Muriel looked up from her gloomy contemplation of the path in front of her feet, and growled, “Not too far, now.” Glancing sideways at the small, black-haired girl, she added, “I wouldn’t be in such a hurry, though…”
Sara sighed. After leaving the hag’s glamour, the company of soldiers fell into a funk of depression. The unicorn had fallen back, mortally offended by the rude handing of its horn by the pixie pinchers, and seemed inclined to leave the rest of the company to its fate. Even William, the minstrel, seemed disinclined to play his fiddle, and huddled miserably in his sodden cloak, limping in painful silence.
The giants had taken up their posts again, but Fruman seemed to be more morose than usual, constantly stopping and holding his massive hand down in a signal of danger ahead.
Peat, Pollo’s older brother, was haranguing his younger sibling and reached out, yet again, to give Pollo’s back a painful pinch.
“Knock it off, Peat!” Nate barked.
That was another thing…ever since their misadventure in the Red Cap’s valley, Nate had not spoken a word to Sara. He walked with the dwarves now, glaring about suspiciously, and fingering the hilt of his sword. He had been keeping an eye on Peat, who seemed inclined toward cruelty. Often, over the last few weeks in Sylvan’s village, Nate saw the sprite swat at lone pixies, pull a cat’s tail, or pick on other, smaller sprites. He was sick of it.
Stopping, he snarled, “The unicorn is leaving, Peat. Maybe you would like to catch a ride back home?”
William grinned and added, “I have been wanting to say something to that little fart for years.”
Peat flushed read, and glared up at the young man. He was very big and strong for a sprite but he was no genius. He tried to think of a scathing retort, but the best he could come up with was, “No, I’m here to watch over my brother!”
Nate rolled his eyes. “Well, how about doing your job, instead of being a big bully!”
Peat dropped his gaze in humiliation, and Hissaphat grinned. Stepping close to Pollo he said, “Will you ride, young sprite?”
Pollo, both shocked and grateful nodded, and hopped on Hiss’ back.
Sara watched the exchange with a thrill of pride. Gone now, was the sweet but geeky guy she had met and healed at the high school. His long brown hair was pulled into a ponytail, and his lips were set in determination. He acted like a young prince, or a knight, now that the company marched.
She had no way of knowing that Nate wanted nothing more than to walk by her side, and hold her in his arms. Gritting his teeth against the impulse, Nate glared ahead. Pollo and Fang were right, of course. He had been trained to help keep everyone safe, but at the first sign of trouble, he walked right into the hag’s trap like a lamb to slaughter.
Well, never again! He swore silently. Nate had lagged behind a bit when he spoke to Peat, and he picked up speed to join the dwarves when Fruman stopped and gestured for everyone to get down and hide. The silent warning rippled through their ranks like a sudden breeze and Muriel’s army crouched down in the weeds and stunted trees.
Everyone heard the sounds of clashing metal, grunts of pain, and cries of agony. Creeping closer and peering through the tree line and down into a field, they saw that a battle was underway.
Chloe heard her friend Rondel gasp, and felt his sister shudder. She had joined the elves when Muriel became crabby and snappish. Now, she felt their sorrow, as if it were her own when she saw that elves were fighting a pitched battle in the field below.
“It’s not supposed to be like this,” Rondel murmured. “We play at war, yes, but never to the death. This is madness!” His large purple eyes swam with tears and he clasped Rowena’s hand in his as they watched the abomination-taking place below them. The two tall, willowy elves with their finely drawn features, slashing brows, and large, pointed ears wept as their brothers and sisters fought and died in the fields below.
Chloe did not know who was who, but it was easy to see who was winning. Elves fought one another with long, shining blades of silver, but some of the fighter’s swords seemed to be dipped in a noxious green, swirling paint. The green swords flashed and slashed, etching emerald tracers in the air. Where they struck the victim simply, fell down dead. In addition, the green elves had help. Mottled grayish-green serpents flew through the air. They were like flying snakes with huge fang-filled maws that opened as they struck, biting and decapitating their prey.
