by Anthea Sharp
Definitely not in the Realm any more.
Jennet lay still, her eyes closed, her pale blonde hair almost white where it spread out over the black grass.
“Jennet?” he said. His voice was creaky.
Her eyelids fluttered open. She glanced around, then levered herself up.
“The Twilight Kingdom,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it.”
“Me either.”
He had thought Feyland was strange, but this—this was a whole new level of freaky. Tree-shaped foliage grew around them, like a wavery reflection of trees glimpsed in a pond covered with dark oil. The air held a harshness, a strange tang that human lungs weren’t supposed to breathe. Overhead, the sky glowed an uncanny purple. They were not in the midnight forest of the Dark Court, nor the bejeweled brilliance of the Bright.
Bard Thomas’s words echoed in his mind. A between place. He had once called Feyland that, a place where all kinds of magic existed.
What more was possible in a place like the Twilight Kingdom?
Tam took a deep breath and raised his arms. Slowly, his body rose into the air. Giddiness trembled through him. It was working! He paused, hovering six feet off the ground.
“Tam.” Jennet’s eyes were huge. “What are you doing?”
“Haven’t you always wanted to fly? For real—not in a game, not in dreams, but really fly?”
Tucking his arms in, he swooped forward and skimmed above the glowing circle of mushrooms. Exhilaration bubbled in his head, like he was drinking pure fizz.
“Wow. I…” She shook her head and rose to join him in the air. “This is amazing.”
“Definitely better than walking.”
It felt as easy as walking, though—something he could do without conscious thought. All he had to do was decide where to go, and his body followed.
He smiled at Jennet. Despite the eeriness of the Twilight Kingdom, their impossible quest to wake the Elder Fey from their deep dreamings—whatever those were—and the danger awaiting them, he was filled with joy. He’d never thought he’d experience such real magic. Not Tam Linn, destitute kid from the Exe.
Then again, he never thought he’d have a girlfriend like Jennet, either. The world was full of possibilities.
She pivoted in the air. “Which way?”
“The light seems stronger over there.” He pointed.
“Let’s get above these trees.”
They rose higher, until the wavery foliage lay beneath their feet. As he’d thought, there was more light to the left; an orange glow cast into the dimness, illuminating the rugged silhouette of low mountains. Between them and the mountains spread groves of the odd trees, and a river shining silvery-pale, the way water takes on light at dusk.
“Race you to the river,” Jennet said, a teasing flash in her eyes.
Before he could reply, she was off, her hair and robes streaming behind her. Tam leaped into the air, making sure he was flying parallel to the ground. Those robes of hers had to be giving her some wind resistance. Sure enough, he was gaining on her.
“How fast do you think we can go?” she called to him.
“Let’s find out.”
Half-closing his eyes against the rip of the wind, Tam imagined he was a bullet, a train, something faster even than thought. He shot forward, and Jennet yelped in surprise as he flew past her.
Without warning, he crashed into something—hard. His head throbbed, his lungs clenched, and his whole body whimpered in pain.
“Tam,” Jennet screamed, “catch yourself!”
Belatedly, he realized he was falling out of the air, the dark ground hurtling up at him.
Float, he thought, and at the last second levitated enough to land with a jolt beside the river instead of splattering all over. Jennet descended and grabbed his shoulders, her fingers digging into him.
“Are you all right? What happened?” She scanned his face, her own full of worry.
“I hit something. I’m ok.”
“You better be.”
She pulled him into a tight hug, and for a moment he let himself feel nothing but the shape of her body against him, her hair softly brushing his cheek. But the throbbing ache of impact wouldn’t be pushed away for long. He let out a pained breath and stepped back, squinting into the sky.
“Whatever I hit was invisible, but plenty solid.”
“At least we made it to the river.” Jennet folded her arms. “Next time, no racing.”
“I win.” He smiled at her, though he felt a bruise forming on his forehead.
