“That’s because you won’t. The Fae have been absent from our history for many years.”
“Why?” Sarah wanted to know. “I never knew Lentari had any faeries.”
“Please tell us why you’re asking about the Fae,” Ny’Callé prompted. “You’ve never brought them up before. Why now?”
“Did the Fae have many cities?” Sarah pressed, hoping the Kri’yans wouldn’t notice that she had yet to answer their questions about why she wanted to know.
“The Fae only had one city,” Kri’Entu slowly answered. He rose from his seat and returned to the map. He touched a spot in the northwestern section of the Bohanis. He kept his finger in contact with the map and turned expectantly to Sarah, who hurried over to the map to see for herself what he was pointing at.
Sarah’s eyes narrowed. The king was pointing at a very specific location, only it wasn’t anywhere near Capily. Perhaps this was where the former city was? Or had been. Whatever. Kri’Entu’s finger was resting on a skillfully drawn illustration of a noble fir. A quick check of the surrounding map revealed there were no other intricately detailed illustrations of trees anywhere in the area. Sarah’s pulse quickened. That tree had to mean something!
“This was where Vineelm used to be,” the king softly told her. “I’m told it was an elegant city. Elegant and sophisticated. Very secluded. The Fae lived their lives in peace, not bothering anyone nor asking for anything in return.”
“They left you alone so you left them alone,” Steve guessed.
The king nodded. “That’s right.”
“The tree is wrong,” Sarah said, as soon as she stepped up to the map to look at the illustration of the tree. “The top wasn’t pointed, like a fir. It was more rounded, like an ash tree.”
“It was a different city,” Steve whispered to her. “Different city, different tree.”
King and queen stared at each other for a few moments before the king held out an arm and invited Sarah to sit down. Once they were seated the two monarchs joined them. The king resumed removing pieces of leather armor from his body. The queen elected to leave hers in place.
“What do you know about the Fae, Lady Sarah?” the king inquired as he wrestled with a stubborn buckle on one of his greaves. “You say the tree is wrong? How would you know? The Fae faded into obscurity hundreds of years ago.”
“I, er,” Sarah cleared her throat and started again. “I may have been approached by the Fae king and queen.”
Surprised, both Kri’Entu and Ny’Callé’s eyebrows shot straight up. The king dropped the piece of armor he had been holding and sat back in his chair.
“Please, continue.”
“Either they asked me for help or else I have a very vivid imagination,” Sarah decided. “Until I see evidence which proves otherwise, I’ll assume it wasn’t my imagination. The dream was too real. I still remember it like I was just there five minutes ago.”
Kri’Entu cocked his head, “Just there? Where? The Fae city?”
Sarah shook her head, “Not Vineelm. That’s not what they called it.”
The queen sat forward in her chair.
“What were their names, Lady Sarah? Did they say?”
“The queen’s name was Ria and the king’s was Tivan.”
“And they were the Fae?” Callé asked. “You’re sure?”
“I saw their wings with my own two eyes,” Sarah confirmed. “The problem is, I always thought the Fae were tiny humans with wings.”
The king gave her a quizzical look.
“They are, Lady Sarah. Were they not so when you saw them?”
“They were the same size as me, your majesty.”
“They were the same size as you, or were you the same size as they were?” Callé curiously asked.
Sarah’s eyes opened wide. Had she been their size? Could she have been shrunk?
“It certainly didn’t feel like I was shrunk,” Sarah began, “but I wouldn’t put it past them. I guess it’s possible I was their size.”
“Did they say what they wanted?” the king asked.
“Only that they were dying and they wanted our help. Mine and my husband’s. Those were their words.”
The king glanced briefly at Steve before looking back at her. Kri’Entu waited patiently, as though he was expecting her to elaborate why the Fae decided to ask them, and not the Kri’yans, for help. Steve cleared his throat, causing both the king and queen to look at him.
“Can I ask you why the Fae aren’t in any of your history books? Was there some type of disagreement between the two of you?”
Kri’Entu shrugged. “I wish I knew. All that is known about the Fae is that there was some type of falling out between our two species. The Fae parted ways amicably and respectfully went their separate ways. I had always assumed the Fae were still out there but if I were to be asked, I couldn’t begin to say where they were now.”
“You’ve never looked?” Steve asked.
Kri’Entu shook his head, “Not once. I’ve always felt that I should honor their decision to go their separate ways and have not once broken it.”
“Have any of your predecessors?” Sarah wanted to know. “Are you aware of any attempts to reestablish contact with the Fae?”
“Not that I’m aware of, Lady Sarah,” the king answered. “I always figured if they needed any help then all they had to do was ask. Now I learn that they apparently need the help but chose to ask someone else. This concerns me.”
“Don’t read too much into this,” Steve cautioned. “Maybe this is something that only we can do. You are the king. I don’t think you’re allowed to get involved, even if you wanted to.”
“But I do want to,” the king muttered. The queen took his hand in hers and squeezed it reassuringly. “How can I help?”
“By not helping,” Sarah advised. “I think you’re right. You should honor their request. If we determine that you’re allowed to help then rest assured, we’ll let you know.”