The field was soaked and slippery with red and green blood… mostly red, and Chloe turned away, nauseous with fear. Nate was lying next to her, watching as well, and he reached for her hand in comfort.
“Come,” Muriel, hissed. “We must leave before we are spotted.”
Everyone crawled backward, into the sheltering trees. Then they paused, wondering how to get past the battling elves without being seen. Hissaphat had anticipated the problem, and while the others spied upon the elven skirmish, he and his soldiers took a fork in the path. It was a decent path with only a few trees in the way and maybe only a league, or two, out of their way to the Unseelie court.
He told the others his plans and they quickly agreed. The sounds of battle were coming closer now and no one wanted to be caught up in that deadly conflict, or have their heads lopped off by those hideous flying snakes.
The companions stepped off the widely used trail and into a green, mossy forest. The sound of the elven war vanished and a silence so profound it was almost deafening filled their ears. Sara stared about as a feeling both repulsive and compelling seized her senses.
“We are in Hestia’s woods, I believe,” Muriel whispered. “Take great care now, girl.”
Sara gulped as she heard a titter of laughter somewhere to her left. The dwarves and elves seemed to understand the gravity of their sudden situation. Although each and every one of them caressed the hilts and handles of their bows and blades, none dared to draw raw metal in this faery wood.
Hearing a familiar clop of hoof-steps, Sara turned around and saw that the unicorn had joined them once again. It bared its teeth in a grin and murmured, “This is my home, lady, and where I draw my strength.” Muriel rolled her yellow eyes in disgust, but the unicorn, whose name was Tandie, just nickered and swished its tail.
William pulled his violin out from under his cloak, and started to play a soft, haunting melody. His eyes seemed to look within, as if the music he sought to placate this strange wood with was buried and almost forgotten.
Sara stared into the murky green light of Hestia’s forest and saw many strange and mysterious things hiding in the trees, shrubs, fluttering leaves, and shadowed undergrowth. A hideous little creature with one eye peering north, and the other eye staring south regarded them from a fallen tree trunk. He smoked a long pipe and his dusky red skin seemed to shimmer and warp over his deformed body like a sack of live mice.
Looking up, Sara saw hobs, and Grigs, and what she thought was an Owling Byrrd. Remembering her lessons, Sara knew that Owling Byrrds were avian caretakers and were known to arrange accidents for fae and human hunters who made the mistake of harming a bird under their care.
It looked a little like an owl, but had long, wavering antennae and splayed legs, like a frog. It caught Sara’s eyes and blinked solemnly. Looking away with her heart in her throat, Sara peered to her right and saw a group of very large rodents sitting down at a rough-hewn table. They stood up, watching as Muriel’s army bowed politely and doffed their hats.
“Greetings, Sir Wottle,” Muriel called out. “Please pardon our intrusion.” The rat-like creature twitched its whiskers and sat back down.
Sara could only hope that these rat things would pardon them, for they were as large as mastiffs, with shiny square teeth and long, sharp claws. Sara grinned, thinking that she must be getting used to this land, because it just now dawned on her that all of the rats were dressed very formally, and seemed to be sitting down to high tea, hats and all.
Chloe had stopped, with Rondel and Rowena, and waited for Sara to catch up. Her eyes were
wide as she said, “Wow! Do you hear that, Sara?”
At first, Sara frowned in consternation, and then her ears opened with a pop. Suddenly, she heard the sound of music; a swelling orchestra of singing, flutes, drums, and pipes. She heard the noise of a thousand voices, and thrilled to the gong of a million bells. William’s strings harmonized perfectly with the cacophony, as if he had known the song all along.
Her mouth dropped open in awe, and then the whole army came to a stop. Someone or something blocked their path. Moving forward so she could see, Sara felt a gentle hand pull her back. “Be careful, Sara. Stand here by me, okay?”
She blushed… it was Nate, standing protectively by her side. Sara had actually concluded that he was mad at her for what happened back in the magical but deadly valley. She did not blame him; really, they were both almost killed because of her stupid desire to find the source of the hag’s music. It did make her feel sad though. Sara realized she was crushing on Nate bad, and found herself hoping that when this trip to faery land was all over, they might start a relationship.
