by Taylor Fray
“Zak! Morgan! My goodness!” Hanford yelled as he ran toward them, arms flailing. His footsteps echoed as he raced to them. Morgan lit up to see a familiar face.
“Hanford!” she greeted him.
“It’s a relief to see you,” Zak said.
“Have they treated you with uttermost respect and courtesy?” Hanford asked, throwing an angry glance at the Fairy Captain.
“Really, it’s been quite alright,” Zak said.
“The hell it’s been! We’re being accused of lewd acts or something ridiculous like that,” Morgan said.
“Alright, move it along! You can state your case to Her Majesty!” the Captain said.
The procession of prisoners and guards began moving again, Hanford now following beside. “Don’t you worry, all of this is goose nonsense as we say, a ball of yarn with a bucket of marbles on top!” Hanford said. They approached a set of giant sapphire doors with elaborate engravings on their surface. A butterfly was etched in the engraving, and below that was the relief of a man with a horses head, and beside him a bear eating honey, along with a river coursing between them. What these things meant, Morgan had no idea, but it seemed like the type of art back on earth that was a commemoration of some of the land’s history.
They stepped through those magnificent doors. Morgan’s mouth parted in wonder as she took in the sight of the Queen’s Hall. It was lined with giant pillars engraved with more beautiful artworks. On either side of the room were several attendants all dressed in amazing silks, dresses, trousers, frilly shirts, and the finest jewelry, so that they looked like old time aristocracy, their outfits a rainbow of celebration. They seemed to be of the same Fae race as the Fairy Captain, though here and there some of them were a different kind of Fae folk. One of them was a bipedal raccoon, who was dressed in the height of Victorian fashion. Another, who held a scroll in his hands, was a mole who had tiny spectacles on.
Several tiny green fairies hovered about. They were the same ones that had accompanied the Captain and the guards to the guesthouse—they were the accusers.
And then there was the Queen. She was a gorgeous woman, wearing a blue royal dress with enormous jewels that hung around her neck and shoulders. She was human sized, with her iridescent butterfly wings draped around her like they were part of her dress. Her features were long and languid; her hair was black, though here and there it shone with various colors like it was iridescent. As if it was below her dignity, the Fae Queen let her mole attendant address the commotion.
“Bring the prisoners forward,” the Mole said, his voice old and sophisticated.
The Fae Captain followed orders and proceeded toward the throne. The entire crowd hushed their chatter as the prisoners and their guards approached, their footsteps echoing in the hall.
“Your Majesty Queen Lyra, I present to you the two Wolf Bloods who have intruded upon your kingdom. I and my loyal soldiers apprehend them at great peril,” the Fairy Captain said, puffing her chest up. Queen Lyra seemed unimpressed.
“There wasn’t any peril! We came peacefully!” Morgan blurted out. The entire crowd gasped.
“How dare you address her Majesty in such a manner!” the Mole said. The Queen only studied the prisoners with a powerful, piercing gaze.
“I didn’t mean it for her—” Morgan tried to recover. “I meant it for that guard who’s accusing us.”
“Captain of the guards,” the Captain clarified. The crowd began murmuring and even chuckling a little at the captain’s self-promotion. They quickly hushed as the Queen raised her hand calling for silence. She was incredibly magnetic. Even a slight shift of her position, a small leaning back, or the tiniest tilt of her head, drew the entire crowd’s gasping attention.
“What are the charges against them?” the Queen said to the Mole, her voice melodious and powerful.
He unfurled his scroll. “The Fae folk of the Azure Lake accuse them of ‘lewd frolicking in the sacred lake past sundown’ as well as ‘attempt at murder via attempt at devouring.’” The crowd gasped at such a thing. Several of the tiny green fairies buzzed around in the air and chattered in agreement. The Queen shifted her position again, reclining her elbow on one of her throne’s armrests.
“I see,” the Queen said. “And what have you to say of these charges, Wolf Bloods?” Zak stepped forward, taking a breath as if he was about to say something, but Morgan interrupted him.
