” Her voice began to tremble again. “How am I going to manage on my own?”

  She started to really cry, and Bill put his arms around her. Mary burrowed into him, seeking comfort, and Tim felt her relaxing in the safety of Bill’s company.

  “You don’t have to be alone,” Bill said softly. He cleared his throat. “Mary, you know I’ve always loved you.”

  “I love you, too.” She rested her head against his shoulder. It felt cozy and safe.

  “I know you care for me as a friend,” Bill corrected. “But I love you with all my heart. And I want you to be my wife.”

  Tim could feel that Mary had strong feelings for this man. They were completely different from what she had felt for Tamlin. Those emotions were fiery and filled with passion. What Mary felt for Bill was softer, gentler, and much calmer. Tim could sense her fear melting as she considered his marriage proposal.

  Then a cold shiver went through her.

  “It wouldn’t be fair.” She shook her head. “I can’t. You deserve someone who will love you with all her heart and soul. I do love you—but not that way, you’re right.”

  William took her hands in his. “I know you still have feelings for the mysterious father of your baby. But you’ve made it very clear that he is never coming back. Isn’t that right?”

  Mary’s eyes lowered and she nodded.

  “Then why not make a go of it with me?”

  Mary bit her lip. She did adore Bill—he was her best friend. They had fun together and they could talk about everything. Well, everything but Tamlin. Maybe her fond affection would grow into something deeper, with time. “If you’re sure…” she said, still uncertain if she was doing the right thing.

  Bill smiled. “I think we will be great together. You even laugh at my jokes!”

  Now Mary smiled back. “You’re right. You’d better marry me while I still think you’re funny.” Her face grew serious again. “Bill, let’s move. Let’s go to London, where no one will know this child isn’t yours.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  The image faded.

  Tim couldn’t stop now. He had to see all the memories that the bush was offering. He found a cluster of berries and popped them all into his mouth.

  This time it was like watching a montage; it must have been because he’d eaten so many at once. Mr. Hunter—Bill—helped Mary get up from the couch, while she was very pregnant. Mary gazing wistfully at a full moon, touching her swollen belly. “Tamlin,” she whispered. “I will take good care of our child.” Exhaustion and great joy while holding her newborn in a hospital bed; Bill beaming and crying, overwhelmed by emotion. “Let’s name him Timothy,” Bill suggested.

  The images faded. Tim felt completely drained. He had experienced so much in such a compressed time. It was like watching one of those sports roundup programs on telly: Tim got the highlights only, all of the most intense bits.

  “That baby was me,” he realized slowly. Tamlin and Mary Hunter had had a baby together. And that baby was me. Titania isn’t my mother after all!

  This must have been what Auberon was trying to tell me, Tim thought. This is why he returned me to this spot. So that I would learn the truth. How did he know? Tim shrugged. Must be one of those magic things. Maybe he could tell that I was all human, while Titania was so blinded by what she thought she knew that she didn’t notice.

  Everything had happened the way Mr. Hunter had told Tim. He had married Mary when she was already pregnant by another man. Whatever child Titania had with Tamlin, it wasn’t Tim. The child the Queen of Faerie had gotten rid of must have met its own fate.

  “Wow,” he murmured. “I may have a half brother out there somewhere. The child Titania thought I was—her son and Tamlin’s.” He wondered briefly why Titania had been so convinced she was his mother, but he pushed aside those thoughts as bigger, more important realizations entered.

  No one tried to give me away. In fact, Tim thought, a lump forming in his throat, my mom and dad—Mr. William Hunter and the former Mary Cavanaugh—really loved me. A whole lot. Even Tamlin, I suppose, loved me in his own rough way. Why else would he have sacrificed himself for me?

  And, of course, Molly. Molly who risked so much to help him. Even Auberon helped me find the answers I needed and
found a way for me to see Molly.

  Magic can help after all. Go figure.

  Tim stood and gazed for a long time at his mother’s grave. Funny how spending time as someone else—first the cat, then his mother—had helped him learn so much about himself.

  He felt sad all over again, missing his mother and also mourning for what she’d gone through, but for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel so lonely.

  Staring at the grave, an idea came to him.

  “There’s something I need to do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  TIM MADE HIS WAY to the car a few blocks from his flat. He stood and stared at the wrecked car, finally understanding its allure for his dad. It was the last place they’d been together, Bill and Mary. And it was the source of all his dad’s pain. His loss. His failure. Everyone said the accident had not been his fault, and yet Mr. Hunter had never forgiven himself. The car was the reminder of all that. As long as he continued to come here and sit in it, he would be trapped in that pain and guilt forever. It hurt too much for him to move forward without Mary.

  It sickened Tim to see the vehicle. It always reminded him that people you counted on could disappear for no good reason. But today had made him realize that help could come from unexpected places, and new people appeared as the need arose.

  He hated the car; hated how it caged his dad in pain. Like the tattoos, Tim realized. Freedom took many forms, Tim had learned, and required several steps. Tim had taken many of those steps since discovering he was magic. He felt he could help his dad take one now.

  “Wobbly!” Tim called. He shut his eyes and focused on the scavenger, willing it to appear. “Wobbly, the Opener is summoning you.” There was a pause, then the beating of wings and a rush of air over his head.

  “Krawwwwww,” the Wobbly cawed. “Opener, you have need of me? Has been long time since you called.”

  Tim noticed the Wobbly had grown into a sprawling cloud of garbage. “There is something here for you,” Tim told it.