Feyland: The Complete Trilogy

by Anthea Sharp

  It was a quick swoop over to the dark-leaved mass of foliage. As they got closer, Jennet saw dark berries shining amid the sharp-edged leaves. Long thorns studded the branches.

  There was no boat drawn up on the shore.

  “Berries,” Tam said, eyeing the bushes. “Remember the banshee quest?”

  “You think picking the berries will call some kind of creature?”

  From the poisonous look of the fruit, whatever came couldn’t be good.

  Before she could stop him, Tam reached into the thicket and plucked a single berry. Nothing happened—no crash of thunder, no enraged faerie demanding they stop stealing her fruit.

  “Where do I put this?” he asked, holding the shiny orb between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Let me try something.”

  She closed her eyes. Basket, she thought, imagining the woven sides, the curved handle. In the Realm, they could summon objects with a thought. She opened her eyes. No basket.

  “That would have been too easy,” Tam said. “If we could summon a berry container, we could summon a boat.”

  “I’m not sure I’d trust an imagined boat to carry us safely over that.” She gestured to the lake.

  The surface moved strangely, as though made of liquid metal—mercury, instead of water. She didn’t want that stuff touching her.

  “Then we keep picking.” Tam dropped the berry into his cupped hand.

  Jennet reached into the bush. Her fingers closed over the smooth surface of a berry, oddly hard and slick to her touch. It wouldn’t come loose. She tugged, and her hand slipped. A thorn needled into the pad of her thumb.

  “Ow!” She pulled her hand free. A drop of blood welled on her thumb, dark and shining.

  “Don’t let it—“

  Tam moved to her side, too late. The drop fell. The instant it hit the ground, a tremble went through the land. The lake shivered, and a high, distant drone cut the air, setting her teeth on edge.

  “That was bad,” she said, pressing her finger hard against her thumb to keep any more blood from dripping.

  “I think so.”

  The trembling ceased, the lake stilled, and silence fell.

  The skin between Jennet’s shoulder blades prickled. “I think we’re being watched.”

  “Me, too. But by what?” Tam set his hand to his sword and pivoted, scanning the shore.

  She couldn’t see anything but the long silver lake, the jagged, orange-lit mountains, the dim purple air. For a long minute, they stood still, breathing. Waiting. Nothing happened.

  “My turn again,” Tam said.

  “Careful,” she said in a low voice. “Those thorns are sharp.”

  He slid his fingers between the dangerous branches and grabbed for another berry, then winced and let out a hiss of pain.

  “Too sharp.” He pulled his hand out of the bush

  Jennet grasped his hand and frowned at the long scratch marring his skin. It looked black in the eerie light.

  “I’m ok,” he said, reaching for the bush again. “I didn’t even get a berry that time.”

  The scratch sparkled and, quick as thought, a drop of his blood rolled off his hand and plunged to the grass.

  “Dammit,” he said.

  This time, the ground shook. Waves lapped the lakeshore, and the air buzzed with a clashing chord, like two discordant voices shrieking into the dimness. Jennet gripped her mage-staff tightly, the wood solid under her grasp. Her ribs tightened and her lungs burned from the abrasive air.

  Still holding the single berry in his cupped palm, Tam drew his sword.

  “Give me the berry,” Jennet said.

  She plucked the fruit from his hand. As she picked it up, the berry suddenly softened. Her fingers crushed the soft flesh and a single drop of juice plummeted, shining like an obsidian tear.

  The clamor in the air smoothed into a distant fanfare of brassy trumpets, tuneful and bright. The ground gave a last twitch beneath their feet, then subsided. The lake, however, frothed wildly, silver waves whirling in a vortex at the center.

  “Look,” Jennet said, her voice small in her throat.

  Something was rising from the water—a pale prow, the long line of a mast. A single sail billowed, shimmering, as a boat rose from the middle of the lake. In the center, a shining figure wearing a hooded robe woven from mist and starlight steered the boat. Right toward them.

  “I think our ride’s here,” Tam said.

  She caught his hand, tangling their fingers together.

