Campbell Wood

by Al Sarrantonio

  There was a curving length of branch a few feet from him. Suddenly it lashed out like a whip, coiling viciously around Mark's waist and squeezing him like a python. He gave a startled cry, and reached out both hands to the spot where it was attached to a wildly bending tree. With all of his might he snapped it off. It went dead for a moment, long enough for him to pull it from his body, but as he ran on he saw that it quickly burst into life again, following him like a real snake for a few yards before darting off up into the trees to batter against the trunk.

  As in a fever dream, the path before Mark was appearing and then disappearing. First it was there, with all of the insanity going on to either side of it; then the forest closed down around it, throwing its green and brown arms out to tangle and batter him, to creep and crawl and then pull back again. Mark tried to time these pulses but soon discovered that there was no rhythm to them. He had to stumble through, constantly throwing off whipping leaves and grasping tree limbs.

  The wild sounds of wood against wood became louder behind him, rising to an ear-shattering level. It sounded as if the forest was tearing itself to pieces, battering itself into the ground.

  Mark found himself in a high clearing. With a gasp of relief, he thought for a moment that he was safe; but then he saw that the woods were slowly closing in on all sides and that this was an isolated, but doomed, area.

  The clearing did, though, afford him a momentary glimpse of the town of Campbell Wood in the near distance. What Mark saw frightened him even more than what was around him. The town looked as though it was in the middle of an earthquake, even though the earth was as steady as rock beneath it. Wooden houses were exploding, their shingles and everything else within shattering and flying into the air. A cloud of sawdust was forming over the town, an eerie pollution-like fog. From this distance it looked as though the trees themselves, come alive, were battering the town to dust. Mark thought he saw a few figures running, which made him only more resolute to get to Ellen and Seth. And to Kaymie. He saw her school, only a half mile to his left. As the forest crept toward him, he plunged into it, keeping to a vague path toward the school.

  He went on for some time. The earth now was trembling beneath his feet, and he thought that maybe an earthquake was responsible for all this after all. But he quickly dismissed the thought. This was no earthquake, but rather the sound of massive trees being pulled up and thrown to the ground all around him. The pathway closed, opened, closed, and as it opened again Mark dove through the hole, falling to the ground.

  He pushed himself to his feet. He was, he saw, in a tunnel whose walls were built of tree boughs and leaves. He turned and saw Kaymie, dressed in a strange white robe with a gold crown on her head. The crown seemed almost to glow with golden light, and its tiny diamonds were like fireflies around her head.

  Kaymie was staring beyond him, as though she was in a trance. Mark turned to see another figure, in a cowl, standing not ten feet from him.

  "My God," he said.

  The eyes were cold and hard and stared right through him. Those eyes wanted him dead. The figure was small, but the power it commanded nearly drove him to his knees. He knew that all around him, every bit of wood and branch and tree was, at this moment, in command of this figure. The very earth moved and heaved with the power of the roots thrusting beneath it.

  "Fay," he said.

  All resemblance to the warm, alluring person he had known was blotted out. This Fay had snake's venom running through her. She was a statue devoid of feeling, a block of ice.

  She laughed. The laugh was a chilling, evil sound, a sound as old as death itself.

  "You don't believe it?" she said to Mark. She gave him a frigid smile. "You fool."

  Mark turned to Kaymie, who was staring at the figure before her. Mark could almost feel the electricity between them, could see Kaymie gauging the strength that lay before her.

  He turned back to Fay.

  "Why?" he said helplessly.

  "You tiny, stupid man," Fay spat. She had grown from the girl he had first seen in the library to a monster. He couldn't believe this was the same woman.

  "You don't know who I am?" she asked him contemptuously. She laughed again. "You would never have guessed. In fifty years you wouldn't have guessed. You're as stupid as your father was." She looked past him at Kaymie, and her eyes burned with a red, hellish fire.

