The procession was nothing more than a stately walk through the forest to show off their faerie splendor. Despite the absurd vanity, Anna could hardly take her eyes from it. All of them together, dressed in gossamer gowns and fine tunics, were breathtaking. Tamlane most of all. Her heart ached at the sight of him. But soon, she could be in that procession, vain and purposeless as the rest of them. And in half a year she could be tithed to Hell.
Her plan was not much of a plan, considering she had no idea where in the forest she was, but this was her best and, likely, only chance. Tamlane glanced at her occasionally, making sure she was appreciating his majesty, but soon he became caught up in the pageantry, trusting that the feast had tied her to him. The spectators ran alongside and Anna was left alone. Tearing her eyes from Tamlane, she eased back into the trees.
Anna hadn’t explored the whole of the woods near her home, but she knew the general dimensions of it. This oldest section couldn’t be very large. The light in the thick trees was too diffuse to know one direction from another, but all she needed to do was run in a straight line. And avoid the phooka, who would be waiting for her across the grassy meadow.
She ran.
Twice, anguish at leaving Tamlane nearly made her turn back, but memories of Sam pushed her on. The further she got from Tamlane, the more the tangle in her mind unbound, and her fear became terror. Terror of the things living in this forest, terror of becoming trapped forever with them, terror that the phooka or Tamlane were chasing her.
She stumbled often but managed not to fall. Her breath came in burning gasps. Branches tore at her face and clothes, like hands reaching to capture her.
“Annabelle!” Tamlane’s voice. The authority in it nearly made her stop. Nearly.
She pushed on through the trees, frantic, but he was faster. Within moments he was behind her.
Anna saw the most wonderful thing she had ever seen in her life—sunlight through the branches ahead. Desperate now to save herself at any cost, she plunged the last few feet.
A tree root caught her foot and sent her sprawling, inches from safety. She crawled for the light but Tamlane grabbed her ankle, pulling her back. The touch of his hand was warm and strong. She turned and looked at him. Why had she run from him? Had she been mad? But he wasn’t looking at her; he was staring at the ground in front of her. She looked where he did.
The grape lodged in her bra had jarred loose with her fall. It went spinning and bouncing over the border, into the brown dirt of the oak and birch woods. The sunlight revealed it for the small, brown acorn it truly was. They both froze, watching the acorn gently roll to a stop.
“What have you done?” he said in a whisper. “What have you done?”
The pain in his voice devastated her. His blue eyes were hard. She had hurt him somehow.
“I’m sorry.” She got to her knees and reached for his legs. “I’m so sorry I ran,” she said. She grabbed at the silk of his pants, but he stepped back.
“I would have made you my queen,” he said, looking down at her.
A wind started deep within the old forest. The branches above her head shifted and swayed with it. Anna heard strange, muffled sounds under the deep voice of the wind. Tamlane flashed a look of hatred at her. Then he turned and ran.
“No,” Anna cried, getting to her feet. She tried to follow him, but the wind pushed her back so hard she nearly fell. The trees above her were creaking, branches whipping to and fro in the increasing gale. She had to get out of here; she would die if these huge limbs came down on her. She had been trying to escape this forest anyway, she suddenly remembered as Tamlane disappeared from sight.
The wind buffeted her, pushing her the last few inches to the border of the two woods, as if even the forest didn’t want her anymore. The muffled sounds beneath the wind grew in intensity and volume to a gurgling, moaning clamor. They resolved slowly into terrible, voices; sounds of howling, crying, fear. Sounds of agony. Anna cried out herself when she heard Tamlane’s voice among them.
What the phooka had said came back to her. It would take so little to undo us—a leaf, a twig.
An acorn.
She understood finally what he had been trying to say; the world of fairy and the mortal world were separate things. And she had brought them together.