She rolled her eyes, his joking clearly easing her worry. No need to tell her how much he actually hurt.
“Let’s cross and see what’s on the other side.” She floated up, then stayed there, unmoving. “Hey. I’m stuck.”
“Can you come down?”
“Yeah.” She descended onto the soft black grass. “Just not forward. It’s like a wall of air built up beside the river.”
He rose again and, careful of his bruised head, tried to fly across the river. No luck.
“That’s what I ran into,” he said.
Jennet studied the silvery glow of the river. “In some fairy tales, magic can’t cross running water. Maybe that’s what’s going on.”
“How do we get across? It’s at least twenty feet wide.”
“Swim?”
Tam glanced at the viscous water and shook his head. “That water doesn’t look normal. There has to be a bridge. somewhere.”
“We don’t have much time before Mr. Chon calls the beta team back.”
“He won’t be able to reach us in here.” Tam frowned. “Puck and Thomas wouldn’t leave us without some kind of exit.” He hoped.
“Come on.” Jennet paced upriver, toward the orange glow cast against the shadowy sky.
“Don’t walk,” Tam said, flying up to her.
“Right. I forgot.”
She rose to join him and they sped over the twilight landscape, the river shining on their right. Just when he thought they’d have to try swimming after all, Tam spotted a dark span arching over the water. Slowly, they descended to the velvety grasses beside the bridge.
“I hope there’s not a troll underneath,” Jennet said.
“Or something worse. At least we still have our weapons.”
He and Jennet had arrived with their gear intact, though he wasn’t sure how much good his sword would do in the Twilight Kingdom. It might work fine, or it might turn to a feather or a strand of silk. He wasn’t taking anything for granted.
The bridge rose before them, made of some glossy, semi-translucent substance—obsidian or darkest amethyst. Tam set one foot on it, his boot making a clinking sound. He took another step, and sent out a small chime.
“So much for sneaking across,” Jennet said.
She joined him, her quieter footsteps making the structure hum. The sound of them walking over the bridge was like synth-trance music—all woo and thrum and random chiming.
“This will alert any creature for miles,” he said. “Did you notice how quiet it was, before?”
The Twilight Kingdom was a hushed place. Well, it had been. The noise of their passage filled the air as they reached the center of the bridge. The back of Tam’s neck prickled in warning, and he drew his sword.
“Halt!” a voice said.
A figure materialized on the span in front of them—a tall, glowing woman clad in shining robes made of spun metal. She had sharp cheekbones and eyes slit like a cat’s. Long, serrated wings rose from her back, and her pale hair fell, tangled and wild, past her waist. In her right hand she held a sword pulsing with purple light.
Tam shifted into battle stance, his shield appearing on his left arm, but the faerie didn’t rush to attack. Instead, she lifted her sword and regarded them, her eerie eyes unblinking.
“Who dares brave the paths of the Twilight Kingdom?” she asked, her voice sibilant and strange.
“Are you… an Elder Fey?” Jennet asked.
The fae
rie woman laughed, a shimmer of violet through the air. “Nay. The elders sleep deep within the heart of the mountain, in a place not made for such as I.” Her amusement faded as she studied them. “Yet I ask again, who are you?”
“We are adventurers from the mortal world,” Tam said. He knew better than to give the fey folk their names.
The faerie’s pale eyebrows rose. “The mortal realm? That is a place much removed. What great need brings you here?”
“Does it have to be a great need?” he asked.
“Of course.” Her words hissed though the still air. “There is no other way to reach our kingdom.”
“We’re here,” Jennet said, “because the Realm of Faerie is trying to open a gateway into our world, the human world. They’ve nearly succeeded at least once.”
The faerie nodded, her hair tumbling like silvery cobwebs about her face. “And why should I grant you passage over this bridge? The doings of the realms are of little concern to us.”
Tam tightened his grip on his sword.
“We’re supposed to wake the Elder Fey so they can restore the balance,” Jennet said, her voice tight. “Isn’t that important enough?”
