Revary

by Abigail Linhardt

  Perhaps the queen should know.

  “To Calimorden?” the elf asked.

  Galis shook his head hopelessly. “My kind is not welcome there. None of us are!”

  Folkvar replaced his bow on his back and strode a few steps toward the human kingdom. “I say we go. When we explain, the queen will grant us safety and an audience.” His eyes flickered for a moment to the oracle and then up again to the distant castle.

  Galis was not convinced and neither was the wary elf, but they had no choice left. The queen should know of her son’s death and perhaps she could help them bring the earthling to their world one more time so they could tell of the discoveries they’d made. It was with grudging hearts and fear that the norcan, the under elf, and the barbarian treaded the path to the human city and entered its walls.

  The only reason the guards let the trio near the castle was because they said they had news of the prince and Umbra. All three were shackled and chained. Only then were they lead to the queen’s throne room. Galis was angry at this, but not nearly as much as Folkvar.

  Queen Zephyr looked with mild horror at the strange group before her.

  “Back again, evil elf?” she said in a voice that filled the hall.

  It was still under repairs from Greylheim’s attack, but was more or less completed. The elf had resumed his silence. He could not bear to tell the queen her son was dead.

  “Queen Zephyr,” Galis started. “We come with news of your son.”

  She raised her head high, preparing for the news that would be grave. Her eyes flitted down to Galis’ belt where the oracle hung. Galis was in the midst of his story when she rose and walked down the steps from her throne. She reached out her hand to the oracle.

  “Many years I have been looking for this,” she said in a trance. “How did you come by it?”

  Galis stopped talking and took a step back, much to the queen’s anger. “The earthling found it and entrusted it to me,” he said.

  “To us,” Folkvar corrected.

  The queen smirked and thrust her hand out to take it again. Galis stepped back again.

  “Do you know the power you hold on your belt?” the queen cried. “The oracle is the sage of all planes. He knows things we could never imagine. He has spoken to the Golden Son of the Celestial Plane. Think of the help it could be in finding the resting place of Umbra and destroying it forever!”

  Her eyes bulged with greed as she spoke.

  “Guards!” she called and a group came forward. She motioned to the little elf and the tall norcan, who they took a hold of. Two others grasped Galis’ arms and held him while the queen untied the oracle from his belt.

  “Greed,” the oracle purred. “I wonder who dreamed that up.”

  “Speak to me,” the queen cooed, holding the severed head lovingly in her arms as she turned away from her captives.

  “Your majesty, please,” Galis tried to reason.

  Then, like before, a large shadow announced the presence of the great midnight-colored beast. Everyone stopped and looked up.

  “What is this?” the queen cried. “What vile beast have you brought back from the depths?”

  “What we tried to tell you!” Folkvar screamed in his norcan roar. “A beast has killed your son and taken the star!”

  The midnight beast plowed through a few of the repaired pillars and charged at the throne. The queen screamed and cast herself to the floor to duck out of the way of its black claws. Propelled by its huge wings, the beast turned and scattered the guards holding the chained prisoners.

  Folkvar kicked his great horse hooves, straining the chains that held him. They didn’t break, but they did bend. He kicked again and again.

  The beast saw the little elf dash across the room looking for somewhere to hide. But too fast for his legs, the beast was upon him, sinking its poisonous teeth into the elf’s shoulder. When he cried out, Galis charged at the beast, leapt up, and kicked it in the face with his strong legs. With an angry roar, it turned to him now. It landed gracefully and began to prowl a circle around the barbarian. Its tail twitched in anticipation.

  “Beast!” Folkvar roared. He had freed himself from his chains and was now wielding it like a heavy whip. He lashed out and struck the thing across the back. Folkvar planted his hooves then charged at the thing, whipping it mercilessly with his new weapon.

  Galis ran to the elf who was bleeding and panting. The beast’s poisonous maw had already infected him. His white flesh was turning a dark color from veins spreading through his body. He touched the wound and the elf winced. His skin was cold and felt almost like ivory.

