by Anthea Sharp
“Attacked you? How? They’re tiny specks.”
“I know.” She shook her head. “But bees are small, too, and you wouldn’t want a swarm of them on you. Anyway, I think the pixies recognized me, from playing before.”
“So, maybe there is a connection between the Courts. And between the games.”
He glanced up at the shimmers dancing through the trees. Time to find some answers. He just hoped Feyland would cooperate.
Senses primed, he started down the path. Behind him, Jennet’s footfalls were light. The pixies floated, keeping pace with them, but didn’t come any closer. Was that a good sign, or not? It felt as though the game was holding its breath.
After a minute the forest thinned, revealing glimpses of rolling green hills beyond. They came out of the trees, and he looked around. Nothing but waving grasses and scattered clumps of bushes.
“No cottage,” Jennet said, coming up beside him. She glanced around, then frowned. “Either Hob or Fynnod should be here. Something, anyway. Do you think we broke the game?”
“No - it doesn’t feel broken. Maybe Feyland hasn’t made up its mind where to take us.”
She folded her arms. “We need a quest-giver.”
He shaded his eyes with one hand and scanned the horizon.
“I think I see something,” he said. “There, where the hills dip down. Can’t tell if it’s a building or what, though. Let’s go see.”
“All right, but be on guard,” she said. “In Roy’s game, we were jumped by some creatures right after we left the cottage.”
“Then stay close.”
He set off, heading toward the low hills. The meadow sloped up and down, and in a few minutes the forest was a distant smudge behind them. Time and distance were weird like that, in-game.
“Tam, wait.” Jennet stopped, glancing at the hillocks to either side. “This looks like the place where Roy and I were ambush - ”
The ground in front of them exploded, sending clods of earth spraying around them. Three red-cap goblins scrambled out of the dirt, brandishing wickedly-barbed spears. They bared their pointed teeth and rushed forward.
“Get back!” Tam yelled, pulling his sword.
His shield appeared, strapped to his arm - just in time. Two of the spear-points met it with a clang, and he felt the shock down to his toes. He ducked, and the other spear whistled past his helm.
Behind him, he heard the twang of a bow-string. A blue-shafted arrow sped by and glanced off the leather armor of the right-hand goblin.
Tam moved to the side, weaving around the spears and trying to give Jennet a clear shot.
“Aurgch!” cried the lead goblin as an arrow struck his arm. He stopped attacking and tried to pluck it out.
Ignoring the assault on their leader, the other goblins didn’t hold back. Tam parried their spear thrusts, dancing back, ducking. Frustration sizzled through him. He couldn’t attack - those nasty spears held him at a distance, making his blade pretty much useless. Jennet’s arrows were slowing the first goblin, but the others were a problem.
He raised his shield and charged forward. Metal screeched as one of the spears slid across his armor, but he was close enough now - inside the reach of the points, where his sword could finally be useful. He stabbed the goblin in front of him, and green blood spurted from its shoulder. It fell back with a cry, only to be replaced by the second creature.
This one seemed to realize it couldn’t poke at Tam. It brought the spear haft up with both hands, using it like a quarter-staff to block Tam’s attack. The two of them circled, making quick feints. Tam landed a strike, cutting the goblin’s arm, and was rewarded with a blow to the side of the head that made his ears ring.
The wounded goblin, clutching his shoulder, came up on Tam’s right. On his left, the leader moved forward, with four arrows sticking out of him. The creature in front of him raised his spear and grinned.
Tam swung, hard, just as the three goblins rushed him. His sword imbedded itself in the leader’s chest armor - and stuck. The goblin staggered, then gained his balance and gave Tam an evil grin.
“Jennet,” Tam called, “keep shooting!”
Where were the arrows? Why had she stopped?
He wrenched his blade free, but it cost him a blow to his ribs that nearly took his breath. Before he could recover, the leader swept his spear low, tangling Tam’s legs.
“Jennet!” he cried again, trying to keep his balance. “Shoot him, now!”