Strange shadows swirled before her eyes amidst the sound of the great wind building stronger still, drowning out the voices. A wind strong enough to bend those huge treetops and break the large branches. A wind strong enough to blow the forest clean. Phooka, the banshee, the pixies that had spied on her making love to the Faerie King. They were terrifying and dangerous and wondrous. And now they were no more.
She wept for the terrible loss the world had just suffered at her hand. Magic had been real, and she had eradicated what little remained. Anna fell to her knees and doubled over with great, wracking sobs. She crawled the last few inches from the old forest into the ordinary, human one.
~*~
Anna woke to bright sunlight. She looked at the clock over the couch and saw she had slept in until noon. Good thing it was Saturday.
She was bone-weary and strangely melancholy, and yet she had a longing to walk to the forest. A funny, urgent sensation, like she needed to check on it, too make sure it was still there for her. Not stopping for breakfast or even coffee, she headed out.
The day was sunny and warm. Even in the forest, the air seemed bright and cheery. When she left the main trail and took the next three forks, she looked around amazed. Funny, she thought she remembered the trees being much larger here, older.
The path was littered with leaves. Branches were hanging broken or lying on the ground as far as she could see. She had a vague memory of a strong wind. The woods felt new somehow, like the wind had cleansed it, like spring had renewed it.
Looking around, though, she had the peculiar feeling that the change brought more loss than gain. She was surprised when a tear spilled over her eyelid and ran down her cheek as she turned to head home.
~*~
Liz Colter lives in a rural area of the Rocky Mountains and spends her free time with her husband, dogs, horses and writing. Over the years she has followed her heart through a variety of careers, including working as a paramedic, an Outward Bound instructor, an athletic trainer, a draft-horse farmer and a dispatcher for concrete trucks. Her true passion, though, is her writing. She has been reading speculative fiction for a lifetime and creating her own speculative worlds for more than a decade. Her short stories have appeared Emerald Sky, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, and Enchanted Conversation, among others, and she is a winner of this year’s Writers of the Future competition. In longer works, she has two completed fantasy novels and is working on a third. Her website can be found at http://lizcolter.weebly.com.
~*~
Faerie Knight
Sidney Blaylock, Jr.
1. The Knight of the Fae
Mr. Theron heard the subtle sound of a cell phone’s keyboard clicking away in Brad’s corner of the room. He shook his head—when would they ever learn? Just because he was blind didn’t mean he was helpless.
He straightened his dark glasses and moved to Brad’s corner, deftly avoiding the media stand and projector in the center of the classroom. The entire class grew silent and Mr. Theron smiled.
“Bradley, you wouldn’t be texting in class again, would you?”
He heard the sound of a quick beep—the sound a screen being cleared, but not of a phone being turned off. “No, Mr. Theron.”
There was a shuffling of feet in a desk further back in the same row. Lydia. She was one of the good students. Her restlessness told him that she knew a confrontation was coming and that she didn’t want to be a part of it.
“Do you really want to be without your phone over the weekend? Think of all the Halloween parties that you’ll miss.”
Silence. Then a long beep—the sound of the phone going off.
“I appreciate it, Bradley.” He pitched his voice loude
r. “In fact, I appreciate it so much that the homework that I was going to assign just got put off until Monday. Enjoy your weekend and have a safe Halloween.”
Right on cue with the silent timekeeper in his head, the bell rang. Desks creaked, books were scooped up, and sneakers scuffed against the floor. When the classroom emptied, he smiled. Once again, experience triumphed in diffusing a tense situation.
He took a deep breath. Experience. He would need all of it in a few hours especially with All Hallow’s Eve and a Hunter’s Moon falling on the same night. For this one weekend out of the year, he would not be a teacher, but a knight in the service of the Queen of the Fae.
2. The Queen
“My knight, step forth.”
“Yes, my Queen.” Thomas Theron stepped forward and kneeled before the queen of the Fae.
“The Hunter’s Moon rises. Are you ready to receive my boon?”
Always before Thomas had responded with an affirmative. Today, however, he felt compelled to speak.