Kri’Entu nodded, “If permission is given then I expect to be notified at once.”
Chapter 2 – Validated Vision
“So where do we start?” Steve asked as he eyed the waterfront. Visible in the distance were at least a dozen different islands, each looking just as identical as the next. The last time he had seen that many islands, in such close proximity, was when he and Sarah had visited Puget Sound in Washington State. The Evergreen State had a popular ferry system that was frequently used by the locals whenever they wanted to go island hopping. Too bad a system like that didn’t exist here. “We need a plan.”
“Well, ordinarily I’d say we should see if we can find a map somewhere and go from there.”
“We just came from R’Tal,” her husband pointed out. “They had one mother of a map. Why do you need another one?”
Sarah turned on her heel and headed towards the busy coastal village.
“You saw what I did. There are a ton of islands out there. I’m willing to wager there’s more out there than what the cartographer has selected to be on the map. I counted twenty-five. We’re going to need some way to find out which ones we’ve searched.”
Steve groaned, “Do you plan on searching them all?”
“If we have to, yes. Dynwe is on one of those islands. We have to find it. We need to see if we can help the Fae.”
“So you’re thinking there might be a local map that shows more islands than the king’s map?”
Sarah nodded, “I hope so, otherwise we are going to have to sketch each island as we go so we know we don’t end up searching the same island twice.”
“Too bad they don’t have a tourist center,” Steve mused. He glanced around the busy street and watched as several fishermen unloaded their hauls. A number of birds were circling about overhead, which instantly caused Steve to seek shelter. He and his feathered adversaries had a long-standing arrangement: they wouldn’t poop on him and he wouldn’t use them as targets for practicing his aim with his fire thrower jhorun. Not that h
e ever would use a live animal as a target, but if the right circumstances presented themselves, namely a certain substance appearing on his head or his clothes, then he might be tempted.
Sarah took his arm and pulled him down the street toward a large building. Villagers could be seen ducking in and out of the structure, some clutching items tightly to their chest, and others escorting sullen children away from the building. Steve looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. He hooked a thumb in the house’s direction.
“Are you heading towards that? Are they giving away maps?”
“That’s the constable’s office,” Sarah told him. “If anyone would know about the islands around here it would be the constable. Besides, we know him.”
“We do? How?”
“That is Constable Fensham’s office. He’s Lissa’s father, remember?”
Steve snapped his fingers, “That’s right. I had forgotten. Well, let’s see if he’s in there.”
Husband and wife stepped inside the open doors and followed an older man and a younger boy down a hallway on the right. The boy couldn’t have been more than 14 years old, and from the way that the boy hung his head, and the way the older man was glaring at him, they must have been father and son. The boy must have been there to answer for some type of trouble. The hallway abruptly dead-ended into a spacious room occupied by a large desk, walls of bookcases stuffed not with books but with papers, and a long counter which ran the length of the room. The counter was against the far wall and was filled with all manner of things. Dirks, a quiver of arrows, figurines, several sacks of an unknown substance, three helmets, and a stack of books could be seen. A brawny man in his mid-forties, replete with a short, trimmed beard and a thick head of auburn hair, sat behind the desk staring impassively at two older gentlemen who wouldn’t stop glaring at one another. With a sigh, he turned to the man on his left.
“Remus, I’m waiting.”
The man on the right turned to his companion and cackled at him.
“You heard him. He wants to know where it is.”
“Sunk it, I did.”
The first man shook his head and scowled.
“You know you didn’t, Remus. You got just as much at stake in her as I do.”
“You shut your mouth, Boris.”
“Make me, Remus.”
“Enough,” Fensham snapped, silencing them both instantly. “Remus, you need to produce the vessel or else you’ll be spending tonight, and every consecutive night until it’s located, in irons. Is that what you want?”
The old man stubbornly crossed his arms across his chest and scowled. Thankfully he didn’t say anything. Satisfied, as though Remus had just admitted his guilt, Fensham nodded.
“Good. That’s what I thought. I’m glad you came to your senses, Remus. It’s his boat just as much as it is yours. Now, you and your brother divide up your haul, evenly and fairly like you always do, and go about your business.”
The two old men pushed by them, muttering darkly as they passed. Steve suppressed a smile and winked at Sarah, who smiled back at him. She eyed the pair directly in front of them. What problem could they have had? Fensham, who had been scribbling some notes on a piece of parchment, glanced up as the father and son approached and sighed heavily. He tossed his quill onto his desk and deliberately capped his bottle of ink.
“Bertram. Would you care to take a guess as to why you and your son have been summoned to my office again?”
“Whatever you think my son has done,” Bertram hesitantly began, “I can assure you he’s innocent. My son told me he’s innocent and I believe him.”
Fensham pushed back from his desk and studied the father and son pair.
“Is that so? Do you even know what he did? Has he admitted it to you yet?”
“I have no idea what he allegedly did,” Bertram hastily fired back.
“Pratt, you have precisely five seconds to come clean with your father.”
A look of defiance fluttered across the young man’s face.
“I have witnesses, Pratt.”
In less time than it takes to blink an eye the youth’s face transformed from defiance to sheer terror.
