by James Fahy
Ashe’s smile froze a little, but she seemed to catch it on her face. “Our ways are not so simple,” she said. “Power is not mine merely to take. Not without a mate. I will explain later. But first, you have all travelled far. We must eat.” She reached out and took Karya’s hands in her own. “We are truly honoured to have one such as yourself here in the Elderhart,” she enthused. “I know you can stop this creature and bring balance back to the forest. It is almost like fate.”
“Princess, take care not to overexcite yourself,” Splinterstem cautioned in a low voice. “To talk of the Fates is to invite them down on our heads. Everyone knows this.” He reached out and patted her shoulder a little. Robin thought he saw her stiffen slightly, although maybe the dryad girl’s discomfort was just his imagination.
“Yes … yes of course,” she said, nodding, “Your counsel is sounds as always, steward. Perhaps it is better to talk of other things.”
“Your hall is very beautiful,” Robin said, more to have something to say than for any other reason. “The carving all around, it’s really detailed. You have a wonderful home here.”
“It is the Labyrinth,” Splinterstem said, taking a sip of his drink. Robin raised a silver goblet himself and did the same. Whatever it was, it was unfamiliar, but it tasted like honey and apples and sent a delicious comforting warmth through him right down to his toes.
“The labyrinth?” he asked, voice muffled as he spoke over the top of his glass.
“The Labyrinth has protected the heart of the forest for so long,” the princess said sadly. “Although, in the end, it did not stop the heart falling into darkness, into the beast.”
Karya slapped Woad’s hand away from her plate. He had already cleared his own.
“I’m sorry if we seem a little ignorant, we’re not really familiar with your world,” she shrugged apologetically, her shimmering shawl glinting in the dancing lights of the hall. “No one is, really. Your people are quite famous for being private. Everything the rest of the Netherworlde knows about you, about the forest as well, it’s all just second hand knowledge and guesswork.”
“Well, there was Hammerhand,” Robin pointed out. “He writes about this place in the Netherworlde Compendium, although even he doesn’t say too much about it. He came here once, he claims. Is that true?”
Ashe nodded, the flowers and leaves at her throat tinkling. “Yes! I recall him,” she said warmly. “The ambassador of the Fae.” A tiny frown appeared in her delicate brow. “He came here in a time of great tumult. When the world changed forever, and the Arcania fell to ruin, broken and lost to the winds. I remember he was allowed here, by Father.”
Splinterstem set down his goblet.
“I will tell you all of the Labyrinth,” he said, bowing his head. “And the heart of the forest, the pulsing heart of the elder trees themselves. If you do not understand our history, then you will see what has happened, and why this terrible beast must be stopped.”
“It must be stopped because it is a rampaging, mindless monster!” Ashe said to him firmly. She looked to the companions, her green eyes wide. “Many of our people have been killed. Hunting parties running afoul of the drake. Outer settlements scorched and withered. You have seen for yourself the destruction it brings. Death and grey decay to the very forest it touches. The Elderhart, my father's kingdom, is now riddled with just such places.” She looked thoughtfully down at her hands. “And without the king to guide us…”
“It’s not just your people, or your forest, in danger,” Karya explained. “This thing has been roaming beyond the borders of the Elderhart. From what we’ve heard, it’s growing more powerful all the time. More bold. It has destroyed Panthea villages, withered crops, ruined the autumn harvests. The surface town of the redcaps even, Spitrot, has been completely decimated. Many of their people were killed. Those who followed it back into the forest were also hunted and ended by this thing.”
She looked past Ashe to the steward. “Anything you can tell us will be helpful. If we are to find and stop this thing. The more we understand, the better.”
Splinterstem looked from the princess to Karya. “Pre-warned is pre-armed. Very well,” he began.
“The dryads have always lived in the Elderhart, even since the Panthea first came to the Netherworlde. This has been ever our realm. We protect the great forest, and it protects us. We have a balance with nature. We are the balance of nature.” He shook his great head solemnly.