“My queen,” he said, then faltered as his voice stuck in his throat. He recovered. “My queen, I am still your knight, but I am not of the Fae. You took me in centuries ago after my parents abandoned me because of my blindness. You gave me a home among the Fae and for that I will be forever grateful. But, my queen, I’m mortal and I’m old. My bones ache and my speed isn’t what it used to be. Please, my queen, do not think me churlish, but I feel that I must tell you that your knight is not the man he once was.”
Thomas’ insides felt horribly twisted. His heart pounded. Never before had he ever said such words to his queen. How would she take it? He meant it truthfully, but the Fae were fickle. She was benevolent, but she was still a queen and used to being obeyed.
His queen was silent.
The Seelie Court was silent.
That could not be good.
He heard the sound of cloth shifting and felt a light hand touch his shoulder.
His heart pounded.
“My knight, do you trust me?” Her voice was clear and her tone was firm.
“With all my heart.”
“Then receive my boon again.”
“I receive your boon, my queen,” he said using the formula he had been taught so long ago, “I live to serve and I serve to live.”
The formula was ancient. Her boon kept the years at bay. Had he not accepted it, he would have begun to age again, like any other mortal. There was another gift that her boon bestowed, however, and it was that one which he looked forward to the most.
She removed his glasses, touched his eyes and suddenly light flared through them. Slowly, sight came with it. Sight that would last until end of the full Hunter’s Moon tonight. One day a year, he could see. And once a year, he received the gift of life.
Yet, he had seen so much evil, had fought against so much evil, that he wondered if his preternatural lifespan was a blessing, or a curse. His right knee ached and his hands had begun to curl under the debilitating effects of arthritis. Some mornings he felt as if it was all he could do to get out of bed, let alone prepare his lesson plans and gather his school supplies.
However, all his pains seemed to melt away when he looked upon his queen.
A simple circlet encircled her brow and it shone like starlight, and a long gossamer gown reached down to the edge of the dais. Her features were fox-sharp, but not severe. Her eyes were both greenish-blue, like the ocean. They seemed to shine bluish when she was serene, but flashed green when she was angry. Her ears were elongated and ended in points. Silvery-white hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall shining in the moonlight.
“My brave and true knight, the world needs you. I need you. The Unseelie Court holds more sway in today’s world than mine, but I refuse to abdicate my authority there. They are stealing children and turning them away from the light. I need all my knights to fight against the enveloping darkness. All of them.”
She lifted him to his feet with a gentle touch and returned his sunglasses to him. “Fight for me, once more, my knight. The world needs you.”
Thomas’ knee throbbed and the aspirin was beginning to wear off. Soon his hands would begin to hurt as well. How could he serve his queen, if simply kneeling caused him so much pain?
He simply bowed. “Yes, my queen.”
3. The Wild Hunt
The Hunter’s Moon raged and Thomas felt the thrill of the wild hunt flow through him. The moonlight tingled on his skin like a heat rash and he could feel the power of the Fae as it eddied and pooled around his body. He held out his hand and ethereal tendrils began to coalesce around his palm. Slowly, a shape emerged. It was neither sword nor staff, but an amalgamation of the two. A long flowing blade, reminiscent of a katana merged into a glowing, leather-bound hilt that in turn flowed into another blade that was the diametric opposite.
Silverthorne.
A Vorpal Blade, mind-forged from the magic of the Fae. The top blade shone brilliantly with white-hot moonlight, while the bottom blade was ebon dark. He grasped the hilt, the only truly solid part of the weapon and spun it several times. The blades wailed their distinctive snicker-snack cry.
On any other day, he would not have dared draw Silverthorne in public, but this being Halloween, Thomas felt confident that the blade would simply seem like part of his costume. He was dressed in a flowing black coat that reached down to his ankles and wore a dark tri-cornered hat which gave him a decidedly seedy look. The long black cloth mask that covered his nose and mouth completed the costume and made him look thoroughly disreputable and menacing, as was his intent—his costume was that of a highwayman.