To see Nate standing slightly in front of her with his left arm shielding her body, and his right hand poised over his sword gave Sara hope that he did care, after all. She stared ahead and saw a young man dressed in jester’s clothes sitting cross-legged on a large boulder that sat squarely in the middle of the path. He was beautiful, in a fierce way, with a tangle of red curls flowing down his back and over one eye.
His clothes were striped red and green, and he wore a hat with many horns. Strangely, a large toad squatted amongst the folds of the man’s hat and it grinned, “So, Muriel’s army is on the march.”
The toad was as brown as mud and its green eyes glowed when the man answered, “It would appear so, and a rather motley bunch, to boot.”
The toads wide, rubbery mouth gaped open and its long tongue fell out and caressed the young man’s nose for a moment. Then it turned its attention upward and with a flick, the toads tongue grabbed an insect out of the air and darted back into its mouth.
Sara shuddered in revulsion, but Muriel, who did not seem easily intimidated, knelt on the ground, in fealty. After a moment, as if startled into sudden clarity, the elves, sprites and dwarves fell to their knees as well. Even the giants bowed low, and Sara and her friends followed suit, as the young man and his toad grinned. Only Tandie approached, golden horn glowing and lowered in submission. The man caressed the unicorn’s cheeks, smiling fondly.
“We ask your forgiveness, mighty queen for trespassing in your woods.” Muriel whispered with a humility Sara had never heard before in her teacher’s voice. Glancing at the boy and his toad in surprise, Sara saw something shimmer in the air where they sat, and then covered her eyes, gasping in awe.
The most beautiful woman she had ever seen now stood on the path. Her hair fell to the ground in golden waves and her swirling rainbow eyes studied the creatures in front of her critically. She glowed like a candle flame and her dress was studded with moon- beam flashes of light so bright it hurt the eyes.
“Do not look at her, you stupid girl!” Muriel whispered frantically and Sara dropped her gaze in fear.
Hestia was silent for a moment as she took stock of the little army at her feet, and then she sighed. They are not much, but they will have to do, she decided.
“Please arise, my friends. I have much to show you and very little time.” Hestia pulled a small, round globe out of the folds of her dress.
Chapter 15
“Please, follow me,” she said, and walked into the green gloom. Muriel and her little army followed. Sara saw many animals and fae creatures turn and join the procession. There were huge antlered stags, and sylphs, small rabbits and Grigs, foxes, fauns, and many more.
After a few minutes, they came to a clearing that glittered in the amber light of diffused sunlight. A narrow river dissected the grassy dell and a number of beautiful green women sat on large boulders in the water and watched their approach. Nate eyed the creatures nervously, and Muriel drawled, “These are my sisters, young man… water nymphs. They are very old and wise, unlike Nixies,” she paused, adding, “as you might have known had you paid more attention to your lessons.”
Nate blushed, but Pollo, who rode on Tandie’s back, piped, “He knows better now, Auntie, and will not let himself be enchanted again.”
Muriel nodded, remaining silent. Nate was a fine young man who had surpassed Fang’s expectations, and, even now, seemed willing to sacrifice himself in order to keep his companions safe. “Forgive my harsh tongue, young man. It has given me more than my fair share of trouble over the years,” she murmured.
Nate smiled his forgiveness, and then came to a halt as Hestia walked up to a stone oven and placed the little globe inside the glowing embers. Turning around to face her audience, she said, “Please make yourselves, comfortable. This will take a few moments.”
The people, animals and faeries sat down and waited, as Hestia made herself comfortable on a throne made of an old tree trunk. The wood was dark with age and gleamed like satin in the sunlight. The queen addressed them, her voice ringing like a bell.
“Normally, I do not concern myself with the fate of fae or mankind. My job is, and always has been, the care of forests, both here and in the land of men. I have been known, in the past, to care for the hearth and homes of human women, but they have turned away from my ministrations now, and seek my council no more.”