The goblins hefted their spears, a killing light in their eyes. Tam was at their mercy - and they knew it.
“Hold on,” Jennet called. “One more second.”
He didn’t have a second. Praying he wouldn’t stab himself, he threw himself into a roll. A wicked spear point swished past his ear, and everything seemed to slow down. The goblins leered and advanced, while he scrambled to his feet. Too slowly. There was no way he could deflect all three spears, poised to jab and rend. Regret seared through him. He’d failed Jennet.
A horn sounded, clear and silvery. From behind him came the thunder of hoof beats. The goblins looked up, and their faces went slack. A moment later, they turned and fled, clutching their spears and making high, whimpering sounds.
Tam froze in place as a tide of mounted knights swept by on either side of him. The ground shook under his feet, the white horses passing a hair’s breadth away. As they flew past, he saw that the knights were wearing white tabards with red crosses emblazoned on the front. They held their glowing swords aloft, pursuing the fleeing goblins over the rise.
Two heartbeats later, the crusading knights were gone. The grass ahead was flattened, the only sign that anything had just happened.
“Did you see that?” Tam turned. “Jennet!”
She lay crumpled in a heap on the ground. Panic spiked his heartbeat as he sprinted to her. Had the mounted knights trampled her? He tossed his sword to the side and gathered her in his arms, searching for her heartbeat. When his fingers found the pulse in her throat, he let out a shaky breath.
“Jennet, can you hear me? Hey, wake up.” He smoothed the hair back from her face. Please, open your eyes. Be all right.
For a long moment there was no response. Fear stuttered in his chest. Then her eyelids fluttered open.
“Tam?” Her voice was almost a whisper.
He tried not to squeeze her too tightly. “You scared me.”
It was a weak word for the panic that had consumed him. Damn it. When had Jennet become so important? When she saved your life? a voice inside him suggested. Or maybe when he’d saved hers.
“Did the knights appear?” she asked, trying to sit up. “Did we beat the goblins?”
He leaned back, giving her some space, but kept one arm around her for support.
“Yeah,” he said. “A bunch of knights came out of nowhere and kicked their goblin asses. Just in time, too.”
“It worked!” She managed a wavering smile. “That’s so sparked. I created them with my Kitsune illusion powers, when I saw the fight was getting grim.”
“They were great - but Jennet,” he gave her a tiny shake, “it doesn’t do any good to summon an army to help us, if it kills you in the process.”
“I wasn’t expecting the illusion to take so much out of me.” She frowned. “I created a hawk, when I was in-game with Roy, and that only made me a little tired.”
“An army of mounted knights riding to the rescue is a bit more complicated than a bird.”
“Yeah.” She blew out her breath. “But they saved your butt. That was no easy-level fight.”
For a second, his body clenched with the memory of those deadly spears aimed right at him.
“Maybe the game doesn’t want us to find a quest-giver.”
“We’re not that easy to stop.” She sat forward. “I’m feeling a little better. I think this illusion thing is like when we summon items in-game.”
He nodded. “That makes sense. Something can’t be created from nothing - and the bigger the stuff,
the more it takes out of you.”
“I wonder if…” she raised her arms.
“Jennet, stop.” He caught her hands. “Don’t drain your energy.”
“But when there’s another fight - ”
“Stick with the bow for now,” he said. “You’re a decent shot. We can figure this illusion-casting out later.”
“All right.” She leaned back against him. “I have to say, we make a great team.”
Their hands were still clasped. Tam dipped his head and brushed his lips over the top of her hair. So lightly, she couldn’t feel it - a stolen glimpse of happiness. She smelled like flowers.
“We should get going,” she said after a minute.
“You sure you’re ready?”
“Yeah. Help me stand.”
Tam got to his feet and pulled her up. She swayed a second, then caught her balance.
“Makes me wish I had my mage staff,” she said.
“You can lean on me.” Always.
“I don’t want to get in the way of your sword.” She took a few steps, then gave him a pale smile. “Good as new. Let’s go.”