“It was me! I shifted into a wolf. Yes, that’s true.” The crowd erupted into jeers and outrage. They were quickly silenced by a glance from the Queen. Morgan worked up the courage to go on. “And yes it’s true that I ran through the woods and that I swam in the lake, but we didn’t hurt anyone. I did bite at a few squirrels, but only because it was fun to chase them for a moment—I’m new to being a werewolf. But I didn’t actually bite them, and we certainly didn’t try to devour anyone. Why would we? I had just had a huge feast at Hanford and Maggie’s house. Eating was the last thing on my mind.”
The Queen turned her gaze to Hanford. “Hanford, is this true?”
“Yes, yes it is your Majesty. And as oft I tell, Maggie’s cooking leave’s not one bit of room for anything else! You know this, your Majesty.”
The Queen weighed that answer for a moment, running a finger along her elegant jawline. “Very well. Not only do I find these two Wolf Bloods innocent, I find the charges against them ridiculous.” The tiny faeries chattered and moaned in their flute-like language. “Now you folk of the lake scatter off. And find some better way to entertain yourselves!” The cloud of buzzing fairies chattered in fright and flew out the large sapphire doors. The crowd burst into a commotion and laughter, but a wave of the Queen’s hand cut through their chatter like a sword.
“Now then,” the Queen turned again to the two werewolves and Hanford. “To the real reason why I summoned all of you. It is rare that Wolf Bloods from the outside world enter our borders. And I hear that there was some kind of attack on our Western gate. These are matters that are of great interest to me.” The Queen’s tone had turned serious. Hanford seemed nervous as he rubbed his hands together. He stepped forward to address the Queen.
“Your Majesty, yes you are correct as always. You see I would have told you of all this immediately but it all happened just last night. I did not want to disturb you with such a matter. The West Gate was attacked by a Black Hand sorcerer. His name is… Gestaffos, I believe. He and two of his ruffians were pursuing my friend Zak and his companion, Morgan. They were seeking refuge in your kingdom and so were at the gate when they were assaulted by this Gestaffos fellow. He burned the gate in an attempt to keep them from entering the safety of your kingdom. As soon as there was damage to the gate I traveled there immediately and summoned several golems and a squadron of Fae folk. By the Old Willow, I was glad that we were not forced to fight. The cowardly creatures saw that they were outnumbered and that it would cost them dearly to engage with any of your kingdom in battle. And so they fled into the night. I then asked Zak and his companion Morgan to stay as my guests for the night seeing as how Zak’s family are old friends of mine. And after all it is our custom, if allies seek refuge in our kingdom, that we protect them and see them as guests.”
The Queen considered all of this for a time. “Zak,” she said the name as if she were trying to remember something. “Why does your name and your countenance seem familiar to me? Are you not… Gustav’s son?”
“Your majesty,” Zak said as he stepped forward. “Yes. I am Zak, son of Gustav, of the 13 Moons. You might have seen me in passing, as I accompanied my father on a diplomatic trip he made here, many years ago.”
Morgan was taken back for a moment at how differently Zak spoke to the Queen, but she supposed it made sense since she was royalty. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to bow or what, so she just stood there, staring at the queen’s radiant glow, hoping that she was a generous monarch.
“And why, Zak of the 13 moons was this Black Hand sorcerer after you?”
“Pleas
e forgive us bringing such wicked creatures to your doorstep.” The room was so silent you could hear the rubbery sound of Zak’s leather jacket as he moved. “As you know, my clan and many others are at war with the Hand. And I have been waging my own vendetta against them for some time. Years ago, I fought Gestaffos, but spared his life… It was a mistake, I realize now.”
“They were seeking revenge then?”
“…They were trying to force me to serve them, your Majesty.” Zak swallowed. “I was only seeking safe passage for us back to Grey Home. Safe passage for Morgan.” Morgan was wide eyed as she gazed at the Queen, and could only manage a small wave. “She recently shifted for the first time, just days ago. She has no clan and has only known the human world her whole life. I was taking her to Grey Home that she might be cared for.” The Queen gazed at Morgan and Zak for a long time, a radiant light dancing in her eyes. Her fingers rubbed together, as if she considered something intricate.