He stalked two trolls as they swaggered through the streets of suburbia. They had thick grayish skin and large unblinking eyes, like sharks. Their faces were thick and stone-like. They were not mortals in costumes, but fae, members of the Unseelie Court. Kids in costumes and their adult supervisors passed the trolls completely unaware.
Thomas followed the pair. He knew that his disguise and the fact it was Halloween would keep them from noticing him. He did have to be careful, however, as his fairy sight touched off a sense of unease in Fae. The last thing he wanted to do was spook these two. Thomas needed their leader.
“Hey, man, that’s a nice sword! Where’d you buy it?”
Thomas turned. A tall Chewbacca, escorting Princess Leia, pointed to Silverthorne.
He saluted Chewie with Silverthorne. “I made it myself. It’s one-of-a-kind.”
Chewbacca nodded. “I’ve got to get me one of those.”
Thomas turned back to the two trolls, but though his attention had only been diverted for a moment, they were nowhere in sight. He scanned the street, but he saw no Fae, only trick-or-treaters.
His heart sped. Too old and too slow, he berated himself. Lives depended on him and he just lost the trolls. They were his only lead to the fae that would probably try to abduct a child tonight and replace it with a changeling. He could not let that happen.
He forced himself into his classroom persona. Breathe and think, breathe and think. Prioritize. Now that he had lost the two trolls, his next goal must be to find their trail.
He took a deep breath and peered at the spot where the two trolls had been. He hated using this boon from his queen because even though it was immensely powerful and useful, it was like a submarine using active sonar, any fae in the area could now sense him, but he could see the trail of the two fae cutting through a yard and over into the next street. His heart hammered when he worked out where their trails would ultimately lead.
The school. His school.
4. The Vorpal Blade
Thomas crashed through the undergrowth on the traffic island. A long, snaking drive led to the school. The road was bounded by subdivisions on every side. The road, however, had been landscaped to provide a peaceful buffer between the school and the surrounding houses. Hedges, trees, mulch, and pine-needles supplemented the greenery of the traffic island. He heard rustling in the trees, but paid it no mind. A breeze was ni
ce, but he needed to concentrate.
He heard a more substantial rustle above him and frowned. There was no way the trolls could have hidden in the trees, they were too bulky.
Suddenly the creatures burst from the underbrush. Thomas had been right… but he’d also been wrong. The trolls had hidden themselves using a glamour, like a chameleon changing colors to match its environment.
Idiot, Thomas raged at himself. The moment I get the queen’s boon of sight, I ignore my other senses.
“I told you I felt something,” one of the trolls said. “Looks like a knight.” Knee-ct was the way the word tumbled from the troll’s misshapen mouth.
The other troll grunted, flexing his huge arms and cracking his knuckles. “A dead knight,” he said.
His partner grinned and twisted his neck until it cracked, limbering up like a heavy-weight boxer before a title fight.
Thomas brought Silverthorne into a ready position. His heart pounded, but he did not feel fear—just anger at himself. If he’d listened to his senses, this fight could have been avoided. The queen’s boon of sight was joyous, but he would repay her poorly if he got himself killed because of it.
The first troll rushed him.
Thomas slipped to the side and whipped out the silvery white blade of Silverthorne at the troll as he rushed past. Snicker, whispered the blade. The troll skidded to a stop and felt his chest where Silverthorne had touched him—there was no injury.
He looked at Thomas and sneered. “This is going to be my easiest kill yet.”
He lunged at Thomas who stood his ground and slashed the dark blade of Silverthorne at the troll’s chest. Snackt! A deep wound opened and the troll screamed. The troll’s unnaturally large hand went to its chest and blackish green ichor flowed through its fingers.
Thomas did not smile, but his lip curled. “You know,” he quipped, “I was just thinking the same thing.”
He had a problem now, though. Both trolls had realized he wasn’t going to be easy to kill, so they circled him, like two sharks around a bleeding seal.
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