The woman narrowed her catlike eyes. “It is best to let the Elder Fey slumber. To wake them is to court death.”
“It’s not as if we have a choice,” Tam said. “Are you going to let us across?”
The faerie woman tipped her sword and Tam tensed, moving his weight to the balls of his feet. He wasn’t going to strike the first blow, but he was ready.
“Tam,” Jennet said in a low voice. “I think she would let us by, if you don’t push it.”
“We don’t have time to hang around chatting on bridges,” he said.
The woman smiled, sharp and crystalline. “So eager for a fight, mortal? Very well, I will cross swords with you.”
“Right.” Raising his sword, Tam strode forward to face their opponent.
CHAPTER ELEVEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM
The faerie’s strike came faster than Tam could blink. He barely got his shield up in time as the air hummed with the aftermath of her blow. He stepped forward and swung hard, but she fluidly blocked his blade with her own. The force of it shocked him to his toes. The sound of their blades colliding rang out like a huge silver bell, vibrating the air with a noise he could almost see.
The faerie smiled, showing pointed teeth, and attacked again. Her blade blurred with the speed of her blows, and Tam stumbled back. He couldn’t attack in return—it was all he could do to defend himself.
“Tam!” Jennet cried as the faerie’s sword descended.
He tried to bring his shield up to deflect the sword. Too slow. Ears ringing, he watched the edge of the blade sweep toward him.
Just when he was sure it was all over, the blade bit into a length of wood mere inches from his face. Jennet’s mage staff. She stood defiantly between him and the faerie, staff held crosswise with the blade still embedded in the wood.
“Stop.” Jennet said.
The word seemed to expand, pressing outward like a sonic echo. Light flared around him and Jennet. The river below shivered.
The faerie wrenched her blade free and stepped back. Her cat eyes were wide, a look of faint surprise across her sharp, inhuman features. She stared at them a moment, motionless, then brought the flat of her sword to her left shoulder, the blade facing straight up, and bowed. Her shining hair floated about her, as though unaffected by gravity.
“I will battle you no more,” she said. “The Twilight Kingdom has found you worthy. You are granted passage.”
“What does that mean?” Jennet asked.
“It means you will not be hindered by those like myself, who guard the kingdom.”
“But we’ll be hindered in other ways?” Jennet asked.
The faerie shook her head. “I cannot answer that—but every journey has dangers. Your presence here is necessary. At least until your task is complete.”
The faerie began moving her wings in slow arcs. She rose, her metallic robes swirling around her, her hair fanning out like moonbeams. Lifting her sword, she pointed across the bridge to the dark land on the other side.
“Your way lies ahead, mortal travelers. Make haste.”
Tam slid his blade back into the scabbard, then followed Jennet down the bridge. Her footsteps set the bridge humming once more, his own strides chiming in cross-harmony. When they stepped onto the silky black grasses on the far side, he let out a long breath, grateful for the quiet.
The air shivered, filled with static, and letters shimmered in the air in front of them.
:xjk & Jenn333 rejkfjlk blta log outt:
“Did you see that?” Tam blinked, the glowing words etched across his eyes.
“Yes.” Jennet squinted. “I think Mr. Chon’s calling us back. Somehow, Puck is forwarding the message here.”
“We can’t leave yet—we’ve barely gotten anything done.”
“I know. But…” She pulled in a breath. “Look!”
From behind them, a line of silver light etched across the dimness. Tam turned to see the cat-eyed faerie at the apex of the bridge, her blade lifted high. The strand of brightness led from the tip of her sword to a clump of wavery trees a short distance away.
“Come on,” Tam said, hoping they could still fly after crossing the river.
At least his head felt better, eased somehow by the strange magic of the bridge. Relief flowed through him as he rose into the air at the mere thought of flying. Jennet joined him, and they sped toward the grove. There was a clearing in the trees, and in the center glowed a ring of pale-stalked mushrooms.
Their ride home.