“Your majesty,” Hanford interceded. “I can vouch Zak’s word is good. My family and I have known his for many years and he is of good light.”
The Queen gazed at Hanford, then back at Zak and Morgan. She had a look in her eyes that only a monarch whose every whim is granted could have. She stood now, balancing with both of her hands on her throne’s armrests. “I am glad that Hanford was able to help you avoid that confrontation.” The Queen’s voice turned accusing. “But it is not your word that I am concerned with, Zak of the 13 Moons. There was a reason why those Black Hand creatures were after you, wasn’t there? A reason why they would believe that you might turn and serve them?”
“Your Majesty, I…” Zak rambled.
“I know Gustav’s other name, Gustav the Red. I know what it means. You carry his blood, and you carry his curse. I know that a tragedy was visited upon you, but I also know how you responded…” Morgan went cold as she realized that the Queen knew of Zak’s disease, the frenzy that came over him at his wife’s death. “You murdered mortals in their world. You were imprisoned, then cast out from your clan as punishment. I know not the details of your crimes, nor do I wish to. But if I harbor you in my kingdom, I am harboring a criminal. I cannot do this, lest the 13 Moons Clan consider that I perhaps do not respect their laws. Or perhaps some other of the Fae Kingdoms will perceive me to be taking sides in the various Shifter struggles.”
Morgan could see Zak’s pride brimming as he tensed his jaw, but his words didn’t reveal it. “Yes, your majesty. I understand. I am thankful that you have given us harbor even one night. I will… leave immediately.” Morgan couldn’t take seeing Zak be treated like a criminal, to see him be humiliated like that.
“It’s not his fault!” Morgan shocked herself, but she couldn’t contain it. “His wife was murdered. He lost control. It’s a sickness he carries. He didn’t mean to hurt any of those people—he doesn’t want to hurt anyone now. He’s cured. They tortured him for three years to cure him! He’s cured—he’s cured now.”
“How dare you speak that way!” the mole’s voice rang out, along with the indignant shouts from the crowd. They were all quickly silenced by the Queen lifting a finger to the air.
“Morgan, it’s alright,” Zak said.
“I wish the matter were as simple as your speech,” the Queen said, holding Morgan with her gaze. “But both Zak and I know that is not the truth. Don’t we Zak?” The Queen walked down the steps of her throne, so that she was standing on the same ground now. “I am not entirely knowledgeable on Shifter magics, but I can certainly see that Red Rage, still inside you. It is like the embers of a fire that still burn under scorched wood. All those years, all those torturing spells they must have cast on you, only buried that beast in you, but they didn’t cleanse you of it.”
Zak trembled, his gaze downcast as he began seething with anger.
“But your father was cured. Many of your bloodline have been cured. Is there not a witch doctor, a thaumaturge, who has helped them all be free of this Red Rage? And could she not help you?”
“This witch you speak of,” Zak spat. “How can I trust her, when she claimed I had not inherited my father’s curse?” The Queen seemed taken back by that, a look that didn’t suit her at all. “I saw her, years ago, before I married. I wanted to be sure I would not burden a wife with such a thing.” Zak grit his teeth with bitter recollection. “This witch, Ivalia, she ran her tests and her spells, and said with complete confidence that I had no Red Rage, that I was completely free of it. So as I see it, she is partly responsible for what happened and it would be a waste of time and a humiliation to ask her for help.”
The Queen considered her thoughts, then spoke. “It has been by many years of bearing the weight of decisions, that I have discovered: sometimes a risk-laden choice, is better than none at all. I say this to you as one who wishes you and the rest of your clan well—seek that cure. If the thaumaturge is only partly skilled, it is better than nothing. After all, has she not had success with others?”
“Who’s to say? What if it is only a matter of time before my father or any of the others succumb to the Rage as well?”