  “I can’t feel my arm,” he panted. “But it’s cold and it stings.” He grimaced as a wave of agony pulled at the wound.

  Behind them, Folkvar had beaten the beast away. It retreated once again to the shadows of the mountains, being burned by the sun the whole way back.

  The queen stepped back up to her throne. She placed the oracle on a circular table made of marble next to it. Standing up straight after smoothing her skirts, she spoke in a firm voice.

  “If you want to help us, go to the Celestial Plane,” she said. “The oracle says that is where the Golden Ruler lives. He is the Golden Son, the one who watches over our world. There you may perhaps contact the earthling’s world.”

  “We need help,” Galis said, ignoring her. “Our elf is wounded.”

  The queen’s face fell into a dark stare, one brow raised. “Do you want to aid the earthling or not?” she said simply.

  “But your son is dead.” Galis helped the wounded elf to his feet. “Do you not care?”

  “I care for Calimorden!” she shouted. Then she collapsed into her throne and began to shake with weeping. “Twice now I have lost my son.”

  The under elf glared at her. “Once by your own hand as well.”

  Her eyes darted up and were full of angry fire now. “Go now! Find the Celestial Plane and bring back the earthling before the corruption takes your friend.”

  Horror-struck, Galis examined his tiny comrade again.

  “I am sorry,” the oracle said from his new perch at the queen’s side. He did sound sorry. “The midnight beast is a carrier of the corruption. His poison furthers the conquest of the great Umbra. The elf has but days before he is consumed by it. He will wane and vanish like so many in our world. Unless…” The oracle trailed off, his eyes fixed on the elf.

  The wound had stopped spreading. It was still dark and looked painful, but the veins were constricted to about halfway down his arm and up his neck.

  “Your earthling is catching on to this naming thing,” the oracle said. None of them replied, not understanding. “Names are important. They have power. Can heal. All I’m saying is he will be ok for a bit. Clare’s got his back, whether she knows it or not.”

  Galis rose to his feet. “I will go then. But not for Calimorden or you,” he spat the address to the queen. “For my own people, for the tribe I have chosen, and for Clare.” He faced Folkvar. “Will you go with us?”

  He frowned in determination. “I will.”

  The queen released a load of tension through a sigh. Her hand absently reached for the oracle as if to prevent it from bouncing away.

  “Then go.”

  Chapter 12

  True Friends

  In history class, each student had to give a presentation on a famous person from old European history as Professor LeGrand called it, complete with visuals and handouts. When all the students had groaned at the impending doom of an upcoming weekend of work, he had been gracious and said they could pair off if it would help.

  Clare paired with Alice to do Queen Elizabeth I at Alice’s urging. At first, Clare was hesitant because she thought the queen—from the poster in the classroom—was old, scary looking, and boring.

  “Actually, Elizabeth led her own armies,” Professor LeGrand added to Alice’s losing argument. “She had a hard upbringing too. Something any growing woman should look up to was her great leade
rship.”

  Stella fought and begged Lance to trade her Max for Al, but Lance didn’t budge, much to Max’s satisfaction. Clare felt bad about this because it was partly her fault. Most of her friends now were abuzz with her journey to the other world and were constantly begging her for stories and explanations on how she got there. She was sorry she couldn’t tell them, but was ready for them to leave it be until she did return.

  “Take me with you,” Alice had cried. “You can bring people, don’t you think?”

  Clare didn’t know. She didn’t even know how to get there, let alone bring another person.

  “Can other people come here from there?” Lance had asked.

  “Maybe.” She shrugged “I don’t know. I haven’t seen anyone do it. But who knows?”

  Glad to leave some of her friends behind in English class, she settled in her chair and hunched behind her copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and rehearsed her lines. She had memorized everything for this week. Now she was to play Titania and to her great horror, Dwyerstoph was playing Bottom. She had always laughed at Bottom’s character and loved reading the scenes with him and poor bewitched Titania, but now she was shuddering at saying those lines to him.