She looked down and tears started to flow from her beautiful kaleidoscope eyes. “I enjoyed my duties, and the women I served, but those were simpler times.” Her tears dried, and her eyes narrowed with anger. “Now, mankind has forsaken me in his quest for knowledge. Worse, he has forsaken the mother and destroys the very planet that grants him life!” The queen’s voice had risen with anger, and her last words rang out in a shout.
“Mankind levels our forests and digs deep holes in the ground. They use terrible poisons to manipulate their crops, never realizing the toll their potions take on the soil. They burn the land and pollute the air!” She paused, gazing at those who listened and stirred uneasily.
“I confess that I have been angry,” she continued, softly. “I have looked for a way to stop the humans from annihilating our world, but to no avail. So…” she gulped, “I attended the meeting in Timaron’s court, and voted to declare war on human beings.”
Sara and her friends gasped, and William whispered, “Bummer…”
Hestia saw the effect her words had on the people and creatures who heard them, and she smiled with sadness. “I regret that now, of course. I was filled with jealousy, and rage. I thought that, somehow, the Fae could teach humans a lesson they would not soon forget, and that our teachings might be remembered once again.”
She shook her head, and her long golden tresses shimmered in the sunlight. “I was wrong, and worse- I was shortsighted. In my haste, I forgot that the Seelie and the Unseelie would be at risk as well as human beings. Now I wish to make amends.”
The queen reached into the glowing embers and pulled the little stone globe out of the flames. Sara’s eyes bulged with shock, but William whispered, “It’s cool, Sara. I’ve seen her do this before.”
Hestia held the glowing stone ball up in the air and then fell back on her throne with a sigh. The globe stayed suspended in mid-air and then it lit up like a light bulb… the brightest light bulb ever created.
The teens covered their eyes against the glare, although most of the others kept their sight low, as if they had been through this drill before and knew what to expect. After a moment, or two, the brilliance subsided somewhat, and Sara peered through her fingers to see that the globe had fallen back in to Hestia’s hands. In its place was a sort of transparent screen. Images played across it like the large viewing screen at a drive-in theater. Sara dropped her hands, stared, and started to quiver with fear.
“I have tried to determine the safest route for you, but the powers of darkness are running rampant now, and seek to obscure my vision.
There are three paths you can take to reach the Unseelie court… this is the one, I think, you should follow.”
The pictures blended one into the other like some demented all-night horror show extravaganza. Sara saw a lake of fire and the long pointed tail of some sort of beast as it plunged into the deep. She saw long pupa hanging by silken threads, in a shadowed corner of a dusty cavern.
She saw herself and her companions as they crept through a tunnel, and watched as long, grasping fingers of darkness seized them and carried them away. She watched as large, hairy creatures with deep-set eyes and long pointed teeth jumped into their midst, brandishing heavy clubs and pointed wooden spears.
“This is the good path?” Nate breathed, and Hestia snapped, “Would you care for the alternative, human?” He shook his head, but it was too late. With a snap of Hestia’s fingers the terrible pictures changed into something so horrid, so evil, Sara knew that, however long she lived, she would never forget the images that seemed to burn themselves into her brain.
She saw a beautiful chamber, filled with gold plate, silver flatware and crystal glasses. She watched as tiny faeries and tall, regal elves dined, danced… kissed, and then she held her breath as wide double doors flew open and a hoard of dark and hideous creatures spilled through the opening like seawater over a levee. She watched as the creatures of darkness bit, tore, and slashed their way through tender flesh. She moaned as the silver and the gold turned red with spilled blood.
Nate turned away as another picture glimmered in mid-air. Hobgoblins and trolls were torturing a battalion of Seelie elves. Rondel and his sister wept as goblins knives and the trolls clubs pounded, prodded, pinched, cut, and finally finished their brethren.
Pollo wailed in fear as another image took form. Yellow Blurkers held the bodies of sprite’s and pixies alike, while hinkey-punks rubbed their webbed hands together in maniacal glee, and pulled the wings off their prey. Both of these malicious faeries were known to trick and torment human beings, but to see them torturing fellow faeries was an abomination no one there could bear.
The War of Odds Page 9