  "I'm going to tell you a story about a Queen," she continued, in a voice dripping with venom. "A Queen who betrayed her people. Many years ago a young idiot named Taemon Gaye brought to this new town her sacred charge, the Queen of all the Faerie. In the new language, the Queen was called Una Duncan. When she grew old enough to assume power, she seemed infected by this new land where her people lived, and liberalized the way of the Faerie. Some were alarmed by this. Taemon Gaye tried to dissuade the Queen, but after awhile she gave in and assented to the changes. At the appropriate time the Queen took a husband, Robert Campbell, and she took his name. There began the real problems. For a Queen to take the name of a man was blasphemous in itself, but it led to other things. By charter the name of Duncan Wood was changed to Campbell Wood. The people, by and large, did not seem to mind this blasphemy. The old ways were passing, and, finally, what centuries of invaders and alien hordes could not do in the Old World, one generation in the new one was accomplishing. The Faerie ways were being mixed with the filth of modern life.

  "Una Campbell prospered, and her husband prospered. She had a son, and she named him Mark. There was no great rejoicing at this, since a daughter was needed, but the people once again were content with their Queen's happiness. And she seemed unnaturally happy with her son.

  "And then something happened that made, finally, some of the older people begin to mutter. It was said that Robert Campbell had decided that his wife was to have no more children. He was happy with the way things were."

  She paused, and her voice grew shriller. "Una Campbell agreed with him; she stood by her husband's petty wants and it seemed that there the matter would end. This woman, this Queen, would place the entire surviving line of Faerie in jeopardy for a man's wishes.

  "But this time something was done. The power of a Queen is great, but on the night of the April full moon each year her powers fail her. On one such April moon night, with the help of other strong, true members of the clan, a man named Ian MacGregor took the Queen for his own and planted his seed in her.

  "And the seed grew.

  "Una Campbell, Queen of all Faerie, was a fool in the end. She sought to hide this supposed shame from her weak husband. When she could hide the swelling of her belly no longer, he denounced her and fled, taking his young son with him. Such a fool was this Queen that she did not command him to stay.

  "The child, a girl, was born."

  "Oh sweet Jesus," Mark said.

  "And what did Una Campbell, this great Queen, do?" Fay shouted. "She spurned the girl, abandoning her to the woods and commanding that no one help her. Ian MacGregor she murdered in those same woods, squeezing his poor body into a tree until he burst from within.

  "But the child thrived. There were others, those who had supported Ian MacGregor, who cared for the baby in the woods. She grew strong, while Una Campbell became a dried-up old woman, living the rest of her life mourning the foolish life she had lost and rejecting the one chance she had of restoring the Faerie to greatness. As Una Campbell shriveled, the young girl bloomed, learning the ways of the Faerie and preparing well for the day that would come when the real Queen would take her people back to what they had once been.

  "The day came. Una Campbell, once Queen and now feeble of mind and body, battled with the one true Queen of the Faerie—the fruit of her own withered loins.

  "What Una Campbell had done to Ian MacGregor, so did the new Queen do to her. And then she sought to make the Faerie whole again.

  "But then a surprise came. That other product of Una Campbell's loins appeared as if by devil magic, leaving one final battle to be waged—for as long
as the daughter of Mark Campbell is alive there will be a question in the minds of some. And there is also the matter of the crown, the one thing Una Campbell kept hidden to herself and which only the true Queen might wear."

  She laughed, a deep, harsh sound. "After this battle, mine will be the one true line for all time." She turned to Mark, a twisted smile on her face. "Even my succession has been provided for."

  "Oh dear God," Mark said.

  "Don't speak to your sister like that," Fay said, and Mark began to shiver at the look in her eyes. "Not when she carries your child."

  "No!" Mark threw his hands to his ears. "This can't be real!"

  Fay laughed again.

  Suddenly she stopped laughing, and held her hands out before her. "Kay-lock," she chanted.

  The trees around them came to life with new vigor. The tunnel pushed back, groaning, forming a kind of arena in which the three of them stood.

