“But as far as I can tell,” Daniel argued, “that sort of thing is happening all the time-at least, it is where I come from. And hearing here about the death of the true king and the exiling of the elves who followed him, as well as Agrid Fiall taking advantage of you and everyone else like he does-it seems to me like the universe needs a little helping hand to correct things. And if I can, then why shouldn’t I? Is it the ‘ideal state’ that good people suffer?”
Daniel felt his blood warm and skin tingle. Things were falling into place now; it was getting clearer. “I was brought to this point by the universe-by God. This has happened to me before. Here I am, further away from my ‘ideal state’ than I’ve ever been. I’ve been put in an almost impossible situation, once again, and I know that I have the ability to win through and set things right. If there is a universal plan, then there’s no way I’m not a part of it. I’m probably the only one in this world who can fix things and the universe knows it-that’s why it brought me here. First I’ll fix this problem and then I’ll go back and fix my own.”
“Sometimes a correction can swing out of control and cause as many problems as the problem it was meant to fix.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. Seeing as I’m the only one fixing things, I’m the only one who has to worry about that.”
K?yle left at that point, walking out of the tent with a sad face. Pettyl seemed as if she wanted to say more but didn’t. Instead, she asked if Daniel was leaving now and he said he probably would. She gave him some food and he thanked her for everything-for looking after him, helping with his Elfish, feeding him, and more besides. He didn’t want the last thing between them to be an argument. Then he left and said goodbye to K?yle, who was standing at the entrance to the tent. He didn’t say anything at first, he just shook Daniel’s hand. Even after all this time, Daniel still found him hard to read. The collier didn’t seem angry, though. He smiled as he gave Daniel a parting gift-a large, golden leaf.
“This is a leaf,” he explained, “from the oldest tree that I know of in the forest. It has stood in the centre of the forest since before anyone started to count the years. It is very old, and yet every spring it produces new leaves. This is something of this place that you can take with you. It shouldn’t weigh you down much at all, and it will point you in the right direction if ever you return.”
Daniel had thanked him and put the leaf in an old schoolbook that he still carried around in his backpack.
The feast hall was an enormous building with wide, semicircular arches bowing overhead. From the rafters hung more of the brightly coloured banners and pendants with entrancing designs. There were two rows of benches running nearly the full length of the hall, which stopped before a long table that was raised on a platform overlooking the enormous room. This was the high table where the Elf Prince, his consort, and the most important members of his court were to sit. It is where Agrid Fiall would sit.
Daniel surreptitiously made his way to the back of the hall, behind the high table, and pushed past one of the tapestries. There were two large wooden doors that were standing wide open. Directly in front of them was the kitchen tent where cooks and servers were busily preparing the feast. The smell was unlike anything he’d ever smelt before-it was the rich, sweet smell of caramelizing glazes on top of roasting meat, of spiced breads and pastries, of freshly tapped casks of ale and wine, and a dozen more familiar and unfamiliar.
They all mingled into a single overpowering aroma that made Daniel’s mouth water and sent a sharp pain to his stomach, which had only had fruit and nuts for the last, to him, weeks, and now demanded something weightier.
With a regretful swallow, Daniel pressed on. He had to step to one side as a bevy of Elfin servers pushed past him, carrying wide platters of fresh fruit smothered in a dark syrupy sauce. Sighing inwardly Daniel turned to the right and entered a narrow corridor made up of the wooden wall of the feast hall and the canvas tent of the kitchens. This led to the flimsy wooden shack that served as a toilet for the revelers. It was nothing more than two long trough-like pits with a short, narrow, but sturdy bench-like railing before them. At full capacity, it could probably accommodate five on each side-ten altogether.
Daniel walked the length of this building where a disgusting stink that completely eradicated the pleasant odors of just a few moments ago hung like a mist and pushed against the far wall, which as Lokkich had assured him came apart at one end, just enough for him to squeeze through. He did this and found himself between the wooden wall of the latrine and the cloth of the tent around it. It was dark, damp, and smelled completely foul. Crouching, he tried as hard as he could to separate his mind from his circumstances and waited.
It was torture. The longer he stayed, the hotter and stuffier the tiny sliver of space became. He heard the feast start, as if from a great distance. The faint notes of a trumpet announcing the arrival of the prince and other nobles reached him, trickling like birdsong. There was a pause, a cheer, and then music, lovely and haunting, but which came to him in scraps and pieces. His mind tried to fill in images to match what he was hearing, but Daniel knew it was inadequate to whatever spectacles were being performed by the Elfin feasters.
Daniel pulled the gun from the leather pouch and held it before him, checking its mechanism every once in a while. It was at least an hour before anyone came into the privy to relieve themselves. Daniel had arranged himself to lie near a convenient crack, which allowed him to see the whole stretch of the room by moving his head with a very minute motion.
His hands had become sweaty holding the gun, so he placed it before him, constantly rejecting the almost constant impulse to check and reload it. He had no idea how old it was, though it seemed in good shape. Either it would work, or it wouldn’t.