  As the class progressed along with the wretched scene, Dwyerstoph kept trying to put his arms around her and whisper in her ear. Ms. Vander noticed Clare’s shift in enthusiasm and took that opportunity to chide her—and reap her revenge for the cumbersome idea of roles in the first place.

  “Clare, if you do not participate willingly in your own foolish idea, I will have to give you a write up for disruption of class,” the old woman snarled in her nasally voice.

  Biting her pride and much to Alice’s annoyance, Clare submitted to Dwyerstoph’s stupidity and played as well as she could off his horrible Bottom.

  “Never would a fairy queen fall in love with a man who’s an ass,” she hissed on their way home from school.

  “She was bewitched,” Lance reminded her kindly. “It wasn’t Titania’s fault. Oberon was jealous of her. He really did love his wife, I’m sure.”

  “Tch, only in the end,” Clare huffed. “He was just mean. Him and that Puck. Fei, on you Robin Goodfellow!” she screamed to the streets as they walked.

  “I was a great Puck, thanks,” Max said, beaming. “Even Mrs. Vander said I’d make a fine fairy.”

  They all chuckled quietly at this, remembering that Max was sensitive about gay jokes.

  “Oh, I forgot!” Lance called, throwing his long, muscled football player arms out. Everyone stopped. “Halloween is soon.” He smiled unexpectedly. “I love Halloween.”

  “Really?” Stella said, arching her drawn-on eyebrows. She put her hands on her hips. “I thought jocks only got drunk on Halloween and made out with cheerleaders.”

  Lance rolled his eyes and smirked. “Believe it or not, witch, I don’t even know any cheerleaders. What should we do? We should do a whole team of people. Like group costumes!”

  The talk of Halloween and costumes took up most of the time to the public library where they were dropping off Al and Jeff to do some research for their history projects. The others had family plans or work like Lance and Clare.

  “I’m thrilled you all are super psyched about this holiday,” Al said as he locked his bike up. “But really. We’re almost eighteen and candy and parties is really a sophomore kind of thing. If even that.” He smiled, proud at his adult assessment.

  Stella shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s an excuse for half the things I’d never do sober.”

  “No drinking either,” Lance put in, punching her shoulder. “Unhealthy.” He smiled when she once again raised her eyebrow at him.

  “We could go together maybe.” Stella took Max’s arm and pressed her face up against his. “What do you think?”

  “I may be ill that evening,” Max gasped, pushing away from her.

  “Or we could stay in, watch scary movies, and play games,” Clare suggested. “I have the tabletop game we started over the summer.”

  Lance leapt at this opportunity. “Yes, tabletop RPGs! I need to learn those.”

  Stella whined like a puppy. “I want parties!”

  Clare, Alice, Max, and Lance walked to the mall together. Max was going to hang out at the game store with Lance to help him with running tables and check out the new character pieces they had in. Alice stopped by Clare’s store with her just to see her off. Stella had gone ahead home to “deal with family things” she had said.

  Max inhaled as they entered. “Ah, consumerism,” he sighed. “That is our future, friends.”

  Alice rolled her eyes around the mall and its budding holiday garb. “Is it just a goth-thing to hate trends or do you really hate commercialism?”

  Max widened his eyes hysterically. “How can you not see the doom this country is headed for? Do you want a senseless white-color job that furthers the destruction of imagination and humans as we know them?”

  “Hey, Alice,” Flynn said when they walked in. Max and Lance veered off to the game store. “Didn’t know you knew our girl here.”

  “How do you know Alice?” Clare asked.

  “My dad goes to his evangelical biker party things,” Alice informed her now dumbfounded friend.

  “Okay,” Clare whispered under her breath. “So about everything I told you and Lance.” She pulled Alice to the back next to the Venetian masks to whisper. “Thank you for not freaking out and calling me crazy. I was so scared to tell you all. You can’t imagine.”