He didn’t know how they’d get back to the Twilight Kingdom, but the message was clear. Time for him and Jennet to go.
Part of him was glad, too, although they hadn’t yet found the Elder Fey. The constant, dim light, the chiming bridge, the rasp of air in his lungs, all left him with an uneasy itch under his skin. Even the thrill of flying couldn’t make up for the growing discomfort.
“Do you think we have to transition back into the Realm, before we can get to our world?” Jennet asked, floating down at the edge of the faerie ring.
“One way to find out,” Tam said, taking her hand.
Jennet braced herself, but she still lost her breath as frigid and icy blackness enfolded them. The sick sensation of falling ripped through her, and she squeezed Tam’s hand, hard, although she couldn’t feel it.
She and Tam landed in a circle of moon-pale mushrooms, and she stumbled forward a step. A sky stitched with stars curved above the limbs of white-barked trees. Tam steadied her, and the tightness in her throat eased. They were back in the Realm—and Puck waited just outside the faerie ring.
“Hurry.” The sprite beckoned. “The Dark Queen has sensed your passage, and has set the Hunt on you.”
“Damn,” Tam said, tugging her out of the ring. “How far to the next portal?”
“Not far.” Puck turned and started down a dark, fern-edged pathway.
“I wish we could still fly,” Jennet said as they hurried down the path.
The dark night was split by an eerie howl that raised goosebumps on her arms. The Wild Hunt had caught their trail. She picked up her skirts and ran.
“Come!” Puck called. “Once you return to your world, you will be safe.”
He lifted his hand and summoned a ball of light to illuminate the way. A dim clearing lay ahead, pale dots of mushrooms circling the velvety moss.
High yips and the keening cry of pipes reached them, carried by a dark breeze. Fear clutched Jennet’s stomach.
“Farewell, Puck,” she gasped.
Without pausing, she leaped into the center of the faerie ring. Silver glinted at the corner of her eye as Tam followed.
Dizzying golden light enveloped her senses. The queasiness was welcome after the cold intensity of their passage to the Twilight Kingdom.
A moment later, she and Tam stood in the arched d
oorway set in Stronghold city’s walls. The sky was a cheerful blue overhead, and the sound of simulated birdsong filled the air.
“You ok?” Tam asked, grasping her shoulder. “You look pale.”
“I’m all right.” She studied his face. Dark smudges lay under his eyes. “This multiple-realm-jumping takes a toll. But at least we escaped the hunt.”
As Puck had promised, the fearsome hounds hadn’t followed them. How long would that last, though? The faeries had been weakened, but they drew their strength from interaction with the human world. Would her and Tam’s presence in the Realm make the fey folk strong enough to break through?
:Tam and Jennet, turn in your quests and log off immediately. You’re late. The rest of the team is already out:
The words scrolled across her vision.
“Do you see that?” she asked.
“Crap—we didn’t do the quests.” Tam shook his head. “Do you think they know where we’ve been?”
“I have no idea—but Tam, this is the proof we’ve been looking for! If VirtuMax saw us enter the Realm, just think how things would change.”
She gripped his arm, hope and excitement zinging through her.
“Jennet.” Tam’s voice was sober. “I’ve been thinking hard about this. What do you think will happen if we convince the company that other worlds really do exist? Worlds full of magic?”
“They’ll pull the game.” Even as she said the words, cold realization settled over her. “Won’t they?”
He folded his arms, his eyes desolate. “VirtuMax doesn’t care that their FullD put me in a coma, or that your hands got severely burned. They don’t even care that Thomas died using the sim equipment, except that they lost their lead developer. It’s all about money. And power.”
Jennet shivered and stared across the virtual lake. Tam was right. VirtuMax was focused on one thing only—releasing the game and making millions of dollars. Would they really shut down the project if they knew the truth?
No. They’d do everything they could to ally with the leaders of Feyland, then turn the magic to their own ends. She felt sick that she hadn’t realized it before.
