by Anthea Sharp
“Wait,” he called. There was something painful and yearning in his voice that Jennet pretended not to hear.
They watched in silence as the doorway shrank to a thin, purple line. Then it was gone. In the light of her staff, Tam’s face looked pale and young. She didn’t like it - didn’t like him looking so lost and vulnerable. He was supposed to be the strong one, the heroic knight, not the one who needed saving.
“Why did you do that?” he asked. “We could have—”
“What? Met the queen on ground of her own choosing and lost right away? Or let her lead you over the hills while the Black Knight lopped my head off? Something about that setup wasn’t right, Tam.”
He shook his head, but not like he disagreed. More as though he was trying to clear his thoughts.
“Maybe.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Now what? Puck took off. We get to wander around until the goblins find us again?”
“We can’t stay here.” She waved at the blank rock wall facing them. “Didn’t Puck say something about finding the way out?”
“He said follow the stairway. I haven’t seen any stairs though. Have you?”
“Not yet. But faeries can’t lie. They can bend and twist the truth, or make you hear what you want to believe. But if Puck said there’s a stairway, then there must be one.”
“Good. I’m getting pretty tired of these caves.” His hair had fallen back over his face.
Jennet started forward, not bothering to make some cheerful remark. Either they would get out, or the goblins would find and eat them.
At the place where their tunnel connected to the bigger one, she paused. Had they come from the left, or the right? All she remembered was pushing through purple light.
Tam came up beside her. He had re-summoned his armor, and it was a relief to see him ready for battle.
“Which way?” she asked.
He glanced both directions, frowning. “Wait a sec. Do you hear something?”
She held her breath. A faint sound, like dripping water or music, came from their right. “Yes. Let’s follow it.”
They walked quietly. The plunk and splash of single notes, single drops of water, grew louder, until it wasn’t a hopeful echo in her ears, but something real and solid. It was both water and music, and soon the notes became a melody - something she almost recognized.
Tam leaned closer, keeping his voice soft. “Is that an old ballad or something?”
“An old song, anyway.”
The name of it teased her memory. With each step, the tune grew louder and more familiar. When she finally remembered, she almost laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s a song called Stairway to Heaven. Thomas used to play it. In fact, that’s probably him up ahead.” For the first time since they ended up in the Goblin Kingdom, she felt like they were safe. Almost safe, anyway.
“Puck.” Tam made a face. “Follow the stairway. Right.”
Ahead, the tunnel grew lighter. In a few moments they stepped into another cavern. She sucked in her breath at the beauty of it. Delicate white stalactites draped from the roof. To one side, a bright blue pool of water reflected a ball of glowing light drifting in the center of the room. Music swelled and surrounded them, guitar notes played by a figure sitting on a pale boulder.
“Thomas!” she said. “I was right.”
The bard smiled at her and finished the last run of notes. “Well met, Jennet.” His expression sobered when he looked at Tam. “Tamlin. Beware the enticement of the Dark Queen. She weaves a shroud of enchantment that’s nigh impossible to break.”
Tam shifted, but didn’t reply.
Thomas sighed. “What day is it in your world?”
“Just the twentieth,” Jennet said. “We were here yesterday. Plenty of time still.”
“I hope it is so.” The bard’s deep gaze rested on her a long moment. “The next time you enter the world, you will be at the edge of the Dark Court. Do not tarry. You must defeat the queen and reclaim what is yours, before the gateway opens.”
“Yes, you’ve told us that before.” Tam folded his arms. “Got any ideas about how to defeat the queen? And what about making sure the door stays locked from our side?”
“Magic has a treacherous nature,” Thomas said. “Coming from the mortal world as I do, I know little of it, nor the how.”
“Some help you are.”
“Hey.” Jennet took a step forward. Why did Tam always get so irritated around Thomas? “He’s helping us the best he can.”
“The two of you must depart,” Thomas said. “There is a faerie ring in the back of this cave that will take you home. But you must promise me that you will speak together. There are things each of you knows that are of great import.”
Tam gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Like the details of a certain defeat at the hands of the Dark Queen. Little stuff like that.”
“All right.” She swallowed the dry fear in her throat. No putting it off any longer.
“Fare well, brave adventurers,” Thomas said. He set his fingers on his guitar again, played a flourishing chord, and disappeared.
“Thomas…” She was talking to an uninhabited boulder.
“Come on.” Tam jerked his head toward the back of the cave. “I can’t wait to hear your explanation.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jennet lifted the gaming helm. She felt woozy from the passage back through the golden light.
“Well.” Tam had unhooked from the system already. He stood beside her chair, arms folded. “I’m ready for that explanation.”
“Give me a minute. Jeez.” She sat up, then clambered out of the chair, on the opposite side from where he waited. “Want some tea? We could heat some water—”
“No. Talk.”
There was no avoiding it. She let out a slow breath, then went across the room and perched on the couch in the sitting area. Tam slouched down in a chair across from her.
“All right,” she began, but no more words would come out.
She bit her lower lip until it stung. Her stomach felt like she had swallowed a mouthful of that disorienting light. Tam just watched her from behind his hair, his green eyes wary. God, she hated how this was going to feel. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it across her middle.