  "There is a new age beginning for us," Fay said, loudly. "Those stupid people outside Campbell Wood will know the power of the Faerie again. I could never understand why we went into hiding when those others began to overtake the land. They were larger, and stronger in many ways, but I never understood why we didn't fight them, drive them out, kill them all in the beginning. These thousand years we've acted like hunted animals, becoming part of their legends and superstitions and myths, instead of taking our rightful place in the world. Our forebears, the first to run to this new world, were treated no better here than in the old one. They had a dream, but they quickly saw it dashed in this country. The first of us to come here were called witches and hunted down. Do you know how many of us were murdered in the seventeenth century for practicing our religion?"

  She looked down at Mark. "You're little more than a dog. You didn't know any of this, did you? I can see now why nothing was ever passed down through men. The whole race of you are nothing but bulls with seed, to be used like instruments." She looked at Kaymie, and a final glow of warmth crept across her face. "I say this mostly for your benefit, because I respect you as one of our own. I think you should know where your powers come from. You are not of this foul race of human beings who have nearly destroyed the land we worshipped for nearly a million years. The land was always ours, we respected it and it gave back to us. We took our power from it as it took its nourishment from us. Of course there can be only one Queen. It is a pity that you stand in my way for I think you would have done well as one of us. We could have used your power."

  As Fay talked, Kaymie felt things happening inside her. Ancient voices came to life; there was an even greater flowering of power than she had felt before. Here was the future of her race, of all of them, before her. It would be fought for on this spot. She knew that if she did not fight and defeat this evil woman, the fate of the Faerie would be sealed. There would be battle with the rest of humanity and the Faerie would be wiped out once and for all. Before, they had been forced into hiding; this time they would be destroyed.

  Kaymie was very frightened, but she fought back her terror and spoke. There seemed to be others with her, helping her speak.

  "You are the fool," she said to Fay. "You want only the power. Can't you see the destruction behind it? You've been able to subjugate one small town. What then? You'll be crushed if you try to go further. Don't you see the pain you've already caused your own people? You can't command the Earth to do your every bidding. Even the Earth will turn against you after awhile. You want only to be Queen; that insane quest has held you all this time. Destroy me, and you will become Queen. But it's an empty dream. There can't be any new Faerie empire. The best we can hope for is to keep our race and prolong it, to build it up quietly and peacefully within this other race. Like my grandmother did. A war would end everything."

  Fay screamed, "It will happen!"

  "It will drag you and your few followers, or slaves, down with it."

  Sharply, Kaymie threw out her hands to the side, and the clearing around them pushed out to nearly double its size.

  Fay fell back with the power of the assault. But she quickly regained her position.

  "Die now," she said.

  Mark looked on in helpless terror as the battle began.

  With a roar from above, a huge tree, loosed from the tangle, fell toward Kaymie. She looked up at it, and it fell harmlessly aside. Another followed, and then another; in quick order she diverted these also. The last one she directed toward Fay, who, with a movement of her hand, caused it to explode into a shower of fragments.

  The forest whirled around them. They threw bolt after bolt at one another; as Kaymie's attention was taken with this assault, Fay moved the wall of wood closer about them again. Hand-like boughs began to reach out at them. Kaymie moved closer to her father to better protect him. He was helpless in the midst of this hell, and it became obvious that Fay was trying to keep Kaymie's attention occupied with attacks from three sides and then to harm Mark.

  The ground beneath them rumbled, and a huge oak burst up with a roar, twisting and creaking between Fay and Kaymie. Fay howled in triumph. The tree was eight feet in diameter, with a thousand whipping, grabbing branches that forced Kaymie and Mark back to the edge of the clearing, where they were attacked by things jumping out of the shadows behind them. Fay was lost to view behind the massive tree until she appeared within its branches. A rain of deadly weapons fell from above.

  Kaymie thought she would go mad. She knew there was great power in her, but this assault was draining her. There was just too much coming at her.

  They were being assailed from all sides now. Logs flew by and around them. A dust cloud was whirling along the ground.