  The boat drew up to shore, the side angled toward the dark velvet grass where they stood, and the figure raised its head. All was shadow within the confines of its hood.

  “Blood and need calls me forth,” it said in a hollow voice. “Board, and I shall bear you across the water.”

  Jennet shivered. Half-remembered myths of black rivers and death flitted through her mind. Still, what choice did they have? They were far removed from the mortal world.

  “Do you promise to keep us safe?” Tam asked.

  “Put away your sword, mortal. I make no promises, but you shall be granted safe passage to the far shore.”

  Tam slid his sword into the scabbard, metal hissing on metal. He squeezed Jennet’s hand, and together they stepped onto the pale deck. The boat remained eerily still as they boarded—no dip and shift as the boat took their weight.

  In unspoken accord, they moved to the center where the mast stood, slender and gleaming. The entire boat looked fragile. The figure gestured, and the boat glided smoothly away from shore.

  Jennet leaned closer to Tam. “I hope it doesn’t decide to dump us overboard halfway across the lake.”

  “I think we’re ok. The blood and need and all that.”

  Unconvinced, she watched the shore recede. Behind them, their wake was a vee of silver spreading across the water. Wind ruffled her hair—they were going fast, although the craft remained steady as a grav-car.

  When they passed the midpoint of the lake, the tension binding her ribs eased. Tam squeezed her hand again. There was something about the silent figure and eerie water-lit air that made her reluctant to speak. As if words would break whatever spell was keeping them safe.

  Sooner than she would have imagined, the rough crags of the mountains blocked half the sky. Orange light echoed off the metallic surface of the lake. The boat entered the shadow of the peaks, and cold crept through Jennet’s bones.

  “Our journey is ended,” the hooded figure said as the boat slid up against land. “This way will not be open to you again. Farewell.”

  Tam jumped to shore and reached for Jennet, steadying her as she stepped across. On this side of the lake the grasses were not black velvet, but singed silk, crackling under her feet. The air dried her tongue with an acrid tang.

  Without another word, the hooded figure turned the boat. It sped, a pale blur, back toward the center of the lake. Partway there, the craft began to submerge, the water licking up over the deck, swirling about the figure’s robes. A heartbeat later, only the tip of the mast was visible—and then it was gone. A single ripple spread out, viscous, from the middle of the lake.

  Jennet shivered and eyed the crags rising before them. The grasses gave way almost immediately to dark, volcanic-looking rock. She could see no path, but in there, somewhere, were the Elder Fey. She took a step, the rock gritty beneath her feet.

  “Wait,” a thin, familiar voice said.

  “Puck?” She squinted through the dim light, seeing nothing but flat black grasses and jagged shadows.

  “There,” Tam said, pointing.

  Puck stood a few feet away. A dim, translucent version of him, anyway.

  “You must return posthaste,” the sprite said. “Come this way. A ring awaits.”

  “How do we know you’re the real Puck?” Tam asked, his eyes narrowed.

  Jennet was glad he asked. It was creepy seeing a ghostly figure in place of the merry sprite she was accustomed to.

  “Foolishness.” Puck shook his
head. “Your brother, the Bug, languishes in the Dark Court, and you want to play at riddles with me?”

  “Good enough.” Tam strode forward.

  “But…” Jennet hung back. They were close to the Elder Fey, she could feel it, the knowledge burning along her skin. “We can’t leave now. We’re almost done.”

  “It is past time for your return to the mortal world,” Puck said. “We cannot hide your absence any longer. Your mortal bodies are in danger of slipping into the sleep-state.”

  “No way are we going into a coma over this.” Tam caught her hand. “If we did, who would wake the Elder Fey and save my brother?”

  “But…” They were so close.

  “Trust me. We’ll get another chance. Right, Puck?”

  The ghostly figure tipped his head. “One last chance, aye. But come now, ere the risk grows too great.”

  They followed the wispy figure down the shoreline to where a thin grove of trees stood. Within it was the usual circle of pale-stalked mushrooms shedding their purplish light. Puck leaped into the middle of the faerie ring, and winked out.

  Tam squeezed her fingers. “We’ll wake the Elder Fey. Third time’s the charm, right?”