“Things changed when the war came. Eris declared open war on the Fae. Panthea were split, fighting amongst themselves even. War raged all over the Netherworlde. Even here, in the deep depths of the forest, isolated from the rest of the land, we were not safe from it either. Eris’ war tore our very people in two.”
Robin knew that this had happened elsewhere too. The Nereids had joined Eris’ cause, rebelling against their Undine masters. Had something similar happened here?
“Did some of your people? The dryads, I mean …” he asked. “Did some of them supported Eris? Went to fight for her cause, against the Fae?”
Splinterstem grunted unhappily. “They did. Not many of them, at first, but enough. Eris has a way of doubling things, whether it is dissent, unhappiness, mistrust or simply bodies. The dryads who answered her call to arms, who left the forest, abandoning our ways and swearing allegiance to Dis. They were…changed by her.”
“Changed how?” Karya asked.
“Dark ways and means,” Splinterstem replied grimly, setting down his plate. “Eris tampers with the fabric of order, the natural way of things. Chaos is in her very bloodstream. The dryads she toyed with, deep in the pits of Dis, well, when they returned to the forest, they had become the swarm.”
Robin knew this name. Hawthorn had told him about them.
“The swarm?” he asked. “They’re the ones who run the Hive, aren’t they? I didn’t know they were dryads like you.”
“They are nothing like us!” the princess said, sounding aghast, a pale green hand fluttering to her chest, clad in white flowers. It was odd, how she managed to appear delicate and willowy, when she was in fact a good seven feet tall. “They are twisted perversions of dryads, tainted by Eris, dark and distorted reflections of everything we are.” Her mouth downturned in distaste. “The swarm are slaves to her will. She used them to great effect in the war, and afterwards, once Eris had won … Well, they made excellent guards for the prison she built.”
The steward nodded in agreement. “Eris never throws away anything useful,” he rumbled. “She built the Hive, far south of here, her great gaol, that dark pyramid. The swarm run the place, and all the forest around it. Their dark presence has corrupted the very trees in those parts. Dead woods, tangled thorns. It is a vile place. Avoid the dark places in the Elderhart, children. They all, every one of them lead to the swarm, and to Eris’ prisoners.”
“We of Rowandeepling have been at war with the swarm ever since,” the princess said. “They fight us for land, and slowly we lose the forest to them, piece by piece. They will not stop, until they have what they want, what Eris wants.”
“Total dominion of the Netherworlde?” Woad guessed. “She’s a bugger for that. The Dark Empress doesn’t like to share.”
“Something more specific than that, little blue one,” the steward said. “Eris desires the heart of the elder trees. She will never call the horde of the swarm off until she possesses it.”
“Tell us about this heart,” Karya said, drawing her chair in closer to the table with interest.
“It was the culmination of the war,” Splinterstem told them, leaning back in his chair, his large hands clasped over his stomach. “The world was in confusion. The Fae King and Queen had gone, the Arcania was shattered, and then in the midst of all this upheaval, a man …” He waved a hand at them. “This outlander whom you call Hammerhand. He comes to the forest, claiming to be on a mission from the regents themselves. One last task given before they disappeared.”
“What task?” Robin wan
ted to know, his curiosity peaked.
“Hammerhand brought an object of great, great power to my father,” Ashe explained, a little breathlessly. “Tremendous power. It needed to be hidden, he told the king. Deep and safe where none would ever find it, this force of raw magic. My father accepted this burden. He commissioned the building of a great labyrinth. It lies far below us now, beneath the very roots of the elder trees themselves, and it extends for many miles beneath the forest.” She looked respectfully at the steward. “Splinterstem himself was its architect. A work of genius. He is … was … very close to my father.” Her glittering eyes flicked back to them. “At the centre, my father placed this object, this powerful treasure of the Fae, and named it the heart of the forest.”
“It brought great protection to our people,” the steward said, nodding. “It fed the elder trees. They flourished. Made Rowandeepling strong. We dryads bloomed with it, and our strength has been greater than any of Eris' swarm. But the heart of the forest must be protected. The king and I, we set a guardian within the Labyrinth, one who would surely kill any who dared enter. A fearsome thing. Half man, half beast.”