“Ok,” she tried again. “You know the kids with chips, the rich ones…”
The silence stretched between them, until he spoke. “The ones like you?”
“Yes.” She squirmed inside. Time to lay it all out. “The snobs, the bullies, the privileged. The ones who will kick you for being a loser, the ones who know everyone else is worthless. Those kids. Exactly like me.”
He frowned, though it wasn’t directed at her. “You’re not—”
“I was, though. Before.” She drew in a deep breath.
“Before what?”
“Before we moved here. Before I lost to the queen. I was arrogant, just like that. I thought that appearance mattered more than what was inside. I mean, I knew better, a part of me did, but when you’re surrounded by it…” She squeezed the pillow tighter. “Well, thinking like that becomes as natural as breathing. There was a kid at our school - and you need to know that it was a much richer school than the one here - anyway, she was so obviously poor, such a misfit. We made fun of her, all the time, of her raggedy clothes and hair that stuck out all over the place. She was different, and that made us, the privileged, that much tighter. Does that make sense?”
He nodded. That thoughtful expression was back on his face. At least he didn’t look like he hated her. Yet.
“What happened to her?” he asked.
“Nothing too dire, if that’s what you’re thinking. But we treated her badly, in lots of little ways. She was still there when I left. Maybe things are better now, since I told the teachers and admins about the bullying before I moved.”
“So - what does this have to do with losing to the queen?”
Jennet swallowed. “Thomas warned me abo
ut being unkind, but it’s a hard habit to break. Anyway, when I started playing Feyland, there was this little hob-type creature. Raggedy clothes and hair that stuck out all crazy-like. She kept showing up asking for my help, but she wasn’t acting like a quest-giver or anything.”
Tam sat up a little straighter. “So you refused?”
Regret burned through her. “I wish I could go back and change that. It was only little things she needed. Sweeping out a cottage. Hanging some clothes. Fetching water from a well. It would have been easy to do, but I blew her off.”
“Three times?”
“Three. Yes, the magic number. Because she was odd and poor and even in-game seemed worthless.”
“Like the girl in real life.” He shook his head. “Like me.”
“No! Not like you. Tam, I—”
“You found a poor boy who would be easy to use, huh? A loser.” His expression hardened into dislike - for her? For himself?
“It’s not like that!” She flung the pillow on the floor. Leaning forward, she grabbed his hands. He didn’t pull away. “No. Not a loser. I found the best gamer in the school, who turned out to be a pretty decent guy.”
He met her gaze, the hard look in his eyes easing. The feel of his hands in hers tingled through her. After a long moment he cleared his throat and sat back, slipping free.
“So. Your fight with the queen.”
She fished the pillow off the floor, but didn’t hug it again. “It wasn’t a normal kind of battle. Even then, I could tell things were getting odd in the game. Anyway, it started out with fighting. I was zapping the queen with my staff, and she was casting these dark spheres that floated around and protected her while doing damage to my character. But then things changed.”
The memory was hard to catch hold of, a hazy wisp of half-dreaming. There had been stars and a gibbous moon, and a silver goblet full of dark, perfumed liquid that she had almost, almost sipped.
“Changed?” Tam prompted.
“We weren’t battling any more. We were sitting together at a high table, and the queen asked me a riddle. I tried, but… I couldn’t answer it.”
“Do you remember what it was?”
She folded her hands into fists. The problem was, she had been trying for months to forget the whole thing. “She told me the answer at the end - it was Life.”
“Ok.” He gave her a cautious look. “What happened next?”
Jennet closed her eyes, pulling the memory up from deep shadows. “The queen smiled at me, a terrible, beautiful smile. She beckoned to a figure in the shadows, and there was the pathetic hob-creature. Show your true form, my handmaiden, the queen said, and the creature shuffled forward. She transformed, right in front of me, into a beautiful faerie maid.” Jennet shivered. “She laughed at me. Laughed and said that my own arrogance and blindness had cost me dearly. If I had helped her, she would have helped me in turn to solve the queen’s riddle. But I had not. And so I lost.”
Lost. Lost. The word echoed in her mind. She kept her eyes closed, hoping Tam didn’t hate her.
He was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was sober. “You lost. And not just the game.”
“No.” She made herself open her eyes, but kept her gaze fixed on the plum-colored upholstery. “The queen said a part of me was now forfeit to Feyland. She inscribed some glowing runes in the air, and there was this ripping cold. Next thing I knew, I was out of the game. I was really sick - spent a week in the hospital. The doctors called it ‘summer pneumonia,’ as if they had any clue. And…” Her voice trembled, but she had to say this next part. “I think Thomas must have figured out what happened. I think he went in to get that part of me back, and ended up trapped forever. Not only did I lose, I… I was responsible for his death.”
Grief hit her, hard and sudden, like a punch to the stomach. She curled up and gasped from it. Tears of regret, of blame and loss, etched down her cheeks.
“Hey, shh. Hey there.” Tam was suddenly beside her, his arm around her shoulders, his hand stroking her hair.