  She sent a wary glance behind her, to the jagged mountains rising against the orange-lit sky. Then why did she feel like they weren’t going to have that chance?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - THE TWILIGHT KINGDOM

  The Twilight Kingdom disappeared the moment Tam stepped within the circle of glowing mushrooms, and icy cold seized his bones. Coughing from the frigid air slicing his lungs, Tam landed in the center of another ring, Jennet beside him. At least this time they’d both managed to stay on their feet.

  “Hurry,” Puck said, dancing just outside the boundary of eerie mushrooms. “Ere the hounds catch your scent once again.”

  Tam was glad the Wild Hunt wasn’t waiting this time as their welcoming committee.

  Jennet swayed, and he caught her elbow.

  “You alright?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” She blinked and straightened her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

  White-barked trees rose above them as they hurried down the path behind Puck. The stars were pinpricks of light in an impossibly dark sky.

  “Here,” Puck said, stepping into another clearing with the usual white-dotted mushrooms in the center. “I shall see you anon.”

  “What about the quest in the beta game?” Tam asked.

  “All is in readiness for your return,” the sprite said. “As before, the items you need will be provided to you.”

  “But we have no idea what we’re supposed to have been doing,” Jennet said.

  Tam thought back to accepting the quest in-game. It felt like a hundred years ago.

  “We’re supposed to be choosing something from the castle’s treasury,” he said. “Just describe a generic treasure room, Jennet. You know, piles of gold, shiny weapons. Think like a game designer.”

  “Enough chatter,” Puck said. “Go.”

  A long, wavering wail curled through the sky. It wasn’t the howl of the Hunt, but the Unseelie Court boasted plenty of other nasties.

  Tam stepped into the center of the faerie ring with Jennet. Giddy golden light swirled over his senses and they tumbled into the clearing in the hedge outside Stronghold Castle. On the grass surrounding them a faint echo of white-spotted mushrooms faded.

  Jennet pushed her hair out of her face. “Back to the princess?”

  “With the gifts we chose out of the royal treasury.” Tam checked his inventory. A small silver box had been added to his items. “I guess I got a box. A new sword would have been nice.”

  “Boys.” Jennet shook her head. “Oh, sweet. I got a box, too. And there were probably piles of jewels lying around the treasure room.”

  Her hand went to her throat, as if feeling an imagined necklace there.

  “Girls.” Tam gave her a half-smile, then pushed his way out of the hedge. He knew she was rolling her eyes at him, behind his back.

  Their footsteps crunched on the gravel of the empty pathway as he and Jennet headed to the green garden of Princess Paloma. As before, the pastel ladies-in-waiting sat on benches surrounding the white-garbed princess. Soft music played in the background, and the princess watched them approach with her unblinking violet gaze.

  “Your highness.” Tam swept her a bow. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jennet curtsey.

  “Brave adventurers,” Princess Paloma said. “Let me view the rewards you chose from my treasury. What have you claimed, Knight?”

  She held out her hands, and a rectangular silver box about four inches long appeared. Tam flicked through his inventory. Yep, she’d taken it. He raised an eyebrow at Jennet.

  “I have gold and arms aplenty, shining in splendor,” the princess said, “yet you selected something so simple. Shall I open it?”

  Tam shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  The princess lifted the lid, and her ladies gasped as brilliant light flooded the garden.

  “Ah,” Princess Paloma said. “One of the most powerful items in my treasury. The Talisman of Aroka.”

  She reached into the box and drew out the source of the brightness—a teardrop-shaped jewel suspended on a thick silver chain. Maybe the box wasn’t such a dud after all.

  “What does it do?” Tam asked.

  “When invoked, it lends the wearer three times his normal strength and heals him of mortal wounds. Wear it well, brave Knight.”

  Princess Paloma set the box aside and stood on tiptoe to lift the chain over Tam’s head. The talisman slipped down to nestle under his armor, its light fading. Tam blinked, glowing afterimages of teardrop-shaped gems burning against his lids.

  “Lady Spellcaster,” the princess said, turning to Jennet. “Let us see what reward you have brought from my treasury.”