“Time’s up.”
“Alright!” the boy shrieked out. Pratt’s face was so red that it was practically glowing. “I did it! I’ll take my punishment. Now can I go?”
Bertram placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and spun him around until he was looking him in the eye.
“You told me you had stopped stealing, boy. I’ll tan your hide if I find out otherwise.”
“I didn’t!” Pratt protested. “I didn’t steal anything!”
“Then what did you do?”
The boy’s face colored. He mumbled something but it was much too soft to overhear. Bertram cuffed his son on the back of his head.
“Try that again, boy, only louder this time.”
“Your son was caught defacing the school,” Fensham announced, keeping his voice neutral.
Bertram started sputtering with rage. “What? You did what, boy? I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful. How did you do it? When? What kind of damage are we talking about?”
“The damage is minimal,” Fensham coolly responded, seeing how the boy had clammed up and was refusing to lift his eyes from the ground. “It’s nothing a bucket of soap and water can’t remedy.”
“What the blazes did you do, boy?” Bertram was so angry that flecks of spittle were flying out of his mouth. “Why would the constable imply something needed to be cleaned? Did you vandalize the school? Since when do you like getting your hands dirty?”
“He didn’t use his hands,” Fensham added. This time the constable’s mouth quivered as he fought to keep a straight face.
“Oh, please don’t,” Pratt pleaded in a soft whisper.
“You didn’t use your hands?” Bertram exclaimed, confused. “Do I want to know what you used?”
The constable cleared his throat.
“I can only hope either he was trying to mark his territory or else had consumed too much water. Class was still in session and the entire younger class was witness to everything. Quinn, the schoolmaster, believes young Mister Pratt has suffered enough but would like him to clean the affected walls.”
“The school will get a new paint job,” Bertram vowed as he glared at his son. “The entire school. Are we clear, son?”
Pratt sullenly nodded.
Fensham took back up his quill and reopened the bottle of ink. He dabbed the point inside a few times before making notes on another piece of parchment. He looked up and nodded at Bertram.
“I will consider the matter closed. Do keep an eye on your son for me. I grow tired of his impertinence.”
“This will be the last time we’re in here, rest assured.” Bertram grabbed his son by the arm and forcibly pulled him out of the room.
Sarah’s eyes were watering so much from trying to hold back her laughter that she was unable to answer when Fensham asked a couple of questions. He wanted to know who they were and what the nature of their business was. The constable’s eyes locked onto Steve’s and he slowly stood. He looked back at Sarah and nodded his head.
“I thought I recognized you. You’re the Nohrin. You two are the reason why my little Lissa returned to me. I wasn’t aware you were in our village. What can Capily do for you?”
“We need to check out your islands,” Steve cheerfully explained. “I don’t suppose you have a map which shows them all, do you?”
Fensham stared at the two of them for a few moments before gesturing to a map that had been tacked up on the wall closest to his desk.
“Are you looking for something or someone? Do you require assistance?”
Sarah shook her head, “We would just like to take a look at them. Do you know how many there are? Have they all been properly mapped?”
Fensham sadly shook his head.
“I’ve been petitioning the king for years to have a cartographer properly chart them all. To answer your que
stion, no; there isn’t a map that shows them all because they number too many. Last year a fisherman strove to be the first to visit them all. He claimed he visited over fifty different islands.”
“Fifty?” Steve exclaimed, dismayed. “I had no idea there were so many.”
Fensham grunted once and turned to the map on the wall. He started tapping islands.
“There are over a dozen islands large enough that it would take the better part of three days to explore each one. You can see them here. Then there’s close to a dozen islands that are less than half that, and of course there are islands even smaller than that. What really constitutes an island worthy of being plotted? A piece of dirt or rock sticking up out of the water? If that were the case then I couldn’t even begin to guess how many actual islands are out there.
Steve shared a look with her. “This is going to take a lot longer than either of us originally thought.”
“What choice do we have?” Sarah asked helplessly.
“So you are looking for something?” Fensham interjected, nodding. “I suspected as much. Perhaps if you tell me what it is then I might be able to help you.”
Steve laid a friendly hand on the constable’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, pal. We have to keep this quiet.”
Fensham shrugged, returned to his desk, and pulled the map depicting Capily and a few of its islands from the wall. He folded the map and reverently held it out to Steve.
“Take this. May it be of use to you.”
Steve took the map and immediately handed it to Sarah, who pocketed it and smiled at the constable.
“Thank you. We’ll return it as soon as we can.”
“Take your time. There is no rush. I haven’t looked at that map in months.”
An hour later, after purchasing some supplies from the all-to-eager vendors, husband and wife approached one of the many piers along the shore and stopped. They consulted the map and saw that the closest plotted island was somewhat southwest of their present location, but a quick glance out at the open water confirmed what they already suspected. In reality there were more islands than what was on the map. In fact, there was a small island about half a mile away. It was heavily treed and gave every indication there wasn’t one bit of open land anywhere. Both of them stared silently at the island for a few minutes, each thinking different thoughts.
Close Encounters of the Magical Kind Page 3