The beginning of smile spread on The Queen’s face, as if entertained by Zak’s stubbornness. The Queen slowly walked back up the steps of her throne, her wrapped butterfly wings glimmering as she did. She sat and took her regal place once more. “I cannot order you, as you are not my subject, but I give you that counsel in goodwill. Nevertheless, as I have stated I cannot harbor you. And so, while I do not grudge you any ill will, I must ask that you leave our kingdom by sundown, and do not return unless you are ever truly cured of this great rage of yours.” The Queen turned to Morgan. “You may stay of course. I would not punish you for his crimes.”
Morgan shook her head. “I don’t want to stay anywhere that thinks being ill is a crime.”
“If I am sharp with my words it is because it is my responsibility to protect my subjects. You do not know the havoc that these past centuries have brought to all Fae. North and South, East and West, Light and Dark, we are all assailed by foreign powers and the turning of the ages. This is my first priority. But certainly, maiden, I regret that we could not be more gracious hosts to you. But please as a parting gift let me at least clothe you properly.
Morgan looked down and realized she was still wearing the nightgown she had found in the guesthouse. She looked back up at the Queen, and glowered. “I don’t want anything from you!”
The crowd gasped and began hollering in anger once more, only to be silenced by a queen who seemed nearly impossible to perturb.
“Please,” Zak whispered. “Don’t insult the Queen like that. She has her reasons for doing this. It’s not personal. It’s her protecting her people. Aren’t you the one that said it was rude not to accept a host’s gifts?”
Morgan looked into Zak’s eyes and saw that he really meant what he said. It was all the more touching, that he had remembered that small moment at Hanford’s. She took a deep breath, let her shoulders relax and nodded in agreement. “Alright, thanks. That’s… nice of you. Look even if you accept, how are you going to have clothes that—”
Before she could finish, the Queen snapped her fingers and a swirl of green magic enwrapped her. Just like that, as the magic vanished, it left Morgan clothed in jeans and a shirt with a jacket over it and a nice pair of brown boots. Morgan gazed down at herself noticing how well all the clothes fit. “How did…”
“I don’t keep up with mortal fashion very well, so that is what came to mind. We hope it is suitable for the rest of your journey.”
“Yes, thank you. It’s not exactly something you would see on Rodeo Drive, but it fits me perfectly.”
The Queen slowly nodded her head—she didn’t seem to understand the reference, and didn’t care to.
“I wish you both the best on your journey. I hope that perhaps some day we can meet again under more glad circumstances. And Zak, I hope indeed that you are cured of your curse.”
Zak nodded, his tussled hair hanging o
ver his gloomy eyes.
On the Fae side of the gate, the two trees had ivory colored bark, but they were the same two trees with intertwining branches. Zak and Hanford stood, arms on each other’s shoulders, bidding farewell.
“Forgive me again, Zak. I should have taken more care with you as our guests.”
“Absolutely not, Hanford. You likely saved our lives and you took us in with the best of intentions. Really it has all been great to see you and to be able to visit Managhen once more.”
“Very well, my friendship to you and your family as always.” Saying goodbye, Hanford gave a big bear hug to Morgan. He practically lifted her off the ground with his big burly arms. She gave him a sincere thanks and he nodded with his wide, hairy grin. “Oh, you two are forgetting one last thing. How in the world are you two going to get to Grey Home without the help of these here gnomes?” Hanford tapped his staff on the ground. Within moments a trail of tiny men with big beards and metal helmets, pickaxes and shovels began milling about. Their eyes were narrow slits and their skin seemed claylike.
“Oh that’s right! Your car,” Morgan said.
Zak grinned as he looked down to the gnomes all filing in line ready to proceed. “I don’t mean to give them much trouble.”
“Not even a pint! These Fae folk live for work! They love labor like we normal folk hate it. It is their true joy.” With that, Hanford tapped the two trees and they began glowing with green magic again. The shining doorway opened. With a last wave goodbye they both stepped through. Once again a rush of energy poured down on them and they emerged on the other side, followed closely by a trail of worker gnomes.
As soon as they had walked up the path the gnomes made quick work of digging up Zak’s car. They seemed like ants that were put on fast-forward as they chiseled and dug, and left Zak’s car just as he had left it one night ago. They marched back as silently as they had come.