  Again, she held out her hands, and again a plain silver box appeared. Princess Paloma nodded and lifted the lid. Once more, silver radiance streamed out of the box and the ladies-in-waiting stirred with excitement. The princess reached into the box and drew out a flat disc of milky stone that seemed lit from within. It, too, was strung on a silver chain. Princess Paloma held it up.

  “Another wise choice,” she said. “The Talisman of Shejin. When invoked, this talisman lends the wearer three times their magical power, and heals them of mortal wounds.”

  The princess placed the chain over Jennet’s head. The glowing disc slipped beneath her robes and the light dimmed once more. A soft ding filled the air—the signal their quest was complete.

  “You have chosen worthy items,” Princess Paloma said. “Guard them well. The talismans can be invoked but once, so take care to use them only at your time of greatest need.”

  :Beta team, log out in five minutes:

  The message scrolled across the lush green grass of the princess’s garden.

  “Thank you, your highness,” Jennet said, curtseying to the princess.

  Tam bowed. Princess Paloma waved her hand in dismissal and turned back to her gaggle of pastel-clad ladies. Clearly he and Jennet were done here. He jerked his head toward the tall columns marking the edge of the garden. Eyes full of questions, Jennet followed.

  When the two of them reached the courtyard with its fountain, Tam halted beside the splashing water. Who knew if VirtuMax could listen in to their conversations?

  “At least we’re not late, this time,” Jennet said in a low voice.

  “Yeah.” Tam fingered the silver chain around his neck. “And apparently we managed to do a good job with the quest.”

  “I still wish we’d been able to finish up in… you know where. Do you think we were really in danger—physically, I mean?”

  “I do. Much as I distrust the faeries, I don’t think Puck has a reason to lie. Not about this.”

  “At some point, we’re going to be discovered.” Worry shadowed her light-blue eyes.

  “How? VirtuMax has no way of monitoring us once we step through the rings.”

&n
bsp; She shifted uncomfortably. “This ‘vid-feed malfunction’ trick of Puck’s can’t work forever. Maybe it’s time to try something different.”

  Something hovered behind her eyes that he didn’t like the look of. Jennet’s plans usually meant putting herself in serious danger.

  :Beta team, log out:

  “We’ll talk later.” She took a deep breath. “See you out there.”

  Tam still couldn’t get used to how easy it was to exit the new Feyland. No searching for a faerie ring, no queasiness. Just a quick selection of the X, and he was out. He pulled his gloves off, then glanced down the row at the rest of the team. Zeg and Jennet’s dad were still geared up, and Mr. Chon stalked over to stand in front of their sim chairs.

  “Mr. Carter, Mr. Fanalua, can you hear me?” He fiddled with his mic and headset. “Time to exit the game.”

  “One sec.” Zeg’s voice came from the speakers in Tam’s helmet. “We’re finishing up a fight, then we need to go turn in.”

  Lassiter rose from his chair at the end of the row. “Seriously? We finished our quest ages ago and were just exploring.”

  “Hey,” Jennet said. “Monk and Priest are not the most deadly combo, you know.”

  “No doubt.” Lassiter laughed. “Death by slow erosion. No wonder they’re still in battle.”

  Spark pushed back a strand of her bright hair. “Maybe you should join them, Roy. It wouldn’t hurt to switch the teams up a little.”

  Lassiter looked like he’d bitten into something sour.

  “We will be reconfiguring the small groups,” Mr. Chon said. “Tomorrow, when we assemble, I’ll assign new questing partners.”

  Jennet shot Tam a wide-eyed look. “But—”

  “Miss Carter.” The team leader’s voice was cool. “We lost signal from you and Tam again today. The techs think there’s a short in your systems… possibly because they’re situated next to one another. Tomorrow, we’ll be switching everything up.”

  Damn. Tam crossed his arms. How was Puck going to get them out of this one? Jennet was right—the sprite couldn’t keep messing with the FullD systems.

  “Whew!” Down the line, Jennet’s dad pulled off his helmet. “Good thing Zeg’s a top-notch healer. We barely beat that last ogre.”