He kept a close eye on her, ready to catch her if she stumbled, but she did seem to be recovered. The long grasses around them moved in the breeze, and the sky was a perfect blue overhead, but Tam didn’t let down his guard.
They headed toward the place he’d seen earlier, where the hills opened up. Sometimes it seemed close, and then they would crest a rise and the meadow would stretch onward, like they’d made no progress at all. Finally, he glimpsed the structure up ahead. It was grey and rocky, covered with swatches of moss, as though it had grown out of the ground.
“Look,” Jennet said. “You were right - there’s something there.”
“It doesn’t look like a building.” He squinted, trying to make sense of the shape. “Any ideas?”
She tilted her head. “It’s a dolmen.”
“A what?”
“Two standing stones with a capstone laid over the top. You know, like an ancient gravesite.”
He didn’t know, but as they approached there was something primally familiar about the shape. The massive granite stones formed a shape like a doorway. His nerves tightened.
“Stop.” He gestured for Jennet to stay back, then pulled his sword and squinted into the shadows. “There’s something in there.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THE BRIGHT COURT
Jennet grabbed her bow, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She was barely recovered from the last fight - her weapon felt heavy in her hands, and she just wanted to sit down in the sweetly scented grass and take a rest. But there was no napping in Feyland.
Holding his sword at the ready, Tam approached the dark opening of the dolmen. She reached for an arrow and quietly nocked it to her bow. The wind ruffled the grasses, but inside the stones everything was still. She wanted to call out for him to be careful, but held her tongue. Tam knew what he was doing.
The silence stretched, shadows gathering thickly in the hollow of stones. Then a thunk issued from the opening.
“Come out,” Tam said.
For a moment, there was no answer. Then a figure moved forward into the light - a man with ancient, weary eyes and gray-brown hair. He had a guitar slung across his back.
All her fear left her in a rush. “Thomas!”
She dropped her bow and sprinted toward him, tears prickling the back of her eyes. He held out his arms, and she went straight into his hug.
“There you are, Jennet,” he said in his warm, raspy voice. “And Tamlin as well. I have been waiting for you, though I had hoped our meeting would not come so soon.”
Tam slid his sword back into its sheath, metal hissing on metal.
“What do you mean, waiting for us?” he asked. “How long have you been here?”
“How long? I cannot say. Time has a different meaning in Feyland. Long enough, it seems.” Thomas let go of Jennet and stepped back, looking her over. “You have taken a new form. I pray it serves you well on the path fate has laid for you.”
“Fate?” she asked.
He nodded. “It is always at work, but here in the Realm one can feel fate clearly, weaving the threads of lives. Come - place your hands against the stone.”
Thomas moved to the dolmen and laid his palm on the granite. Jennet followed, though she wasn’t sure she believed in destiny or whatever. The stone was rough and sun-warmed under her hand. After a moment, Tam did the same, a skeptical look in his green eyes.
“Now,” Thomas said, “close your eyes. Do you feel the power, the magic and intent of the land?”
She did - a vibration thrumming through the stone, like a note too low to hear, but felt in her chest, in her bones. The skin of her palm throbbed, then suddenly flared up, as though she had passed her hand over a flame.
“Ow!” She snatched it away and stared at her palm.
The red scar burned into her hand was glowing, so bright it was almost white-hot. As she watched, the light faded, along with the searing sensation, until the mark left by the Dark Queen was just a faint trace on her skin.
“Are you ok?” Tam stood in front of her.
“Yeah.” Her voice wobbled. “Look - my right hand is almost completely healed.”
She held out her hands, palms up, and he took them gently, comparing the two. “Wow. Can the stone fix the other one, too?”
“Worth a try.”
She put her left palm to the granite - but there was no humming within the rock, no flare of energy. When she took her hand away, it was unchanged.
Tam frowned. “It didn’t work.”