  Kaymie was nearly screaming with pain. Her head felt like a burning cauldron. A tree shot at her, then another, and there was a cry from beside her.

  She turned to see her father lifted from the ground and pulled away from her by a net of boughs from a tall tree behind.

  She turned all her attention to him. He was lashed at the very top of the tree and was gasping for breath. His legs kicked about violently as he tried in vain to remove the limbs wrapped tightly around his neck.

  Kaymie cried out, and with a movement of her hands she cleared the whole area around him. The tree branches instantly loosened, and she had him lowered gently to the ground.

  He was nearly unconscious. There was blood on his face and hands. His fingers had been rubbed raw in his struggle against the tree.

  Kaymie's attention was once again taken up with the fight. She was gaining the upper hand, throwing back up at the oak all the various projectiles hurled down at her. Once again she widened the arena. A splash of sunlight broke through the trees overhead. Bare spots of earth began to show through the twining boughs as they were moved back. The huge oak trembled, bits of bark and leaves flying away.

  A high keening sound came from Fay as she fought to regain command of the wood. The battle had shifted to Kaymie and, painfully, stick by stick, the forest was being restored to its natural form.

  Fay leaped to the ground. She screamed, and her voice was terrifying in its depth of rage and hate. "You will not win this battle! You little whore! You're a whore to all of them, the stinking Christ-worshippers and all the rest who drove us down into the Earth." She threw back her head and gave a high wild keening scream that paralyzed Kaymie for a moment. She fought desperately against the feeling and then broke through it. A wall of wood flew at her, past her. She was too late. She could not fight it all back.

  She turned just as her father screamed. He was pinned through his chest and one leg with long spikes of wood. Breathing hoarsely, he looked up at her with a pleading look in his eyes.

  "Kaymie," he gasped. He fell back, tears welling up in his eyes. "She's wrong, Kaymie. My mother was right. You . . . have to stop her."

  Kaymie made a movement and the spikes pulled gently away. But it was too late. He was losing too much blood. His voice became a whisper.

  "Kaymie," he said, "stop . . ."

  He fell
back.

  Kaymie screamed with rage. Her mind turned white hot. She didn't know what she was doing, but relied on her new-found instincts.

  The woods began to howl. The very earth was being churned up. The white-hot coal in Kaymie's mind began to cool. She felt her power weakening.

  I can't let this happen, she thought.

  Suddenly her power was gone.

  Fay was before her, looking down into her eyes. Kaymie did not remember falling, but she was on the ground, her back pressed painfully into a sharp rock.

  Fay's lips pulled back tightly over her sharp white teeth. Behind her was framed only darkness and the swirl of wood, dust, ash, leaves, and vines.

  "This will end it for you," Fay said. "And for all of them. A new age dawns today. Look into my eyes and see what it will be."

  There was only red hate in her eyes.

  Kaymie gasped, "No."

  "Yes," Fay said, spitting on the girl beneath her. "This is how it will start. There is only hate left for the Faerie to feed on. There isn't room for the weak like you; there isn't room for any man save those who will be the pigs in my pen. They will jump when I call; caper on their legs and bend to rut when I tell them to. The power of the Faerie and the horned god will return, little one." She put her hand to Kaymie's neck, and Kaymie found that she couldn't resist. "And there is much to make up for the hundreds of years the Faerie have been in the dust." She pressed down on Kaymie's neck, and her grip tightened as she spoke through clenched teeth.

  "You will die here. 1 want you to die with the knowledge that all you would have done will never be. All you have loved will die; those not already dead will die slowly by my hand, or perhaps by the hand of those few slaves I keep to do my bidding. Think of your little brother; think of him hung from a branch, his kicking feet inches from the ground." Her eyes were wild, and she pressed down harder on Kaymie's throat. The tree bits were swirling behind Fay's head, dancing devilishly around it. Kaymie saw vaguely that with her free hand she was reaching for the crown on Kaymie's head.