This sounded oddly familiar to Robin.
“What kind of guardian?” Woad asked with interest.
“Is it … half-person, half-bull?” Robin ventured with a frown.
Everyone at the table looked at him curiously. Splinterstem’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“How would you know that, strange Fae?” he wanted to know. Robin’s friends and the princess also peered at him closely. He felt his ears burn a little with the attention.
“Educated guess, I suppose,” he said awkwardly. “It’s just … well, a labyrinth? A dangerous guardian in the centre? We have a similar myth back in the human world, where I was raised. It’s called a minotaur.”
The princess nodded, clearly impressed. “Yes, yes, a minotaur!” she confirmed. “Set in place to guard the heart, the relic of the Fae.” Her face became concerned. “It is a very dangerous animal. None have ever dared enter. Not since the time when the Labyrinth was first built. It is a vile and bestial horror, but it has kept the heart safe all this time.” She glanced away, her breath hitching.
Robin considered this. The Netherworlde seemed full of myths and legends, the Panthea in particular echoing old mythology. Mythology that didn’t traditionally have any of its roots in Britain, or British folklore at all. It was very curious. The Fae, he could understand. Redcaps and banshee and ghosts, these were all things which to him seemed at home in the mists of ‘ye olde Britain’. But all things Panthea…centaur, kraken, satyrs and dryads, nymphs and fauns, and now a minotaur? Things in the Netherworlde seemed so … mixed up.
Splinterstem leaned in solicitously. “Perhaps that is enough history for now. This is not an easy topic for our people.” He waved an attendant over to pour more drinks. “Now please, eat … drink … be merry.” He poured the princess' goblet himself and placed it straight into her hand, curling her fingers around the bowl gently. He seemed to treat her like a delicate flower. Despite her regal station, she seemed resigned enough to comply with his ministrations, and relieved to escape dark talk and memories. After the feast, she promised, Splinterstem would tell them what he knew of the beast.
*
Robin studied the dryads as they ate. They seemed a peaceable people. Subdued perhaps, but with some terrible creature destroying their forest, they could hardly be blamed for that. He was unsure what to make of the princess too. She seemed polite enough, but distant and a little sad. No doubt, she was mourning the loss of her father. He didn’t think Karya was particularly impressed with her. His friend was one of the strongest people he knew, and the princess' rather meek and ladylike bearing probably irked her sensibilities.
And as for Splinterstem, during their trek through the forest, he had been stoic and watchful, guarding them at night, leading them here on safe paths. Now they were here, Robin couldn’t help but notice how attentive he was to the princess. Constantly refilling her cup, ensuring she was entertained. He spent the remainder of the evening practically doting on her, dedicated to her comfort and peace. His large green eyes attentive and respectful.
When the feasting was done, the princess, looking rather wan, declared that she was tired and needed some air. Excusing herself politely, she retreated to a balcony. As the hubbub in the great hall grew quieter, plates cleared away, and the dryads all around fell to talking amongst themselves in groups, Robin and the others gathered around Splinterstem.
“This ‘heart of the forest’,” Karya said in a businesslike tone, without preamble. “We all agree that what we’re talking about here is clearly a Shard of the Arcania here, right? The Earth Shard.”
Woad nodded enthusiastically. “I’d bet my tail on it. The Shards were hidden everywhere, right? One given to the Air priests and popped in a magic statue, one buried with Tritea the Undine at the bottom of a lake. Sneaky Fae squirrelled them all away like nuts for the winter.”
“Well, I was thinking this too,” Robin said in agreement. “Hammerhand was a Fae. He was a great traveller. I’ve read every inch of his Compendium. He was a part of the Fae high-society too. Not Sidhe-Nobilitas, but definitely a trusted member of court. It makes sense that Oberon and Titania would trust him to know a secret and safe place to hide a Shard, right?”
“We were honoured to be given such a treasure,” Splinterstem told them. “Although in the end, it did not stop the swarm from forming. It has not kept our borders safe from them or from Eris.”