“I suspected it would not,” Thomas said. “The magic of this place never moves in the same way twice. It is beautiful, and confusing, and dangerous, as you both well know. More dangerous by the day, as the power of the Realm stirs. It wants to flow into the human world like a wave, washing everything before it and changing the mortal realm beyond recognition.”
Jennet shivered, fear seeping into her like an icy mist. “So… my version of Feyland isn’t just a fluke? The game really is dangerous?”
“It is perilous beyond words.” Thomas slung his guitar off his back and began to play a mournful melody. “We must speak of it quietly. Better not to draw the attention of the powers that rule the Realm.”
“Where are we, anyway?” Tam asked. “This doesn’t seem like the way to the Dark Court, not exactly.”
“We are on the fringes of Feyland. A place where possibilities overlap. Where things are, and are not, at the same time.”
Thomas always spoke in half-riddles. He’d been poetical when he was alive, and becoming the queen’s Bard had only made it worse. Of course, when he was alive, he had also talked about baseball and tech stuff and movies - things that didn’t exist in the Realm of Faerie.
She had the uncomfortable thought that his humanity was beginning to fade, diluted by dwelling among the fey folk. If only she could get him out somehow - but he had refused to leave Feyland, saying he no longer had a body to return to. She supposed he was right, but the thought of him stuck here forever with the Dark Queen made her want to weep.
“Now what?” Tam asked. “We just stand here and listen to you give a concert?”
Jennet gave him a warning glance. He was always so impatient with Thomas.
“Have you heard of another mortal coming here recently?” she asked. “There’s a guy in our school who has some kind of weird powers. He’s played Feyland. And he talked about a king.”
“Ah.” Thomas’s fingers moved to shape a minor chord. “There have been no mortals in the Dark Court since you defeated the queen. She was greatly angered - it is best if you never return to her court. But there is another place this human boy might have traveled.”
Tam leaned forward. “So we’re right - there is a Seelie court?”
“In this land, at this time, it is called the Bright Court,” Thomas said. “Heed the power of names, Tamlin.”
“Is it ruled by a k
ing?” Jennet asked.
Her nerves tingled with anticipation. Finally, they were getting the answers they needed. Even if those answers were grim - like knowing Feyland truly was a threat.
“Indeed,” Thomas said. “The Bright King is gathering his power. If you wish to keep your mortal world safe, you must find a way to stop him.”
“Defeat him in battle?” Tam asked.
“Perhaps.” Thomas played another curl of melody. “Defeat can come in many forms.”
“But you can help us,” she said. “Like you did with the queen.”
“Alas, I cannot.”
Her throat went dry with disappointment “Why not? Thomas, we need you.”
“It is impossible for me to enter the Bright Court. I am bound to the Dark Queen, and thus barred from the halls of the Seelie.”
“Can’t you do anything?” She couldn’t help the pleading note in her voice. How could he just abandon them?
“I may only give you counsel.” Thomas looked at her with his sad eyes. “But it does not mean that others cannot assist you.”
“Who?” she asked. “Puck?”
“Like his help is so helpful,” Tam said.
She turned to him. “If Thomas can’t help us, we need everything we can get. And Puck got us out of some rough places last time, remember?”
“Yeah, but - ”
“Children, be still.” Thomas played a quick run of notes. “My time here grows short, but I have one last piece of advice. Use the strengths that gained you victory once, and you will triumph in the end.”
Jennet could see the outline of the stones behind him - his presence was starting to fade.
“Which strengths?” Jennet asked, her voice thick with sorrow. “Wait - Thomas…”
“Do not cry, Jennet. We must go where fate sends us, and do our best. Even if we do not understand the purpose, or feel strong or wise enough to play our part. Now listen - yonder lies the boundary of the lands claimed by the Bright Court.” He pointed to a tall, gray rock poking up from the horizon. “You must reach the standing stone marking the border. Do not tarry here overlong.”
“But…”
She lifted her hand toward him, but he was disappearing before her eyes. There was almost nothing left but a dim outline against the granite, an echo of notes hanging in the air.