It had grown dark outside and a chill was creeping in. Daniel pulled his cloak even tighter around himself. It was quite dark, and Daniel wasn’t sure if he would recognise Agrid Fiall when he appeared. He didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t at least try to fulfill his mission.
A shadow appeared in the doorway and uttered a disgusted oath. It raised its voice and demanded that a light be brought. A servant appeared with a lit lantern, illuminating the face of the self-important moneylender and treasurer. Daniel felt his pulse quicken as he lifted the gun-was it heavier than it used to be?
It was certainly warmer-and rose silently. He shifted along the wall with stiff and aching limbs so that he was near the crack in the walls that he had entered by. He wrapped the fingers of his left hand around the wooden edge and gently pulled it wider. He stuck his right arm through and brought it up until he had dead aim on his target over a distance of about a meter. Practically point blank.
Daniel waited until Fiall had finished and turned his back, presenting a wider target. Daniel took a deep breath, paused for a heartbeat’s time to make sure of his aim, and squeezed the trigger.
The gun exploded and kicked in his hand. Fiall twitched slightly and stood stunned. Daniel pulled the trigger three more times and the form slumped to the ground. He didn’t know what it took to kill an elf, but he was pretty sure that the steel in the bullets would be toxic, if the wounds didn’t kill him outright.
Daniel drew his sword and stuck it in the fabric of the tent.
He jerked it down to rip a hole from head to knee and started to climb through it.
There was a shout from behind him and he saw another figure in the doorway, slightly hunched over the body of Agrid Fiall. Daniel raised his gun once more, sent the remaining bullets towards the silhouette, and escaped into the night.
5
Freya used the smaller side roads to move her way farther up into North Oxford. It was a winding, snaking path, but one that she thought would be hard to follow. She was banking on the hope that Felix hadn’t been able to get out of the house fast enough to see which direction she’d gone. And so, tired and exhausted, she staggered past houses and parked cars-as well as people who duly ignored her-towards the place
she had last seen Daniel, at St. Michael and All Angels Church. But she couldn’t go there yet.
She limped into Summertown-little more than a busy hotspot of shops and restaurants along Banbury Road and a complex maze of terraced housing. She found herself wearing her jacket when she left Stowe’s apartment, and in her pockets she found her cell phone and small purse that she kept her money and bank cards in-they must have been on her all along. She couldn’t turn on her phone; its battery was probably dead. She thought to go to her apartment, but was afraid that Stowe would find her there-or worse, on the way there. She knew that she should go to the police, but she didn’t know what would become of Daniel then. She had to at least make an attempt to rescue him. Then she would go to the authorities. If it really had been days that she’d been trapped, then there’d be another panic. She may have already made the media again-missing for the second time would certainly have a headline appeal.
Her clothes were dirty and smelly and her hair was an absolute disaster. She hoped that she didn’t look so alarming that she would get thrown out of anyplace. She dug around in her purse for a ten-pound note and held it clearly visible before her as she walked into a small cafe. She put the money on the counter in front of her and ordered a baguette, some fruit, a packet of crisps, a coffee, and a bottle of juice. She took this food to a small table from which she could see the street without being seen.
She devoured her food as calmly and as slowly as possible under the circumstances, and waited. She got up to use the toilet a couple times, cleaning herself up as much as she was able to in the small sink and mirror, always returning to her table and keeping an eye on the street and the sky. She spent enough money to stop the staff from moving her on, gradually nourishing herself. She may not have eaten anything in days. It was vitally important that she didn’t collapse. She needed to keep it together just a little longer.
At six o’clock a cautious waitress came over and told her the cafe was closing. Freya left and wandered the back ways and parking lots of Summertown until the sun was just about to set. Then, with her heart rising in her chest, she went to the church.
She stood outside the lych-gate. This is where Daniel had disappeared-she could still see him taking that first step into oblivion. She stared at the wooden frame and doorway and wondered what she had to do next. She wanted to bring Daniel back, not follow after him-but could she do that? And how?
There was a new feeling growing in her chest. It wasn’t anticipation or nervousness-it was more like a charge that she was getting from the air. Something was happening. There was some sort of a . . . presence was the only way to describe it. Was it danger? She looked up and down the street. She was completely alone.
But, turning back to the lych-gate, she noticed something odd-it was darker inside of it than outside. She tilted her head so that the sky was visible through it and saw that not only was it darker, but whereas her sky was cloudy and overcast, she could see stars through the lych-gate.
“Daniel!” she called into the archway.
There was no answer. The darkness seemed to thicken. She tried again.
“Daniel!”
It now looked like full night through the lych-gate. She could see the churchyard through it, but it was like looking through a veil. She saw a light-at first she thought it was a trick of her eyes, but the flickering glow bobbed and grew in front of her.
“Daniel?”
6
Racing behind Reizger Lokkich, Daniel struggled to keep up just behind the merchant’s swinging lantern. How could such a short, rotund figure move so quickly? It was a concept that scared him-however fast it was, a full rank of elfish guards would undoubtedly be able to move quicker, especially if they were on horseback. Behind him he could hear shouts and calls of alarm. Would they be able to track him in the dark? He should probably assume so.