“What I want to know is this,” Karya probed. “The Shard, the heart, whatever you want to call it … If it was deep in this impassable Labyrinth, and guarded by the vicious scary minotaur for all these years, what happened? How on earth is it suddenly out in the world, embedded in a great monster? Surely someone would have had to go in to the maze? And fetch it out?”
Splinterstem looked very doubtful. “None have entered the Labyrinth,” he said. “Not since it was constructed. And even if they did, they would never find the centre. I should know. I designed it. We respect the minotaur beneath the woods. The guardian of the great power. No dryad is foolish enough to attempt to pass it.” He looked troubled.
“There was only ever one incident, a dryad who was foolish enough to enter, and this was long ago, when the place was very first commissioned by the king.” He looked grim. “It was myself who found his body, by the doors to the maze. The poor wretch. He was … almost unrecognisable.” He shook his head in distaste at the memory. “I buried him myself, his remains at least, before I even brought news back to the city. None should have had to see him in the state I found him, gored by the minotaur.”
“Who was he?” Robin asked gently.
“He was a good friend of mine,” Splinterstem told them. “He was also someone close to our fair princess. She has never quite recovered from the loss. It weakens her, darkens her heart even now, so many years later.”
“Okay, so that rules out anyone going in there with a red rag and dodging around gorey Mr McBullface,” Woad said, tactlessly. “I suppose after that, people would be extremely unlikely to try their luck, not being fauns after all.”
Karya cleared her throat loudly, interrupting the faun. "But tell us about when this monster first appeared. The scourge with the Shard. Was the king its first victim?”
The steward nodded. “He was. And it is my fault,” he said, looking down at his hands with a frown. “I was with him, you see, when the thing attacked. I should have guarded him, protected him. That is my job after all. My calling. The king has ever been good to me. I grew up alongside the princess, treated almost as one of his own.” His green eyes narrowed. “But it happened so fast. And it was so strong. I was powerless to stop it.” He looked up to them, his face grave. “I failed the king. I let him be taken by this beast, leaving our people leaderless and the princess distressed. Which is why I swore that I would find a champion strong enough to stop it. To protect Rowandeepling. To c
laim back the heart of the forest for us.” He looked to Karya. “Then in my searchings, I came the redcaps at the edge of the forest. The beast had just attacked their town, this Spitrot you tell us of. I heard them speak of a great power at Erlking, one which owed them a favour.” Splinterstem straightened in his chair proudly. “I can travel much faster than lowly redcaps do. So I came, and I spied for myself, to see what lay at Erlking that might assist us.”
Robin realised something suddenly. “It was you then,” he said. “We’ve been seeing odd things for months at Erlking. Woad said he saw a face at the window of my bedroom one night, made from leaves, and Jackalope swore he’d seen blossom blowing through the grounds, a tornado shaped like a walking man.”
The dryad nodded. “Forgive my secrecy,” he said. “I wanted to see for myself first-hand what power lay at Erlking.” He looked to Karya, his eyes wide. “And then when I saw you, I knew our prayers were answered. I hastened back here to tell the princess, that I had found our champion.”
He glowered slightly. “Little did I know that by the time I returned, the redcaps themselves would have already pressed you into their service, and that you and your companions were scattered through the grasslands. I was lucky to find you when I did, on the borders of the forest, by the rancid bodies of those two things.” He nodded to himself. “It was the will of the Fates. The forest brought you to us, great one.”
Karya looked incredibly uncomfortable. “Here’s the thing,” she said haltingly. “Everyone here has been very nice, but to be honest, I really don’t know who you think I am.” She pointed to Robin. “He’s the Scion. That one. He’s the one the redcaps came to for help. I’m just…” She shrugged. “Well, it’s all rather complicated, but I suppose you could say I’m just a runaway. I have some skill with the Tower of Earth, certainly, but nothing like dryad level skills. If anyone is best placed to recover a Shard of the Arcania, it’s Robin. The Shards call to him.”
The dryad peered at her curiously. “There can be no mistake …” he said seriously. “It is plain for any to see who you are, surely? If you are joking at my expense, then please, forgive my ignorance, but I am outside of the joke.”