He didn’t tell her everything was all right - they both knew that wasn’t true. He didn’t tell her not to blame herself, or to stop crying. He just was there, accepting. Somehow that made it easier to bear.
Finally she pulled herself together and breathed away the tears. She sat up and pulled her sleeve across her face, trying not to think about how she must look - her eyes red from weeping, her hair stuck to her cheek with tears. Tam didn’t seem to notice, or it didn’t bother him. Either way she was grateful.
“Better?” His voice was gentler than she’d ever heard it.
She let herself lean against him and took a deep breath. He was solid and safe, and for a minute, she let herself believe that things were going to be all right.
“Yes,” she said. “Thanks.”
“Give me a couple days to sort all this out,” he said, dropping his arm and scooting a couple inches away. “Feyland is intense, and what you just told me, well - somehow it all fits together. But I’m not ready to go charging in quite yet.”
“Me either.” She wished he would hug her again. “Anyway, it’s okay. We can take a day or two off. There’s still time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Tam slept late on Saturday. He was vaguely aware of voices - Mom and the Bug - before dreaming pulled him under again. When he finally woke, the house was quiet. Too quiet. No smell of coffee. No clacking of tools as the Bug messed with his hard-drive.
He kicked off his sleeping bag and scrambled to his feet. Mom had only been home a few days. Surely she hadn’t run off already? Worry clenched through him, but he forced it back. Maybe she left a note.
He checked the table three times, but there was nothing. With fear crawling up his throat, he stepped into Mom’s tiny bedroom. It was painted a soothing blue that did nothing to stop the worry hammering through him.
The inlaid box on the bookshelf, where Mom kept the money, was empty. God, she was gone again. But why did she take Peter? Or was his brother downstairs?
He pulled on his jeans and flew down the rickety staircase. The heavy metal door was locked. Finally the stubborn key turned and Tam heaved open the door. Empty, dark and quiet. No annoying little brother to be found.
Ok, breathe. Think. Mom loved Peter - she wouldn’t do something dumb like sell him for medical parts or turn him over to a gang boss.
So where were they?
His pulse roared. No, wait. That was some kind of motorcycle, the sound bouncing around from the street. It stopped outside the building. Tam went outside and locked the door, then looked around the corner.
A cop, in body-armor and a faceless helm, sat astride a cycle. The motor throbbed in time with Tam’s heartbeat. When the cop saw him, he cut the engine and glanced down at his hand-held.
“This 1329 Bittern Street?” he asked in a gravelly voice. He slanted a look up, at the shack they called home. The weak sunlight slid across his polished helm
“Yeah.” Tam shoved his hands in his pockets. This had to do with Mom and the Bug, he just knew it.
“You Mister Tam Linn?”
“I am.”
“Got ID?”
Tam lifted one shoulder. “Upstairs. What’s going on? Uh, sir.” It was like talking to the creatures in Feyland - best if you followed protocol.
“We got your family at the station. Your Ma’s in lockup, and your kid brother wants to come home. Got any more kin here? Anybody else responsible for you?”
“No. What happened?” He barely remembered to add, “Sir.”
“She tried a dump-and-run at the hospital. The orderlies caught her before she could get out. Most people do that with babies, though. Not bigger kids.”
“My brother is… different.” Oh Mom. What a stupid thing to try. He could figure out her reasons, though, and it made him feel queasy and heartsick.
“Well you gotta come up to the station and get the kid. Bring your ID.”
“What about my mom?”
“We keep her a few days. Counseling, all that.”
“But—”
“Station closes at three, and you don’t want the kid there overnight. Trust me.” Before Tam could say anything else, the cop fired up his cycle, patted his holster, and roared away.
Damn.
He trudged up the stairs. First thing to do was message Jennet and let her know their plans for playing over the weekend were dud. Then it would take a trip on three different buses to get to the station and retrieve the Bug. Would they let him see Mom? What would he even say to her?
Underneath the planning, part of his brain was kicking and screaming. How could she do this to him, to their family? How was he going to explain it to Peter? And how was he going to help Jennet defeat the queen when his own life was falling apart around him?
At dinner, Jennet sat quietly across from her dad and pushed her green beans around on her plate. Worry had curdled her appetite, and she didn’t know what to think of the terse message Tam had sent. :Life stuff, can’t come. See you at school:
He knew how close they were to endgame, how important it was. Whatever had happened, it must be serious.
“You’re quiet tonight,” her dad said. “Anything you want to talk about?”
Yes. No. But how could she possibly explain?
“I miss Thomas.” The words were out before she realized what she was going to say.
Dad’s face shuttered. “Me too, Jen. Me too.”
Well, that brought the conversation to a screeching halt. After a minute she pushed her plate away. “So, how’s work going?”
“Slowly.” He shook his head. “Without Thomas… well, we’re behind schedule. And the CEO is pushing us hard. She wants a release in time for the holidays.”
If only Jennet could get Dad in-game. She knew Thomas would convince him to drop the project altogether. But there was no chance.
Dad took another bite of meat, and then rested his hands on the table. “Isn’t your friend Tam coming over this weekend? George says he seems pleasant enough.”