Lokkich climbed a hill that stood outside the edge of the Fayre. He rose effortlessly up its side like a windblown beach ball, while Daniel staggered and gasped beside him.
“Ho there, whisht!” Lokkich called in a harsh whisper, closing the shutter on his lamp.
A light appeared from behind a clump of trees-a torch that was held by a thin, gaunt-faced being that looked less than human or elfish. It didn’t seem to have any striking features apart from its plainness. It was bald, with a rounded, formless brow and long, sagging jowls. It reminded Daniel more of the face of a dog.
“There you are, you wretched thing. Give me that,” Lokkich said, snatching the torch from its grasp. “Daniel,” he said, “give him the cloak.”
Daniel undid the clasp of the cloak that Lokkich had given him earlier and handed it over. When he looked up into its face again, he was so startled he let out a cry, quickly raising his own hand to muffle it.
“Shh!” Lokkich commanded, handing Daniel his own cloak and backpack back. “What’s the matter? Do you want to make it so easy for them to find us?”
“I’m sorry, I just . . .” Daniel kept looking at the person in front of him. Its skin was no longer sagging; it was tightening, twitch by twitch, into features. It was making itself look like Daniel. A tuft of brown hair was even appearing on its head, and it seemed to be shrinking.
“That’s enough, you,” Lokkich said, angrily striking the thing on its head. “You don’t want to give the game away completely.
Take this again.” He thrust the torch back to the thing. “Go that way.” He pointed along the tree line. “Run. Your life depends on it. Now!”
It took off at a run, the blue cape and orange torch flames flapping behind it.
“What is it?” Daniel asked.
“It’s a changeling. Vile member of a reprobate race. It has its purposes, though.”
“What happens if they catch it?”
Just at that moment, there was a shout from below. “A light!” they heard someone call.
“If they kill it, they’ll do us a favor. Quickly, this way.” Lokkich hurried off again, with Daniel trying to keep pace behind him, deciding along the way that it would be a good idea to reload his handgun. After a while, Lokkich opened the shutter on his lantern again and slowed his pace.
“Are we going to get there in time? Is it too late?” Daniel asked, struggling for breath.
“We’re here already,” the other answered. “Now, take these.”
A small bag was thrust into Daniel’s hands. It contained the items from his own world that he had killed Fiall for-the videotape, phone charger, comic book, and some odds and ends like the newer coins and mechanical pencils that Daniel had picked out. Daniel made sure to check that they were all there.
“Watch your step,” Lokkich cautioned.
Daniel looked up and saw that they were standing on the top of a cliff. There was a large standing stone, about ten feet high, and then empty air-darkness.
The squat merchant put his hand out and moved it around, as if feeling the air. He muttered some words and the space in front of them started to . . . brighten. It was as if shadows of light were growing just above the cliff face.
“Daniel?” He heard Freya’s voice call again, uncertain this time.
“This is it, just step through,” Lokkich said. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did.”
“Wait, you want me to just walk off the cliff?”
“Yes, you must if you are to return.”
“This is the way back home that you weren’t sure was going to work the first time?” he asked, looking over the edge of the cliff and estimating a forty-foot drop.
“Conditions are ideal right now. What is more, you are being called. Summoned, if you like. You can’t ask for better than that. Please, do it quickly. I cannot do it for you.”
Daniel crept close to the cliff’s edge. He was just about to take a deep breath to prepare himself for stepping out into certain death when a hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed him.
7
When the ghostly form of Daniel appeared within the lych-gate, Freya
didn’t hesitate. She leapt forward and grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled back with all of her strength. It was as if he solidified inside of her fingers. Suddenly she was falling backwards with him on top of her. They hit the ground together.
She lay, winded, looking up at the sky. Turning her head she saw Daniel, rolling gently onto his side. He saw her and smiled.
“You saved me,” he said.
Freya looked down. “What is it with you and clothes? You pick up something wherever you go. Where were you?”
“Elfland.”
“What, are you serious?”
“It’s a long story. I came back as fast as I could. I thought you were in danger. I thought I needed to save you.”
“No, I managed pretty well on my own,” Freya said.
“Really? I’m sorry. How long was I gone? It was weeks to me.
More than a month.”
“Not too sure on that point. It may have been just a couple days.”
Daniel closed his eyes. Days. Only days. He rolled over and sat up. “Well, I’m not doing that again.”
“No, me neither.”
“Were you in trouble, really?”
Freya was just about to answer when a dark shape flew down from the sky and struck Daniel square in the chest. He went down, the black shadow-a human figure-on top of him. The attacking shape’s face was bone-white and bald, its mouth full of sharp teeth. Luckily, Daniel had his arm up and under his attacker’s jaw, or he would’ve had his throat already torn out. Slaver from those terrifying jaws was already dripping onto his collar. The thing’s left hand was pinning Daniel’s right, and its right was clutching at the side of Daniel’s head.
Freya looked around for something heavy to hit the attacker with-a brick or a stick-but there was nothing in view.
“Fr’ya,” Daniel uttered, half-choked. “Sw’rd . . . l’ft side . . .”
The Realms Thereunder aet-1 Page 30