  Alice smiled, her white teeth showing brightly in her dark face. “Don’t worry, Clare. We’re your friends. Do you know what that means?”

  Clare faked looking thoughtful and stared intently up at the ceiling. “Um, that you will tell me I need to grow up and not dress up for Halloween?”

  Alice smacked her friend playfully on the arm. “That’s mocking Al. Not nice. Besides, don’t your parents say the same thing to you? About going to college and getting a real job?”

  They did. Every day.

  “I want to find out what a ‘real job’ is for me anyway,” she replied. “Why can’t my life be different?”

  “Customers, girls!” Flynn called from the front.

  In the game store, Max was coaching Lance on how to run a fun campaign that was strong in story and in action. Max said action was good, but story was better with action. He had been chanting circular definitions like this for days as though they were spells.

  After an hour of working through a beginner game with some younger children, Lance was to work behind the counter with customers and the registers. Here, in this store, they could talk openly about Clare’s secret and no one would even know what they were speaking of.

  “Do you think Clare can take others across with her?” Max asked, leaning over the tall cabinet with trading cards in them. He was short enough to have to heave himself up a little so his feet were dangling. “I’d love to have an adventure like that.”

  Lance nodded, but kept his face neutral. “But she said that woman died.” He fixed Max with his eyes. “Can you imagine seeing that in real life? And what if that dragon had, I don’t know, eaten her or something?”

  Max dropped back down to the floor with a thud from his thick boots. He bit his lip and realized Clare may have never come back. What if she had died? What if she decided that world was better than this one and never returned one day ? Could that happen?

  Reading his thoughts, Lance said cheerfully, “Hey, this is Clare we’re talking about. She’s crazy tough, right? She won’t let anything happen to her. And what if all the people there know she’s special and will protect her?”

  Max nodded. “Yeah, what if they know she’s special? What if that Gwen prince charms her away or that Galis dude steals her from us?”

  “Oh.” Lance tried not to smile. He waited a little while, but his little friend was not about to speak again. “Why don’t you just ask her out?” he finally said, not able to wait any longer.

  Shaking his
head and putting it down so his black and multicolored hair obscured his face, Max sighed. “If she turned down Mr. I-got-into-college-and-have-a-life-plan, then what chance do I have?”

  In his heart, Lance wondered the same thing. Al was everything any girl should want to attach herself to for comfort and security later in life. The guy was a breeze: all lined up for school and knew exactly where he was going and what he wanted. That wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, Lance was rather jealous of Al’s life plans. What wasn’t great was how Al was trying to make Clare fit into that mold when she was clearly not made for it. She was full of life and imagination. That was not what Al was looking for.

  “Well,” Lance offered his downtrodden friend. “You’re not a moron, so you do have that up on Al.”

  A little smile crept up on Max’s face through his melancholy.

  When Clare got home that night, someone was outside Stella’s house leaning against the garden wall. When she got closer, she saw it was Stella herself. She was wearing an oversized jacket against the cold and texting on her mobile. At first, she was upset Stella had broken the code, but on closer inspection, she saw her friend was crying. The best friend instinct kicked in and Clare dashed across the street to Stella’s side.

  “Stell, what’s up?” she asked, quickly putting her arm in the crook of her friend’s.

  Shutting her phone quickly and dropping it in the pocket of the jacket, she shook her head and wiped her tears away. “It’s nothing. Just family crap and people.” She sighed and shook her head. “Please don’t be angry, Clare. I know about the vow and everything, but sometimes I just have to talk to someone.”

  Clare shook her head too. “Forget the phone, I don’t care. What happened?”

  Stella didn’t answer and Clare knew she wouldn’t. Instead of pressing her friend for an explanation, she laid her head on Stella’s shoulder and waited. When Stella was ready to talk, she would. Clare knew they had always confided in each other for years and that was not about to change.